#we deserve the story from the cover!!!! not those straight bullshit!!

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) - A Maze Runner Story

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 12,051 Warnings: death, bloody wounds, fighting, mental and physical torture, guns, suicidal thoughts and actions Spoilers: no spoilers because the books and films came out ages ago

After helping Newt recover from his ankle injury, Y/N and Newt formed an unbreakable bond that always had them looking out for each other. When they escaped the Maze, then navigated the Scorch, they always had each other’s back. It isn’t until Y/N is captured alongside Minho by WCKD and Newt contracts the Flare that he realises how he truly feels about Y/N.

Problem is, will he rescue her in time to tell her?

Note: I'm back in my dystopian future era thanks to the new Hunger Games film so of course I had to write for my original YA crush. This piece is based on the movie series mainly. Don't get mad at me, I love the books more, but I can appreciate the storylines that came out of the path they took with the films. And if there is one thing the TMR fandom can agree on, it is that the film cast was the best cast ever for the series. So enjoy - not sorry that it's horrendously long, Newt deserves it xx

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

Y/N recognised it was Minho was calling for help. Clint and Jeff ran out of the med hut to see what all the commotion was. It wasn’t long before they were hurrying back inside, carrying Newt of all people between them, Minho and Alby in tow.

‘Clear the table,’ Clint ordered, and Y/N quickly followed through, practically throwing off containers, bowls and medical instruments to get Newt on there as quick as possible. Once Newt was up, Y/N finally noticed the unnatural twist in his ankle and it almost sent Frypan’s sloppy sweet potato soup right back up. 

She was still pretty new to her job as a Medjack, being the greenie and all. She was the only girl in the Glade of the current twelve residents, so she was intimidated at first as to what role she could play in the place. Medjack seemed the most suitable, and she seemed to have a knack for it, having stitched up some eyebrows and cleaned up knee scrapes with ease and precision. 

But even though she’d seen blood, dealt with displaced bones and joints, she still got queasy doing her job. It didn’t help that Newt was hissing through clenched teeth from the intense pain, an occasional sob passing through.

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Minho said. ‘We split up for only five minutes. I thought we could cover more ground that way. And we’ve run that part of the Maze like a hundred times already. I thought we’d be fine…’

Clint held Newt down as Jeff and Y/N took a look at Newt’s ankle. Jeff only pressed gently with his fingers around the bone, but Newt’s responding howls confirmed the severity of the injury.

‘The bone is completely shattered,’ Jeff said grimly. ‘We’re going to need to reset his foot first though. Y/N?’

‘On it.’ She rushed to a shelf that held bandages, then to a cupboard with flat boards about shin length. She grabbed two of those before heading back to the table.

‘You’re going to have to hold him down,’ Y/N directed at Alby and Minho, gesturing to follow Clint’s efforts. Then she turned to Newt, whose face was slicked with tears and sweat as he continued to writhe in pain. ‘Newt. Newt, can you open your eyes for me? I need you to focus on me.’

To his credit, Newt opened his eyes and he didn’t look away from her. 

‘Good. Good, Newt,’ she said. ‘Now, we have to realign your foot. It’s going to hurt a lot. We’ll go on three, okay?’

In the short time Y/N had known Newt – which arguably was no time at all, as he ran every day and she was in the Medjack hut all day. They didn’t interact unless he or another runner got hurt, or at dinner if only to say hello. Even so, she had come to know he liked it plain and straight, no bullshit. So, despite his pain, he took two deep, calming breaths and gave her a nod to say he was ready for what they had to do.

Y/N nodded back, then looked to the others, who had their hands braced on all Newt’s limbs. ‘Ready?’ she asked, to which they nodded in reply. Y/N gently held Newt’s ankle, eliciting a quiet whimper from the boy. ‘Okay, on three. One, two…’ She cut herself off as she slammed her hands either side the ankle bone, causing a loud cracking sound as the ankle snapped back into place. 

Newt’s wail of pain must’ve been heard from across the whole Glade it was so loud. He writhed and pulled to sit up, but the boys held him down as Y/N and Jeff bandaged the two splints either side of Newt’s ankle. Jeff then dabbed a small dose of chloroform in a cloth and pressed it to Newt’s nose. Soon enough, the boy was unconscious, finally pain-free.

‘You guys go have dinner,’ Y/N said to Clint and Jeff a little while later as they were cleaning up the hut. Alby and Minho had left soon after Newt fell asleep, but it was almost dinner time now. ‘I’ll stay with Newt tonight.’

‘You sure?’ Clint asked. ‘We can do shifts if you’d prefer.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I insist. You guys rest up. I can do this. Consider this my final test to becoming a fully-fledged Medjack.’

Jeff chuckled. ‘You have much more to learn, Greenie, but suit yourself.’

‘We’ll bring you back some food, Y/N,’ Clint said as he and Jeff left the hut, leaving Y/N to idly clean up.

Newt woke up from a dull throbbing in his ankle, which turned into a harsh pain, causing him to sit up in alarm. 

‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ a voice gently said as equally gentle hands pushed him back down.

‘My ankle,’ he said, voice hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts…’

The face of the voice finally came into view: it was the Greenie. Y/N offered him a small smile as he finally recognised her. In one hand, she held a needle with clear serum. Her other she offered to his leg. ‘May I? It’ll help, I promise.’

He hesitated for a moment, but the intense pain in his ankle broke his composure as he eagerly nodded. The painkiller worked immediately, and Newt sighed with relief as the throbbing eased significantly.

’There,’ Y/N said, wiping the needle. ’That should help for a bit. Sadly, we don’t have much left for me to give you more than once a day, but I’m hoping you won’t need it beyond the end of the month.’

Confusion clouded Newt’s mind as he tried to process her words. ‘What… What happened?’ But he answered his own question as images of the Maze flashed through his mind, and he remembered it all. How he bid farewell to Minho. How he climbed as high as he could along the Maze walls. How easy it was to let go. 

Then the pain fully encompassed him, and then it was just a blur. How Minho found him. How Clint and Jeff laid him on the table he realised he was still on. How angry and embarrassed he felt having his friends see him broken and miserable. 

Newt managed to pull himself into a sitting position, propping a pillow behind him to cushion the hut wall. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked glumly, eyes unable to lift from his injury.

He couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. He was too tired, and, frankly, saw no point in keeping up appearances anymore. 

To her credit, Y/N seemed to pick up on his mood, saying, ‘It will heal to a point you’ll be able to walk again. But it won’t ever heal properly.’

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

’So I can’t be a Runner anymore?’ Y/N didn’t reply, finally drawing Newt’s attention away from the source of his pain and to her. 

Newt had only interacted with Y/N on a few occasions. Mainly at mealtimes or the odd occasion he passed her by on the way back from a run, only talking as much as greeting and farewelling one another. As the only girl so far, of course he found her intriguing, but he never had time nor a reason to get to know her.

And while he’d come to think of her as the quiet and gentle Medjack in comparison to Clint and Jeff, he didn’t see an ounce of pity on her face as she looked at him. Only quiet contemplation, as if there could be any other answer but no to his question.

‘I guess that’s up to you and Alby,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, I know what I should say is no. I’m sure Clint and Jeff will say no. But it’ll more so come down to if you want to go back in or not.’ Her eyes flickered to his ankle, sadness glazing her eyes briefly before returning to him. ‘But I think I can take a guess as to what your answer will be.’

Newt’s gut twisted with guilt and shame that she’d figured it out, and his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘So, you going to tell everyone?’ he asked, words thick  with hopelessness. ‘I mean, that’s your job, right? Diagnose me, then tell Alby, then the whole glade how pathetic I am?’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I think you give me too much credit. I’m not an actual doctor, you know,’ she said, coming to stand beside him. She inspected his ankle for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and it shocked him to see such intensity in her eyes. It was as if suddenly he was the most interesting person in the world.

‘I can say it was a running accident,’ she finally concluded. ‘You can tell your truth when you’re ready. It’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it right now. That includes me.’

He stared, stunned, as she packed up the last of her things by a spare medical cot at the other end of the hut. It wasn’t until she let out a loud yawn that Newt noticed it was dark outside. The silence of the Glade told him everyone else had gone to bed so it was late. Or early, he couldn’t really tell.

Y/N fluffed a sad excuse of a pillow and put it on the cot. ‘Now that I know you’re alive, are you going to be okay if I get a few minutes shut eye? I can stay up if you’d like.’

Now that the initial shock and embarrassment of the day’s events had subsided, Newt realised how exhausted he was still. ‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think I should rest a bit more anyway.’

Y/N nodded and swung her legs up to lie down fully. Newt went to slide himself and his pillow back down to do the same when Y/N spoke again.

‘And Newt?’ she said, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

She was silent for so long Newt thought she’d gone to sleep. But then she spoke. ‘For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic. For wanting it all to end, that is. I actually think what you did was really brave. You might be scared and maybe out of hope, but at least you did something about it. The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

Newt’s breath caught in his chest as it swelled with a mix of emotions. Brave? What he did was the act of a coward. Tears streamed silently down his face, both from a deep shame, but also a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Newt had lost all hope after a year of searching for a way out and finding nothing. But she didn’t know that, and neither will the next Greenie, or the Greenie after that. Even some of the boys already in the Glade didn’t know that. That’s why they waited every day for the runners – for him – to come back with news, with a shred of hope that they’d get out of there soon. 

Newt twisted himself so he could see Y/N, who was rolled away from him, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Even if he thought it would all be hopeless in the end, some truly believed they would get out of here.

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

~

Two years on and Newt and Y/N had managed to forge something akin to a friendship. 

Y/N had kept her word and said Newt had had a running accident, and he’d agreed with her for the sake of his worried friends. Y/N had also been right about his ankle; it healed to point where he could walk and do a decent jog with a limp. But he would never run again. 

He was transferred to work as a Track-Hoe in the gardens with Zart. But it wasn’t all bad. As more boys arrived – never any girls much to their confusion – Newt developed a knack for leading others, for diffusing hard situations, and for wrangling the boys into line. Because of that, he was promoted to Alby’s second-in-command, which gave him more meaningful work to do than just the gardens – stuff that might actually get him and the other Gladers out of the bloody Maze. 

It also meant he had more time to talk to Y/N. He would make sure to drop by once a day (and not just at mealtimes) to check in on her. For a time, he convinced himself he did that because it was his job as second-in-command to keep up group morale, and he would visit everyone in the Glade. Eventually, however, he realised it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Since that night, Y/N had come out of her shell more. Still a little shy and apprehensive at times, but she would openly joke and play along with the boys’ antics. She was more confident in her work as a Medjack too, not afraid to boss Clint and Jeff around if she needed something from them.

Newt’s visits became longer, as they talked about any and all things. Aside from Alby and Minho, Newt considered Y/N one of his closest friends. And she must’ve felt the same – or at least in a similar fashion – as she entertained his thoughts about life beyond the Maze, and the rants he would go on thanks to whichever stupid shank put the fertiliser in the wrong place.

It was a friendship built on mutual respect and genuine care for one another, something that helped Newt convince Y/N to come with him and the others when they finally decided to leave the Maze. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep dread and guilt as he waited behind Thomas, knowing that Grievers were right around the corner.

While the others caught up, Newt turned to Y/N – who’d been helping him through the Maze with his limp – and offered her a spare spear he’d been carrying.

Her eyes widened at his offering. ‘I can’t take that. I can’t fight.’

‘Well, you can’t just go in there without something to protect yourself,’ he said, this time forcibly handing the spear over. Y/N clutched the spear awkwardly, and Newt saw the uncertainty in her eyes, in her trembling hands.

Newt felt bad for making her hold such a violent weapon. All her hands had ever done were help people, save them at times. Now he was asking her to kill. It was for the greater good they both knew, but to kill, nonetheless.

Newt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘you stay with me the whole time, do you understand? I promise you won’t have to use that unless absolute necessary.’

Y/N bit her lip to stop it trembling too, but she nodded, steeling herself in preparation for the fight ahead. Newt reciprocated the action and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to face Thomas as he explained the plan.

They fought the Grievers, taking down a few while some of them took down Gladers. The Gladers were backed against the door that Teresa and Chuck were trying to open with a code. Minho shouted numbers at them as he, Newt, and the others fended off one last Griever.

Before he could finish, Minho was caught by a Griever, and Clint ran out to save him. But the Griever’s tail caught him, sending him over the edge of the walkway they fought on with one flick.

‘Clint!’

Before Newt could stop her, Y/N rushed out from behind him, spear drawn back and flying at the Griever in seconds. Not being a fighter to begin with, let alone a good one, the spear bounced off its metal leg without much effect. It did, however, alert the Griever to her presence, turning all its attention to her. Minho leapt to his feet, finally free, and ran back to the group. ‘Y/N!’ he cried as he ran. ‘Run!’

Y/N seemed to finally realise her situation, looking up at the Griever frozen with fear. The horrible creature raised its claw to end her, but Newt moved faster. 

He ran as fast as he could, limp be damned, past Y/N and threw his spear at the Griever’s head. It landed true, puncturing one of the creature’s bulbous eyes, drawing a painful screech from it. Newt didn’t wait to see what it would do next, as he grabbed one of Y/N’s arms and Minho grabbed the other and ran back to the group, practically throwing her behind the front line and against the door. 

Teresa finally got the door open and the Gladers tumbled in, Thomas throwing one last spear down the Griever’s throat as the doors closed. 

Lights flickered on to show they were in some empty room with a door on the wall behind them leading to a corridor.

Thomas looked at the group, taking heavy breaths. ‘Everyone okay?’

‘What’s left of us, that is,’ Winston said, his tone sad and regretful. 

As Newt eyed the group, he noted how many they’d lost, how little their group seemed all of a sudden. 

Minho stepped ahead with Thomas, pointing towards the door. ‘Well? It’s not going to open itself.’

As Minho and Thomas led the group to the exit, Newt turned to Y/N, whose eyes had a distant look glazed over them. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, bringing her attention to him. ‘I told you to stay behind me. You could’ve been killed.’

‘I-I know. I’m sorry,’ she stuttered out, tears teetering in her E/C eyes. ‘I just… Clint… It all happened so fast, and I was just kind of moving before I knew what I was doing.’ She looked down at her hands then, and Newt noticed a slight tremble to them. ‘I thought I could help, but I was too slow. And I put you guys in danger too. I’m just… I’m sorry.’

Newt’s guilt came back full force then. He placed a gentle hand over her trembling one, grasping her fingers to stop their shaking. When she looked up at him confused, he just said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into thinking you had to fight. You won’t ever hold a weapon like that again. I promise.’

Y/N opened her mouth to object no doubt, but Newt cut her off. ‘But you have to promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll let us protect you. You can help by keeping us alive, just like you always have. But you’ve got to listen to me, you got it?’

He used his authoritative voice this time, and it seemed to work as Y/N calmed down, her unshed tears now gone.

‘Okay,’ she said, quiet but strong. ‘I promise.’

Newt nodded. ‘Good that.’ He turned to see the others leaving through the door then turned back to Y/N. ’Do you think we’d be lucky enough not to face anything else beyond those doors.’

‘I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting this far.’ To her credit, Y/N managed a small smile as she looked up at him. ‘But why should our luck run out now?’

There it was again; the glimmer of hope Newt had felt from her since the night he injured his ankle. Newt couldn’t deny that they’d made it this far – by design or by luck, they’d made it. 

And who was he to deny that things might be on the look up for them now?

Together, Y/N and Newt followed the rest of the Gladers to meet their makers.

~

‘I never thought I’d say this… but I miss the Glade.’

The group around the fire grew silent at the implication Frypan’s words had, the memories they conjured up. Y/N couldn’t help but agree as she looked into the dark sky above her, peaking from behind the crumbling pillars they took refuge under. 

The sky was always so clear back in the Glade, she recalled silently. But, just like their current situation, the sky was now obscured. 

The people who rescued them from the Maze were actually WCKD – the people who’d put them in the Maze in the first place. The past twelve hours had seen herself, Newt, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Winston, and a boy named Aris find Teresa, break out of the facility, and enter the deadly Scorch. In their search for supplies, they’d been attacked by crazed, infected people, driving the group to hide where they were.

The Maze was dangerous, but it was familiar and the only home Y/N recalled ever having. Out in the Scorch, safety wasn’t guaranteed. 

She looked to Winston, who laid back, his shirt pulled up to expose the bloody bandage she’d wrapped his torso in. Y/N tried not to think about the infected scratch marks underneath, and more specifically what gave them to him. The Grievers were one thing, but the things that attacked them? They used to be people.

Not wanting to sit in her thoughts anymore, Y/N stood up, brushed off her pants, and grabbed knife from their pile of weapons they’d found in the abandoned mall. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ 

She didn’t wait to hear if anyone objected, already walking around the stone that covered them so she was on top. To her relief, the others let her go without argument, putting out the fire and quickly settling down to sleep.

After half an hour, Y/N decided to get up and patrol around the area, knife tightly gripped in her hand and her footsteps quiet despite the sand. 

There was so much of it,  the sand. The lady in white – Doctor Ava Paige – had said in her video that the whole world was just desert now. The thought made Y/N yearn for the Glade even more. For the grass, and the woods, and the bonfires they used to have, and the games they played. The boys – Clint, Jeff, Alby, Gally, Chuck. 

Y/N wasn’t a hateful person, but she clutched the knife tighter at the thought of all the loss they’d all suffered at the hands of WCKD. 

It’s why she didn’t hesitate to follow Newt when he’d found her in her room – for some reason, she hadn’t been allowed to stay with the other girls from the other mazes just yet. It’s why they were now braving the Scorch searching for people that Thomas didn’t know even existed. They wanted a better life out from under WCKD’s thumb.

The crunch of sand had her whirling around, awkwardly poising the knife as if to attack, but she relaxed at the familiar person standing there.

Newt raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there,’ he said, the quirk of a smile on his lips telling her he was just joking. ‘You could do some real damage if you’re not careful.’

Y/N blew out in relief, the knife dropping to her side again. ‘Thanks, but we both know that’s not the case, Newt.’

Newt shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he did. ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen you with a scalpel. Absolutely terrifyingly precise with that thing.’

Y/N chuckled softly, appreciative of the distraction. But her smile dropped as she looked out into the dark cityscape. The moon hid behind clouds so Y/N couldn’t make out anything. ‘Is it pathetic that I’m scared to see what the world has become?’ she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a soft mumble.

Newt stepped up beside her, his body radiating the last remnants of heat from the fire and it warmed her slightly. ’Someone once told me that I was brave for facing my fear,’ he said after some quiet contemplation. 

Y/N looked up at him confused, but he looked down at her with a knowing, smug smile. Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him. ‘I don’t recall saying that specifically. But if that’s how you saw it, who am I to tell you that wasn’t what I meant?’

Newt hummed in agreement looking back out at the dark expanse, contemplation scrunching his brows together. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too.’

That surprised Y/N. Newt, second-in-command, casual, leader Newt was scared? ‘You are?’

Newt nodded. ‘I’m scared that we’ve made a mistake. That Thomas is wrong and there aren’t any mountain people.’ He turned back to Y/N, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘I’m scared we’re going to lose more of us, and then what was our escape for? But… it’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it. Including myself.’ Finally, Newt’s smile returned, and it warmed that cold pit of despair Y/N had been falling into ever since they left the WCKD facility. ‘Or, at least, I think that’s what someone very wise once told me.’

Y/N stared at him, awestruck. Hopeful. Newt was hopeful again. And she didn’t want to read into it, but she thought the knowing smile he was giving her told her that she had something to do with it. The thought alone strengthened her resolve, and she looked down at the knife in her hands, less afraid of it all of a sudden.

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘What?’

’Teach me. How to fight,’ Y/N explained, eyes unwavering from his. 

Concern flashed across Newt’s face for a brief moment. ‘Y/N, I told you, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.’

‘If there is one thing I’ve come to know about WCKD is that it doesn’t actually matter what I want anymore. What any of us want,’ Y/N said, feeling the most certain she’s felt in a long time. ‘The one thing we have on WCKD is that we are defiant. We escaped, and are taking away the one thing they want most of all: a chance to find a cure. So, if we’re going to have any hopes of making it to the mountains alive, I’m going to have to know how to fight. So please – teach me.’

Newt contemplated her for a moment, and Y/N just prayed he wouldn’t say no. Or even worse, laugh. Instead of doing either, he took the knife from Y/N’s hand, his fingers brushing across her palm as he did. 

‘All right,’ he said, moving his feet apart to get into a fighting stance. ‘First of all, you’ve got to have a wide-ish stance, and stay light on your toes so you can control when you back away from your opponent.’ 

He demonstrated the movement by quickly shuffling away, always keeping his feet a certain distance apart and the knife gripped tight by his hip. ‘…and when you go into attack.’ He moved so fast Y/N didn’t see his footwork, her eyes locked on his as they bored into hers, knife poised at her neck as if he’d strike.

He stepped away and gave her the knife back. ‘You think you can do that?’

Y/N nodded and took the knife, and for the next hour Newt taught Y/N basic blocks and manoeuvres that he’d picked up from Thomas and Minho and just from basic instinct. Just like she’d been with her Medjack skills, Y/N was a quick study, performing move after move when Newt asked her to. 

She impressed herself. For a natural pacifist, she wielded the knife quite fluently.

They decided to finish the session on a quick sparring match. Newt took a swipe at Y/N, and she stepped back just like Newt had taught her. She then rushed in for an attack, to which Newt threw up his own knife in time to block. Y/N anticipated the pushback and twisted out of Newt’s way as he stumbled slightly forward. While he was disorientated, Y/N gripped his wrist that controlled his knife and pointed her own into his back. 

‘Looks like I win,’ she said, breathless but proud.

Y/N didn’t like the carefree scoff he gave her, followed by, ‘Are you sure?’

She doubted herself for a moment, loosening her grip enough for him to twist out of her reach, knock her knife away and bend to sweep her legs out from underneath her. Y/N landed hard, groaning at the pain in her butt as Newt looked down at her and laughed. 

‘I’m glad you find my pain amusing, Newt,’ she grumbled, rubbing her sore behind.

Newt laughed for a moment longer then calmed down. But his radiant smile remained on his face, brightening the darkness surrounding them. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said between remaining chuckles. To his credit, he held out his hand in an offer to help her up. ’But the surprise on your face was priceless.’

Y/N contemplated his hand for a moment, whether she should just push it away or take it. Instead, an idea came to mind, and she gripped his hand tightly then pulled him to the ground with her. He landed on his stomach beside her, getting a face full of sand.

Y/N let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth to stifle the relentless laughter that wished to burst from her. 

Newt spat and coughed out sand as he made to sit up. ‘Well,’ he started, spitting out more sand as he looked up at Y/N, ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’

That just made Y/N laugh even harder, using now both hands to quieten the giggles. Goodness, when was the last time she’d laughed this freely? When was the last time she’d felt such joy? After everything they’d been through, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten what was like to laugh.

When she’d calmed down, she looked down to see Newt propped up on his arms looking up at her with an odd expression on his face. Like he was in awe, maybe. Whatever it was, it made Y/N acknowledge how handsome Newt had become. His baby features had faded since she’d first met him, being replaced by a lean figure and a toned jawline from working in the gardens every day for two years. And with his big brown eyes, tousled blond hair and funny accent, Y/N wondered how he had changed so much without her realising it. How she hadn’t realised he’d grown up.

The intensity with which he looked at her brought a heated blush to her face, and so she turned away into the cool night breeze, willing the blush to cool down. Newt shuffled to sit up next to her. They didn’t speak for a minute, until Newt suddenly stood up. 

‘Well, um,’ he started, and for the first time since Y/N had known him, he sounded uncertain about what to say. ‘I better let you continue with your shift. At least you know how to defend yourself now.’

Y/N hastily stood up as well, making sure there was at least a step between them. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll be sure to practice.’

‘Good that.’ 

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Newt said he was leaving, he made no move to leave. Maybe he doesn’t want to, she thought, and the mere possibility of that being true warmed her heart.

But he took a step away, gave her a shy smile and a small wave farewell. ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

‘Goodnight Newt,’ she said, those two words hanging in the air long after he’d left.

As she finally woke Frypan up for his shift, she clung to the knife and went through all the manoeuvres Newt had taught her until she fell asleep. 

Newt was unable to sleep until Y/N woke Frypan up to take the next watch shift, and laid down to sleep herself. Newt opened his eyes to see Y/N laying across the pit they’d dug out for the fire. She faced him on her side, and Newt noticed with curiosity that she held the knife she’d practiced with close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and paired with her heavy breathing, Newt figured she was completely asleep. 

An odd sensation fluttered in his chest and stomach as Newt considered Y/N’s sleeping face. It was the same feeling that had fizzled in his chest when he’d looked up at her as she laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed as freely as she had. 

And he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked doing so – hiding her bright smile behind trembling hands, eyes narrowed but sparkling with joy. 

All because of him.

He rolled onto his back then, not wanting to give the thought anymore weight. There’s no point getting your hopes up, he reminded himself. But like a moth drawn to flame, Newt couldn’t help but tilt his head to gaze upon her peacefully sleeping. An ache carved itself deep in his heart. How had he not realised her growing up, changing? Being the only girl for a long time, of course he and the others found her pretty. But now that he looked at her – really looked at her, and wasn’t concerned with his life for just a split second – he realised just how beautiful she was. 

It was in her features, but also in her determination to be better for the group. It both hurt and impressed him when she asked for his help. He promised her she would never have to fight again, but things have changed drastically since the Maze.

It was in her ability to still find the joy in things, to still be able to laugh despite their situation.

It was how she believed in Thomas, in Aris, in the mountain people, even if she was scared. 

‘The rest of us can only wish to be as brave as you,’ he whispered into the night, a silent promise that he’d tell her that sometime. 

And with the fluttering in his chest finally easing into a calm warmth, he finally fell asleep.

~

Everything exploded with chaos as Y/N, Newt, Thomas, and Minho navigated their way through the Right Arm camp as guns fired and explosions went off. 

Teresa had betrayed them. Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was revealed in front of everyone, and she still couldn’t believe it as Minho pushed her head down, sheltering her from another explosion. Teresa truly believed WCKD could find a cure, but still at the expanse of Y/N and her friends’ pain. And just when Thomas was going to blow them all sky high, Jorge and Brenda had come in like a saving grace, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

‘This way!’ Thomas yelled over the din, beckoning them behind a weapons container.

However, Minho stopped suddenly and picked up a launcher. Keep going!’ Minho called over his shoulder as he shot at WCKD soldiers around him. ‘I’m right behind you!’

Thomas and Newt reached the container, but Y/N stopped and turned at the sound of a painful cry. ‘Minho!’ she cried as her friend fell, his body convulsing from a launcher shot. 

‘Y/N, no!’ Newt called after her, but she was already running back to Minho, grabbing at his jacket to drag him to safety. 

But Y/N was not strong like the boys, and certainly not strong enough to move Minho in any hurry. She looked up just in time to see a launcher fire at her, then her body felt like it was on fire. 

She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything as the electricity struck every nerve with a vicious bite. After what felt like an eternity of pain, she was granted a moment of peace as her vision went white, then in a flash was swamped by darkness.

Newt’s heart stopped when he saw Y/N shot. She convulsed as Minho had, then collapsed beside their friend unconscious. The second Y/N hit the ground, Newt found his voice again, feelings of anger and desperation clawing their way through every vein in him.

‘Y/N, no!’ His cry came out broken as he made to run to her, but a strong hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him back. 

‘No, boys,’ Vince shouted over the din, holding both Newt and Thomas back. 

‘Let me go!’ Newt protested, struggling against Vince, eyes darting between him and Y/N. ‘I need to help her! Y/N!’

But WCKD soldiers were already picking up Y/N and Minho’s unconscious bodies, dragging their feet through the red dirt and into a berg.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Vince said, and Newt thought he sounded genuine. But that didn’t stop icy terror gripping tight on his heart as the doors began to close on Y/N, Minho, and other immunes from the Right Arm.

Thomas called for Minho, and Newt called for Y/N, but neither could do anything to help their friends as they were flown away. Back in WCKD’s clutches once again.

When the sun rose, the remaining survivors came out of hiding and began scrounging up supplies. They were moving on, Vince claiming there was nothing they could do but keep going with who and what they had left.

Newt couldn’t accept that, and neither could Thomas apparently, as he claimed he was going after Minho, Y/N and the others. Without hesitation or any further explanation, Newt was the first to sign up and join him.

And so, they went on a quest to rescuing Minho, Y/N, and as many immunes as possible. The train hijack was a huge success with immune numbers, but no Minho and no Y/N. Even so, Newt refused to accept that he’d never see either of them again. Even when they almost got killed by cranks. Even when he, Thomas, Brenda, Frypan, and Jorge were almost blown up by turret guns.

Even when he found out he was infected with the Flare.

He could feel it, his mind slowly slipping away as the Flare ate away at his sanity. He was usually level-headed and rational – it’s part of the reason he became second-in-command in the first place. Guilt and shame ate away at him as he sat on the rooftop of their hideout in the outskirts of the Last City, explaining to Thomas why he just bit his head off about being in love with Teresa.

Not that I’m one to talk, he thought as he rolled down as his sleeve, silence wrapping around him and Thomas comfortably. Newt could feel Thomas didn’t know what to say, and Newt didn’t like long silences so he broke it.

‘The crazy thing, though is…’ Newt started, a soft but sad scoff escaping him, ‘I’m not scared of dying. I used to be, back in the Maze. Because it felt like my friends were dying for no reason, without purpose. But…’ Newt looked over his shoulder, past Thomas, and to the peaking spires of the Last City. To where Y/N was being held somewhere.

‘I have something to die for now,’ Newt said, eyes never wavering from the spires.

Thomas came to sit beside Newt, a sad realisation drawing his brows and lips down. ‘You’re not just talking about Minho, are you?’ he asked.

It was how gentle and matter-of-fact Thomas spoke that had Newt’s chest tightening with fear and an immense pressure he’d been scared, until now, to acknowledge. His throat threatened to close on him as he spoke, rendering his words tight and uncontrolled. ‘I failed to protect her, Tommy,’ he managed to get out. ‘I promised I’d always protect her, and I didn’t.’ 

It surprised Newt how simultaneously hard and easy it was to speak about his feelings, and now that he had started, the words just flowed. 

’She’s just always been there, so I never saw it coming,’ Newt continued, a melancholic smile adorning his lips as he recalls the day he met you, how you helped him with his ankle. How, since then, you’ve always been by his side, growing with him, changing with him, supporting him and everyone else around you. 

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

‘I never saw that I could have a future after the Maze, after all of this,’ Newt explained. ‘That I would want a future… with Y/N.’ And with that, his tears finally spilled over, the pressure in his chest bursting into sobs that wracked his whole body. Newt was vaguely aware that Thomas was now holding him, and so he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, around his brother.

‘I love her, Tommy,’ Newt whispered over Thomas’ shoulder, his words obscured somewhat by his tears and holding back sobs. ‘And I’m scared I’ll never be able to tell her before I go.’

‘Hey,’ Thomas said, pushing Newt to arm’s length. He kept one hand on Newt’s shoulder and used his other to grip Newt’s neck, forcing their eyes to lock. ‘We’re going to find her – and Minho, and the other immunes. We’re going to get you that serum that helps with the Flare – as much of it as possible – and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. No one is dying. You hear me?’

No one could replace Alby, but the way Thomas was taking control of the situation reminded Newt of his old friend. How kind yet stern he could be. How hopeful yet pragmatic he was. It was something familiar that Newt was thankful for. He quickly calmed down, wiped away his tears and nodded at Thomas.

‘Good that,’ Thomas said, a small proud smile gracing his lips at his use of Newt’s common phrase. 

Newt couldn’t help a chuckle as well. ‘Good that, indeed,’ he agreed, and followed Thomas back inside the hideout to finalise their plan to get into the WCKD facility.

…and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. 

There was a nagging voice in the back of Newt’s head that was telling him not to believe Thomas. That Newt was going to die, or worse, turn into a crank and hurt his loved ones. That voice had followed him from the Maze, to the Scorch, and now the Last City. It was the voice that had driven him over the edge of the Maze walls all those years ago. But not anymore.

Newt had to keep hope, just as Y/N had taught him. He just had to be brave.

~

Y/N sat in the corner of her white-walled cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she rested her head on top. She’d sat there for hours, perhaps days. Y/N lost track of time after her first month in WCKD’s facility. 

There were no windows, and the lights never dimmed. She pressed her eyes into her knees in the hopes of downing out the incessant white light. Her eyes ached with sleep deprivation, but she refused to sleep. The nightmares were much worse to deal with, and they always came whenever she closed her eyes.

Images of her friends dying in the Maze and the Scorch, of Grievers chasing her, of her friends turning into cranks and attacking her. Images fed to her by WCKD. 

She knew they weren’t real, but she could never wake herself up in time to escape them. So, she stayed awake, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to face her nightmares when the doctors and scientists come to test on her again.

Y/N shivered at the thought of seeing another needle, of seeing her blood drained from her while WCKD turned her mind against her. When will it be enough? She might’ve lost track of time, but Y/N knew she’d been in the facility for a while now. If they hadn’t found anything by now, something told Y/N that nothing she gave would ever be enough. That included her life.

She knew Thomas and Newt would be dumb enough to come after her and Minho – that’s just the kind of people they were. Her heart ached at the thought that their efforts would be in vain. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Minho since they arrived, having been separated from each other and the other immunes. Something about how they were the most promising subjects, she overheard from a scientist one time. Y/N didn’t know if Minho was alive, and if he was, what condition he was in. 

But Minho was strong, the strongest of all the Gladers in Y/N’s opinion. If he was being tortured like her, he would be able to hold on. Y/N highly doubted she would last much longer.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Y/N wasn’t sure if Newt knew she was actually awake that first night in the Scorch, but she’d heard him, his words so soft she thought she’d dreamt it at first. But it had been real; Newt thought she was brave.

She was too dehydrated to produce tears, but an ugly sob desperately tried to escape her aching chest. She bit her lips instead, hard enough to draw a little blood, and the sob died out, leaving her body quiet except for her mind.

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

Even so, Y/N refused to crumble to WCKD anymore. They’d taken everything from her. Her life, her memories, her loved ones, her friends. Even her hope – something she so naively believed no one could take from her. They would not take her dignity.

She raised her head at the sound of her cell door unlocking, blinking a few times as bright light flooded her vision once more. Two WCKD soldiers and two scientists stood by the door, and Y/N spied a gurney just behind them. 

One of the scientists – young male, maybe in his early twenties – stepped forward. ‘Time for more testing, Y/N,’ he said in a cold tone. But he had the sense to look sympathetic as his eyes roamed over Y/N as she stood up, showing how pale her S/C skin had become, how dark the circles beneath her eyes were, how the cargo pants and grey t-shirt hung off her in areas where she used to fill.

Y/N knew it was useless, but still she ran for the door, pushing past the scientists with ease despite her weakened state. However, she hit the soldiers like a brick wall, unable to fight against them as they restrained her arms and pressed her against the wall. The male scientist recovered quickly and injected her with a serum that made her drowsy enough that she wasn’t in control of her body. She was conscious as the soldiers strapped her to the gurney and the four of them wheeled her down corridor after corridor, and all she could do was watch fluorescent lights pass her by as she stared at the ceiling. 

Soon enough, she was in a familiar room: the test lab. 

‘It hasn’t been that long since we last tested her,’ the other scientist – a female, about the same age as her co-worker – said, her words laced with worry. ‘We put her under again, we risk losing her for good this time.’

‘I didn’t make the call,’ the male said as he continued to set up equipment around Y/N. ‘When Janson says he wants a cure, I don’t question him. Do you?’

The female didn’t answer, switching her focus to helping her co-worker. Y/N could slowly feel the serum wearing off – it was obviously only a light dose, the scientists knowing they’d put her under when they began testing. 

But just as they unstrapped her to move her to the nightmare simulator, the room shook, sending Y/N rolling to the ground as glass and steel broke around her. 

Sounds were muffled briefly and her vision blurred in and out of focus. She couldn’t hear what exactly the soldiers were shouting, but she saw them run out of the room alongside other soldiers. That just left her and the scientists. 

Y/N flexed her fingers, the serum completely wearing off. Before she could stand though, two hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Y/N,’ the male scientist said, pushing her towards the machine. ‘Just one more trip under…’

Fear electrified Y/N’s every nerve. No, not again. With a desperate cry, she shoved the male into the utensils table, sending him and the tools scattering across the ground. Before he could get up, Y/N straddled his upper body and slammed his arms into the ground.

‘Get off me!’ he yelled, struggling violently beneath Y/N. He managed to twist them both around until she was the one pinned to the ground. Y/N struggled but to no avail. She was significantly weaker than she was when she was first captured and he knew that.

‘You little brat,’ he spat in her face. ‘Ungrateful, selfish immunes. Your duty is to save us all! You–’

He was cut off when he suddenly went slack, falling unconscious on top of Y/N. She scrambled out from underneath him, then looked up from the floor to find the female scientist with a syringe in her hand. She looked between her unconscious co-worker then Y/N, a scared and disbelieving expression morphing her delicate features. 

‘Go,’ the scientist finally said, her voice shaky, but the resolve in her eyes told Y/N that she wouldn’t chase after her. The room – no, the whole building – shook again, and when Y/N looked out the window, she realised why.

The city outside was on fire. Buildings crumbled, and Y/n could hear the screams and cries of civilians through the broken windows. The scientist wouldn’t chase her because there was no point. 

This was the end.

‘Go!’ The scientist insisted, and Y/N didn’t think twice. She picked herself up, ignoring the cuts and scraps of glass it caused her, and ran out of the room.

She ran into the corridor, ignoring the cries of soldiers and other scientists who recognised her as a subject. She didn’t know where she was going, but this was the most freedom she’d had in forever.

Then a thought came to her – Minho. She had to find him, he surely had to be alive. She would run through every floor if she had to to find him. So she ran, looking into every test lab, every storage closest, every break room on the floor. 

‘Minho!’ she cried, uncaring at this point if someone heard her. She just wanted to find him. She didn’t want to die without a familiar face with her. ‘Minho, where are you?’

She rounded a corner, right into the chest of a WCKD soldier. He was caught by surprise, giving Y/N an opportunity to slam him into the wall. It was like her fear was giving her a boost of strength, as she kneed him in the groin, sending him to the ground. He dropped the pistol he was holding, and she quickly picked it up and smacked the butt over the back of his head. He fell to the floor in one last scuffle and laid unmoving as Y/N sucked in deep breaths.

‘Y/N?’

She whirled around at the familiar call of her name, only to find three other people had entered the corridor. Thomas, Minho, and Newt. Her eyes scanned over them all, heart aching with an intense relief it threatened to crush her chest. ‘Guys?’ Her voice was hoarse with disuse and exhaustion. She was surprised she even had a voice after all her screaming.

Newt stepped forward, a relieved smile gracing his lips. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, sounding on the verge of tears. ‘It’s us.’

Y/N’s first instinct was to run into his arms, the only place she’d felt since leaving the Maze. But she took a closer look at him. He was paler than when she last saw him, almost sickly with how dark the circles under his eyes were. Crank.

She pointed the pistol at her friends, causing them to raise their hands in shock. ‘Whoa, Y/N, it’s us!’ Thomas exclaimed.

‘No,’ she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘How do I know I’m not in that simulator again? How do I know this isn’t just another test, another trial?’

‘What are you talking about, Y/N?’ Newt asked, worry crinkling his brow. 

’She doesn’t trust her mind,’ Minho said, as if in explanation. ‘Boy, they really did a number on her…’

‘Shut up!’ Y/N unlocked the safety and pointed the gun at Minho. ‘You’re just trying to trick me. Make me think everything is all right. But it’s just a lie. You’re not here. You’re not here…’

Newt stepped into the firing line. ‘We are here, love. I promise, we’re really here.’

‘Newt…’ Thomas warned, but Newt remained, eyes locked on Y/N’s.

Y/N couldn’t look away from Newt. He sounded so genuine, so much more real than previous simulations. But WCKD couldn’t be trusted, and they were wearing soldier uniforms…

Her hands shook but her voice was strong. ‘Prove it,’ she said. ’Tell me something only the real Newt would know.’

Newt swallowed thickly. ‘Okay, um… You cut yourself when you tried out being a Slicer and had to have Clint and Jeff fix you up. That’s when you thought being a Medjack would be a good idea.’

‘WCKD was watching us the whole time. They would’ve seen that,’ she countered, using both hands to grip the gun. 

‘Okay, okay,’ Newt said, looking away a moment to think of something else. When he finally looked back at her, he was calm once more, eyes genuine and sincere. ‘How about how I jumped off the walls of the Maze in an attempt to kill myself?’

The world around the four of them seemed to freeze, as if the world wasn’t collapsing outside. To Y/N’s knowledge, Newt had never told anyone the truth of what happened that day. It was the shocked and tragic expressions on both Minho and Thomas’ faces respectively that had Y/N loosening her grip on the gun slightly.

Newt took a small step closer, eyes never straying from her. ‘I had lost all hope of getting out of that bloody maze. So I did the one thing I could do to control the situation. But I failed.’ He stepped closer again. ‘I was embarrassed, ashamed. I was just a coward. But you healed me and told me something I will never forget. I have held onto it like a lifeline through the Maze, through the Scorch, and all the time I was looking for you.’

He took one final step towards her, unfazed at how the gun pressed hard against his chest. Now that he was so close, Y/N saw just how sick he was. He looked like the early stage victims of the Flare they’d seen in the decrepit city they’d lost Brenda and Thomas in temporarily. And while Y/N refused to believe Newt – her beloved, sweet Newt – was infected, his eyes were the same as always. Open, honest, and truthful.

‘The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

It wasn’t the fact that he knew the exact words – again, WCKD had cameras everywhere in that Maze, they would’ve heard it. It was instead the emotion tied to the words. She felt them, felt the lifeline they’d created for him in his darkest moment. He wasn’t lying, and that meant he was real.

Finally, she allowed the sob to break free as she dropped the gun and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. He breathed out in relief, bringing her closer to his chest, face pressed into her H/C hair.

‘It’s really you,’ she whimpered, grasping tighter to the person she’s always been able to rely on. The person who has always protected her and brought out the best in her. Her closest friend, her safety net, her home. 

‘It is, love,’ he said into her hair, breathing her in deeply. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pulling away to look up at him then to the other two. ‘I can’t believe you came after us.’

‘I know right,’ Minho said, punching Thomas’ arm lightly. ‘Dumb shanks.’

‘You can berate us later,’ Thomas said, rubbing his arm. ‘Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before Lawrence brings down the whole city.’

Y/N went to ask what he meant but gripped onto Newt instead as the building shook again.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Newt said, grabbing Y/N’s hand with one hand, and holding a launcher in the other. Together, the four of them ran to escape WCKD once and for all.

~

‘Brenda!’

Y/N didn’t care about the rain of bullets and walls of fire around her as she ran for the berg. After hearing Teresa’s broadcast, she needed to get the cure back to Newt fast. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she has had to do. He wasn’t in great condition, but Thomas insisted that he’d take care of Newt. But the medicine Thomas had given Brenda all those months ago didn’t just buy her time, it had cured her completely. It could do the same for Newt.

If she could make it in time.

‘Brenda!’ Y/N cried as she spotted her friend. ‘The cure! I need the cure!’

Brenda understood, immediately retrieving one of the extra capsules Mary had made from Thomas’ blood before WCKD raided the camp. ‘Here,’ she said, passing over the injector. 

‘Thanks!’ Y/N said, already sprinting back into the war zone before anyone could stop her. 

She could feel it, the exhaustion, the strain she was putting her body under. Underfed and under trained, she was struggling. But she refused to stop. Newt had come all this way to find her, risked his life to get her out of WCKD’s clutches when he could’ve been administered the temporary cure and been safe on the berg already. No, Y/N refused to let him die without trying.

Minho, Brenda, Frypan, and Gally – Y/N was still shocked about that revelation, but that was for another time to discuss - followed around her, covering her with guns and other weapons as they ran through the war zone.

After an eternity of running, the group rounded a corner to find a sight that made Y/N feel like she was back in the nightmare simulator. Newt was leaning over Thomas with a knife aimed at his chest.

‘Newt, no!’ Y/N cried, running towards the two boys without thought. 

Newt faced her at the call of his name, and she froze as she saw his black eyes. Dark veins branched over his skin and black blood dribbled from his chin. He was a full-blown crank now. 

He raced at her, snarling as he swung the knife at her throat. She ducked just in time and rolled away as he slammed the knife down where her neck was. She quickly jumped to her feet, and despite her fatigue, muscle memory took over her legs, then her hands. That first night in the Scorch came to mind, how her and Newt sparred. The injector was her knife, and Newt her proper opponent.

‘Newt, it’s me,’ she said, slipping into her Medjack demeanour – calm and steady. ‘It’s Y/N. Please, snap out of it for a moment so I can help you.’

She thought he would run at her again, but his brows crinkled with concern and he looked at the knife in his shaky hands. He looked back at her, and the voice he spoke with broke her heart. It was a mixture of his sweet accent and a gargled croak where blood clogged his throat. 

‘Y/N…’ he started. ‘Run away… Before… Before I kill you.’

The scene reminded her of the time he came in with his injured ankle. How desperate he was to fade into nothing because he was scared and ashamed of what he’d done. But just like then, she refused to be scared of him. 

Y/N shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Newt,’ she said. ‘None of us will.’

Newt seemed to realise there were more people than just her and Thomas, turning around to see the others. The sight of them seemed to distress him, though, as he snarled angrily and charged at her. She shuffled back as he swung at her again and again, but as she stepped back again, she tripped on something. She fell onto her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could gather herself up, Newt was on her, straddling her similar to how he had Thomas pinned before. Newt raised the knife to bring down on her but was tackled by Thomas.

They rolled for a little, then scrambled to their feet as they fought once more. This was Y/N’s only chance. She pushed herself up and ran for the boys, injector at the ready. Newt was bringing the knife forward in a wide arc that would gut Thomas when Y/N threw herself in between them, slamming the injector into Newt’s arm.

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’ 

She wasn’t sure who called her name, because all she could focus on was Newt as some of the blackness in his eyes cleared and she saw some of his gorgeous brown eyes. She also felt her body finally giving up. As if it knew that this was the end. After all the torture and pain, she had stayed alive so long for one reason. To save Newt – the boy who had been there from the start. So much so she hadn’t realised until he wasn’t there how much he meant to her. How he’d wormed his way into her heart and consumed it without her even knowing. 

She gripped his hand that held the knife in her stomach, unfurled his fingers from the handle, and brought them to her chest where her heart was slowly slowing down. Her weak legs gave out, and she brought Newt down to his knees with her. She could’ve been imagining things, but she swore she saw recognition in his half-black eyes which made her smile as tears finally fell from her eyes.

‘It’s okay, Newt,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay because… I love you.’

Her vision blurred and she finally let go of Newt as the both of them collapsed to the ground. Her breaths were short and sharp as the pain made itself known. A rush of feet thumped around her, and she had the slightest awareness that someone was moving her, but she didn’t care. She was finally at peace as darkness, at last, consumed her.

~

Y/N woke to the sound of waves rolling over on sand. The first thing she saw was grey canvas, then rolled her head around to see she was lying on a cot in a small tent with tables and medical supplies similar to how her Medjack hut looked. But she wasn’t alone.

‘Oh my God.’ Brenda’s face came into focus as the girl crouched by Y/N’s cot, disbelief and relief morphing her gentle features. ‘You’re awake! You’re finally awake!’

‘Ow,’ Y/N clasped at her head at the sudden loudness. ‘Could you lower your voice please?’

‘Yes, right, sorry,’ Brenda said, but her lips split in a bright smile as she helped Y/N sit up. ‘I’m just so happy you’re okay.’

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked, all she remembered was being stabbed then falling unconscious. She pulled up her fresh linen shirt to see her wound bandaged. ‘I thought I was done for.’

‘So did all of us,’ Brenda admitted, her tone sombre as she pulled up a seat beside the cot. ‘We got you to the berg as quickly as possible and Vince got you stable, but you just weren’t waking up. It’s been a week.’

‘A week?’ Y/N made to get up but sat back down as her wound pulled in an unpleasant way.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’ Brenda asked stabilising Y/N back in her bed. ‘You’ve just come out of a coma induced by physical and mental torture. Not to mention you were stabbed.’

‘I’m fine. Trust me, I’m trained… somewhat,’ Y/N said, this time able to swing her legs over the side of her cot. Brenda didn’t try and stop her, but she did have to help Y/N when she stood. ‘Now, where is Newt?’ Brenda didn’t answer right away, and tears threatened to pool in Y/N’s eyes at what her silence could mean. ‘Brenda… Is he… Is he alive?’

Brenda, again, didn’t answer, and her face didn’t give anything away either. Instead, she just held back the flap of the tent and motioned for Y/N to exit. Y/N took cautious steps forward as she followed Brenda into a completely new place that had her staring in awe.

It was a bustling camp where sleeping quarters and other spaces were mapped out by canvas strung up on carved wood pillars and posts. Y/N spied a kitchen area where she swore she heard Frypan laughing with some others. 

There was a gathering area where a giant stone stood in front of the seats. There were names carved into it, like what they used to do in the Glade. Y/N tried to make out if a certain blonde’s name was on it. She caught familiar names like Alby and Chuck, Clint and Jeff. 

‘Y/N?’ 

She swung around to find Brenda smiling as she was joined by Thomas, Minho, and Jorge. The three of them ran at her, arms wide open to capture her in a hug.

‘You crazy shank, Minho said, laughter on his lips. ‘Look who finally decided to join the living again.’

‘And here I thought I was the lazy slinthead for sleeping for so long,’ Thomas said jokingly, pulling Y/N in for another hug. ’I’m so relieved.’

‘Welcome back, hermana,’ Jorge said, a warm smile gracing his lips as he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

‘Good to be back,’ Y/N replied, smiling at the three males. ‘What happened after I thought I’d died?’

Thomas went to reply, but Minho cut in. ‘We’ll explain later. Right now, I think you should go say hi to someone else.’

Confused, Y/N followed Minho’s gaze to Brenda, who stood atop a hill and was staring over the other side of it. Y/N quickly reached Brenda’s position and followed her gaze to a large garden that people were working on. But her breath caught at the sight of a familiar blond at the edge of the gardens talking and pointing in all directions to people.

‘Hey, Newt!’ Brenda called out, causing the blond to turn around and look up. At first, he saw Brenda, but his gaze soon fell on Y/N and his whole face changed into disbelief.

With the other gardeners forgotten, he started climbing up the hill, and Y/N couldn’t wait another moment so she started walking down the hill. 

They met in the middle, with Y/N standing at Newt’s height on the uphill. Neither said anything to begin with, both in disbelief and awe at who stood in front of them. Y/N looked over Newt, noting he still looked pale and somewhat sickly. But the dark veins were gone, as was the black blood and his black eyes. And the sun shone so brightly that his hair looked golden. It was as if he was never infected to begin with.

With a shaky hand, she reached out to rest her hand over his beating heart. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered, too scared to voice it too loudly in case this was also another nightmare. 

But he proved her doubts wrong as he rested his own hand on top of hers. ‘I am,’ he said, and the usual warmth of his voice truly convinced her he was real. 

His face pinched suddenly with concern and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N,’ he said, his hand tightening slightly over hers. ‘I hurt you. I almost…’

‘It’s okay,’ she interrupted, using her free hand to cradle is cheek and keep his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t. I am here, too. Looks like we both saved each other.’

To her relief Newt smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, something she hadn’t seen on him in a long time. He nuzzled into her hand briefly, before bringing it down with his free hand so he held her hands between them. 

‘Before I passed out,’ he started, ‘I remember you saying something.’

‘Oh.’ A blush heated upon her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. ‘Right. I did say something.’

She was trying to play it cool, but as soon as his deep brown eyes fixed on her, she knew he could see right through her. But he didn’t smile smugly, he didn’t tease. He actually looked scared as his jaw clenched, fighting to find the next words to speak. 

‘You said you love me,’ he finally said, words tight but hopeful. ‘Is that true?’

Y/N’s mouth dried up suddenly, constricted by all the things she wished to say but couldn’t say all at once. It’s not like she was scared, she just never thought she would live long enough to have a future, let alone one with love. One with Newt.

But she had – she had survived WCKD’s cruelty, she had survived the terrors of the old world, she had survived when so many of her friends hadn’t. And it was her duty to live her gift of a life to the fullest.

‘Yes,’ she finally said, and it was like breathing in fresh air after being underground for so long. ‘I love you, Newt. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do. I love you.’ 

There was a second of hesitation, but then Newt broke out into a wide smile, and Y/N swore she saw tears brim in his eyes. He suddenly reached one hand up to cradle her neck as he pulled Y/N in for a sweet kiss that simultaneously knocked the air out of her and breathed new life into her. He held her neck and hip, and she pressed her hands against his chest, satisfied to feel his heart thundering beneath her hands. The heart that almost never beat again, the heart that had saved her over and over again. 

The kiss was short but was no less breath-taking, and when they pulled apart neither could stop the smiles on their faces. 

‘I love you, too,’ Newt said. ‘If that wasn’t already obvious.’

Y/N threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She slung her arms around Newt’s neck, a cheeky grin dancing across her lips. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe we could try that again to make sure?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers again. Y/N sighed into the kiss, grasping the baby hairs at the base of his head. 

They pulled apart at the sound of their friends whooping and clapping atop the hill. Y/N felt her face erupt with embarrassed heat, to which Newt laughed as she ducked her head into his chest. 

‘All right, come on lovebirds!’ Minho called out. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’

As they walked down out of sight, Y/N went to follow but was stopped by a loose grip on her wrist.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she turned back to Newt.

‘I just…’ Newt turned to the gardens below, then to the water, then to the sunset that bathed the whole camp in beautiful hues of orange, pink and purple. When he finally turned back to Y/N, she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome with that pure sunshine smile and sparkle in his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘For teaching me how to be brave,’ he answered.

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. ‘You were always brave, Newt,’ she said. ‘It’s how I learned how to be brave in the first place.’

Newt squeezed her hand in return, then they walked hand in hand back up the hill and down to dinner to where their friend awaited them. 

Where the lives they never imagined they’d get a chance to live awaited them.

[icharchivist]

I remember trash talking Takumi a lot as a teen lol Now you make me wanna re-read/ rewatch Nana!!

*HIGH FIVE* TAKUMI IS THE WORST. TOP ONE WORST PERSON EVER. 

At least even our teenselves would have agreed on that!! I had a friend who had a huge huge huge crush on Takumi and i’ve nEVER got it, i’ve always wanted to strangle him with my own bare hands. (I mean like i don’t judge either, anyone likes whoever even if they’re Problematic™, I just REALLY hate Takumi that much.)

and oh boy oh boy trust be told rn i’m just trying to dig some tags (im learning there is a model/singer/actress called Nana Komatsu so that’s not helping, and the Nana tag is impossible to dig through since it’s too generic of a name, so i’m digging around) so it brings back memories that i’ve had repressed for the longest time bc Nana made me cry so hard as a story-

im so sorry to make you want to go back to such a sad feast, i mean, the whole thing goes awfully downhill after what, volume 10??? and do i even need to bring up what happens in volume 20???  why would anyone want to go back to this story after that??? they have Takumi for fucksake why would anyone want to reread that

*takes a deep breath* perhaps it’s good just remembering Nana and not make ourselves cry over it. or no?

[mayyourshipsbewithyou]

Things I loved about In the Heights

-The sounds of the city are part of the music of the opening song

-The frame story is the only way this story should be told; the story only works if it shows the results of Usnavi's decision to stay

-Anthony and Lin shaking hands

-Yay to random mixed race couple asking for directions

-“I hope you’re writing this down I’m gonna test you later” only makes sense with kids

-Showing different residents of Washington Heights provides scale

-I’m not sure about the decision to cut Camila, but if it means less Nina drama, then I love it

-I love how Usnavi has his friends’ orders all ready to go

-LOVE how Usnavi announces Benny’s entrance

-Everything about Vanessa in this movie is perfect=> she’s given so much more depth, her beauty is downplayed, she’s kind of a nerd, but has a beautiful smile

-Nina’s heels=> metaphor for her reaching for the stars

-I love the actress that plays Nina; she’s the right age and her singing voice is so sweet

-Nina’s hair is straight when she’s at school; as soon as she comes home, it’s curly=>she can be herself at home

-When Nina turns around and sees the crowd of people counting on her=> I felt that

-I love seeing Nina get her acceptance letter; I remember what that was like for my brother

-Camila must have died while Nina was at college in this version; Nina lost her mother recently which helps explain her different reason for dropping out; she feels lost

-I don’t know why Sonny is using this deep voice, but I love it!

-Whoever decided to have 96,000 take place at the pool is a genius

-The graphics at the beginning of 96,000 are good for helping regular people understand the rap

-Pete just put his arm around Sonny=> are they dating?

-Sonny yelling 96,000 as he enters the pool=> the sound design

-Pete nodding along to Usnavi=> sucking up to the family

-Usnavi is such a proud cousin-uncle during Sonny’s part in 96,000

-Vanessa making her “I'll be downtown” walk down a ramp

-The dancer doing flips is now a diver doing spins into the pool

-On stage, the lighting was dark; in the movie, it’s underwater

-The circles of people in the pool reflect the zeros in 96,000

-Lin and Chris being rivals is perfect; their bromance is everything

-Nina and Benny being together before the events of the movie means they are the beta couple and have less drama than Usnavi/Vanessa which is how it should be

-Benny joins in during “on that fire escape”=> like West Side Story

-Benny’s “Let me in” against the fence is hilarious

-Nina and Benny are FUN, not angsty like in the original

-Nina following the little girl=> following herself, following her dreams which eventually lead her to the sea; all of this is done while she’s talking about her past

-Nina and Benny instrumental™ part 1 in the middle of “When You’re Home”, Benny interrupts=> their story isn't complete yet

-Benny says he believes in her without discounting her feelings

-Everyone loving Nina=> I finally get it

-Nina is home geographically and with people who love her

-Benny is Nina’s home

-In the Heights is about how dreams are great, but the life you have now can be so beautiful

-Nina’s hair during the dinner/club scene is great

-Usnavi is wearing his dad’s hat for his date with Vanessa; he knows that she is to him what his mom was for his dad

-Family dinners are the same in every culture

-Awkwardness of long-time friends going on a date

-Vanessa offers Usnavi his first drink of the night; he thinks that’s what she wants; because why would she want him and only him?

-Usnavi whispering in Vanessa’s ear is so sexy

-Love that Benny is on Nina’s side instead of being mad at her

-I wonder if they thought 5 years of Benny working for Kevin was too much or too little since they changed that line to "all these years"

-Benny’s reactions to Vanessa dancing at the club are hilarious

-Vanessa laughing at Usnavi dancing with someone else

-Nina is always smiling and laughing at the things going on around her; not as self centered

-Nina and Benny dancing at the club=> all of the yeses

-Usnavi is too nervous about being alone with Vanessa that he un-dated himself; he wasn’t quite ready

-Love that they consciously cut all the “Usnavi, help me” parts=> Vanessa is not a victim

-Fireworks are a romantic setting for Sonny and Pete, just saying

-Usnavi/Benny/Nina talking about the fourth member of their square gives me feelings; I need more of these four in fanfic, my dreams

-“I got to wait for Vanessa”=> the stuff dreams are made of

-Benny is such a good person; he’s even better than the original which is what he deserves

-Usnavi is relieved to have Vanessa call his name

-“Don’t walk away from us tonight”=> great addition

-To give Usnavi and Vanessa some of Nina and Benny’s original lines is to see the face of God

-The first time I saw this, I’m ashamed to admit, I thought Benny was going to steal money from the dispatch; I was a fool

-Dancer with fireworks on his shoes

-Benny is smart and good; he isn’t doing this for Kevin or Nina but for the people of New York

-Abuela was able to see stars again on the last night of her life

-I’m sad Blackout isn’t exactly the same but the orchestral parts that cover up what is unsaid is so beautiful it makes up for it

-Abuela’s family is her “fireworks”; they are what light up the Heights

-Sonny came to Usnavi instead of being with his dad during the blackout; his real family

-Abuela’s smile as she looks at her family while reflecting on her childhood is the most beautiful thing there will ever be

-Paciencia y Fe as a dream sequence is how it was meant to be

-The transition on the subway from reality to memory

-Paciencia y Fe is a mixture of cultures; like Abuela’s memories

-“Wide awake”=> stepping off the subway

-The same actress played Abuela on Broadway and in the movie

-Abuela may be in a musical, but she’s still an old woman

-“As I feed these birds”=> back to the present

-Calor means heat in Spanish but in English it sounds like color

-Abuela dying during the night of the blackout is perfect

-Usnavi saying “she was just here” twice: when she was literally just there and many years, maybe a decade, after the fact

-Usnavi’s daughter is the life that goes on after Abuela is gone

-Usnavi and Nina crying together

-Those closest to Abuela are inside and everyone else is outside

-Iris was sitting on the outside and now she’s in the middle; needed comfort from her friends

-“Should we take a break?”=> we’re past the point of an intermission

-“No daddy, keep going”=> does this look like a stage production to you? It’s a fucking movie

-There isn’t a clear point for an intermission; the action stays strong over where the intermission should be; this is a movie, not a play, and movies don’t have intermissions

-Everyone’s holding candles; like the stars Abuela loved so much

-Iris called Usnavi Daddy for the first time because that was the point in the story where he needed to hear that the most

-“I thought about the people I care about the most, I thought about you”

-Anthony makes Usnavi sexy in a way Lin never could

-So many people love Vanessa, but no one better than Usnavi

-Abuela paid to have Camila's napkins cleaned after all

-Usnavi is the kind of parent that doesn’t sugarcoat life

-Vanessa listed no emergency contacts even though she had people

-“That’s senorita to you”=> yes girl, get it

-Love Daniela for getting everyone out of their asses

-“Tonteria” means foolishness=> the more you know

-How fast Carla says no to “ask me why” shows how quickly she wants to please her love

-Usnavi’s Nueva York t-shirt=> I need it

-Daniela’s first effect being on a woman whose hair is terrible

-Carla pushing that man away from her woman with a bullshit excuse

-My friend was laughing at the parts that were meant to be jokes

-Usnavi’s entrance being announced in Carnaval del Barrio; just like Benny in the opening song

-“There’s nothing holding me down”=> assuming he was rejected

-The different communities dancing with their flags

-Nina being part of Carnaval del Barrio is great

-Even Kevin, kind of an old man, can get down

-Since Nina and Benny sex scene wasn’t shown on screen (praise Jesus), I have to assume Nina told Daniela even though she knows she’s a huge gossip

-Everyone stops because Sonny, a kid, starts singing

-Vanessa and Sonny are so powerful together

-Vanessa’s hand on Sonny’s shoulder

-A kid providing Usnavi with the “flag I’ve got in my hand”

-Usnavi and Vanessa dancing together is muy romantico

-Everything about Nina’s appearance in “When the Sun Goes Down”

-“Let me just listen to my block”=> peak Nina

-Abuela wrote “for Usnavi” on her lotto ticket 😭

-They cut so many songs but kept Champagne=>I love their priorities

-The pause before “you outta stay”

-Everyone has such great chemistry; especially Usnavi and Vanessa

-The choreography in Champagne is what I’ve always imagined

-Usnavi didn’t have time to cash in because Vanessa came over

-Vanessa and Pete friendship for the win

-“Best days of my life” is said thrice=> good things come in threes

-Usnavi staring at the room where Vanessa kissed him

-Iris knows he stayed; she loves her dad so much

-Usnavi looking out his window in Washington Heights and seeing his friends on his dad’s beach

-When Usnavi talks about Kevin at the dispatch, the camera flashes to an abandoned building

-“Vanessa at the salon”=> Usnavi sheds a tear

-Vanessa being front and center during Usnavi’s decision to stay

-Hearing the sounds of the beach during the unveiling

-It’s all about Vanessa=> perfection

-Lin being at the ending is perfect no matter the context

-“Say it so it doesn’t disappear”=> the sad reality is your neighborhood probably will disappear

-Usnavi telling his daughter “you’re it” is everything

-Iris understanding all of the little details of her father’s store now that she knows his story

-Iris is the goddess of the rainbow like the light that appears when water appears on a sunlit day

-“Man, you talk forever”=> that’s so “How I Met Your Mother”

-Iris has a necklace of seashells, like the islands

-Vanessa would sooner get wet than let go of Usnavi’s hand

[genderisareligion]

Sometimes I wonder how my feminist sisters are so strong?

there are days when its too overwhelming to see all those little details of the patriarchy, when I go out and see couples, the girl covered in makeup, perfect hair, body so thin that it becomes fragile instead of strong, I wonder? How many desserts would she've rejected and sacrificed even more in order to "feel good about herself"? and I see "males" living without having to worry about their appearance, gulping like pigs whatever food is put in front of them, shamelessly, without having to feel worry or anxiety about gaining a few more pounds.

sometimes it becomes quite difficult for me to see all the patterns, small details, anger that we keep and trying to go against the current, and then turn around and see that they don't notice it, that for them all that is "normal", and I want to scream and shake their heads violently as I ask them "why are you doing that!?", will this always be like this? Why are we the only ones fighting so fervently? Why aren't other women by our side fighting for OURSELVES?

I don't know, sometimes being in this cage and knowing the truth makes me feel even more alone and imprisoned.

They say the truth sets you free but somehow I don't feel free at all :(

I know the feeling. I haven’t been feeling the rage as much this year, it’s numbed over into something like the motivation to kick misogyny’s ass first and deal with my feelings later, but I go through phases where it feels like I’m in too much pain to be a feminist. My coworker situations are always distant because I’m a closet misandrist lol. I listen to mostly straight women talk about their lives and casually throw around internalized misogyny or talk about the ain’t shit men they’re putting up with who don’t deserve them and I just have to stay quiet. Radblr helps. Seeing my mutuals cope with feminist backlash with humor is enormously helpful. Seeing women like @kronkk and @monapill on the dash keeps me going 

I also often think about @radicallyaligned ‘s post where she says radfems should only be allowed one hour of no hope for women a day and the rest of the 23 should be in celebration. That’s not always possible given the amount of anti feminist bullshit in the world but I try to think about how far women have come as often as I can. I live with my mother and grandmother at the moment and hearing stories from their lives more often gives me perspective. When my mom was born my grandmother still couldn’t get her own bank account, was dealing with racial segregation on top of sexism that was just barely being addressed in the 60s. Now she can live comfortably without my grandfather and has granddaughters with master’s degrees. In the grand scheme of things as a Black woman I have a shit ton of freedom today that I wouldn’t have just decades ago. 

I think about the women with platforms who are speaking out like JKR and Allison Bailey who are going through it backlash wise worse than I am, grateful that at least the peak tide is turning with them even if it seems small 

If anyone else wants to chime in with ways they stay strong let us know 

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

MAYBE IT’S CALLED FATE

Prompt: Request, by the ever so lovely @auawdo Thank you so much for your request, pumpkin! I hope you’ll like it

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Seth Rollins x Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut(implied), cursing

Tag: @marlananicole , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This has gained Seth a bigger space in my heart 🥰 Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

PRESENT DAY

Staring out the big windows that display the snowy weather of Davenport, Iowa. I retraced the journey that lead me here...

FLASHBACK - 8 YEARS AGO

“Y/N? Where are you, babe?”

From the bedroom I heard the loud thump of his duffel bag being tossed on the floor

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for y- Are you ok?” He urgently asks, running to me

“Seth, I need to talk to you”

“Uh Oh, those words are an omen for bad news” He whispered

“Please, seat down” I ask and he oblige

“I have to do this quickly, like a band-aid” I murmur to myself

“What will you have to do it quickly, Y/N?”

“I can’t stay here”

“What do you mean? You don’t want to live in Iowa anymore? That’s ok, we can move to Florida if-“

“No, Seth... I mean, I don’t think we should be together anymore” I whispered with tears in my eyes

“You wanna break up? But why? Have I done something wrong? Because if I did I’m sure we can work it out a-“

“No...”

“You don’t love me anymore?” Seth asked with hurtful eyes

“I do, I do but-“

“I love you too, Y/N. So, end of story!” He huffed

“Seth, I wish there could be an easier way-“

“Why are you doing this? What changed your mind? Did you fell in love with someone else? What is it, Y/N?” Seth screamed

“I don’t think it’s fair ok? Babysitting while I’m injured is not fair to you, having to stay here waiting for you to come home is not fair to me, holding you back from enjoying yourself with other women is not fair to you and wondering if you have been sleeping with other women night after night is not fair to me. So let’s stop it before we hurt each other”

“What? First of all, I don’t babysit you, I TAKE CARE of you because I love you! Second of all I NEVER cheated on you and you know that. I FaceTime you every night until I fall asleep, just so we don’t feel lonely, because I know how hard this can be! I’ve been on your shoes...And for the record, you’re the one who’s hurting me with this breakup bullshit thing”

Seth tugs on his hair from frustration, pacing around the room

“I’m sorry, but is for the best Seth” I caress his beard, memorizing every feature of his face

“These are the painkillers, the stress and the injury speaking not you...It’s not you, right baby?” He asked in despair

“I’ll always love you Seth, you’re an incredible man and someday you’ll find a very lucky girl who deserves you”

“No, I want you! You deserve me” He grabs my suitcase, trying to pull it out of my hand “You’re not leaving, I won’t allow it. You’re not going anywhere” Seth tugs on the suitcase.

“Seth, please don’t do this” I beg

“No” He sobs “Please don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me, Y/N. I need you, I love you, I can’t live without you” Seth grabbed my face softly in his hands “Please tell me that you’re kidding me, that this is a prank...Please Y/N this can’t be true. Tell me you still love me, that we’ll be together! I can’t-“ Seth began to cry uncontrollably

“Shhhh...I’m sorry, baby. You’ll be fine. I promise you, you’ll be ok” I try to comfort him

I laid with him on his bed one last time, enjoying his bearded cheek on my chest one last time. Running my fingers through his hair gently, reassuring him that it will all be fine. When his sobs were replaced by a soft snoring, I stand up from the bed, covering Seth’s body with a blanket. Pecking his lips for the last time, I grabbed my suitcase, slowly closing the bedroom door and leaving behind what it used to be my home.

FLASHBACK - 7 YEARS LATER

The last thing I wished was see him again, the last thing I wanted was to end up in SmackDown with him and of course that God was in his jokester mood today and decided to deliver me this little joke called fate.

“Y/N? I can’t believe it!” Roman ran to me, giving me a bear hug and successfully spinning me around the arena’s hallway.

“Oh Lord, calm down you Samoan beast! Jesus” I laughed loudly

“I didn’t knew you were back! Why didn’t you told me?”

“I didn’t wanted to draw to much attention” I trailed off

“Because of Seth?” Roman asked and I just gave him a sad smile as an answer

“You can’t hide forever, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“I know... I just need a few days”

“Or not” Roman said, pointing with his chin at someone behind me

I felt his presence before I could see him

“Y/N?”

I turn around to meet his gaze, it had a mixture between surprise, pain and...love?

“Hello, Seth”

“Oh my God, it’s been so long” He reaches his arms for a hug but ended up changing his mind “What are you doing here?”

“I needed a job, so” I laughed lightly

“I thought I would never see you again”

“Looks like destiny has other plans” I mumbled

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

For the next two weeks I bump into Seth everywhere I go: arena, hotel, gym, convenience store, liquor store, diner, bar, even at a club’s bathroom line! The chemistry between us was still there, awake. Even after all those years my body called for him like some sort of drug. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wanted him back, not just for the sex but for everything else.

I’m at the local Starbucks when I meet him again (it’s the fourth time today), I had to put an end to this so I decided to talk to him about everything that happened in the past.

“Sure, we can talk about it” He shyly answered

We chose a hidden bench at the local park to sit down

“Thank you, for agreeing with this”

“It’s fine, Y/N” Seth weakly smiles

“Well, first of all, I would like to apologize to you. For everything I did back then...I wasn’t thinking straight and I don’t know what took ahold of me to have made such a dumb decision”

“And it took you 7 years to realize that?” He asked, sounding hurt and mad at the same time

I shook my head “No, to be honest with you, I regretted my decision when as soon as I got home”

“Why didn’t you called me then?”

“Because I thought you would be angry at me, wouldn’t want to see me or talk to me. The mere thought of you rejecting me was unbearable” I whispered

“And how do you think I felt?” Seth spat “Do you think it was fun for me to wake up and find out you were gone? I called you Y/N, I texted you, I called your brother, your sister, even your mother! I sent you emails, I went to your house, I tried everything I could to get you to talk to me. Just so at least I could get some type of closure, but you never gave me that opportunity. You shut me off, pretended I never existed, erased me from your life and now you expect me to do what? To welcome you back in my arms? To say that I missed you and that I was waiting for you all those years? Is that what you want? For me to stop my life completely just so you can enter it again and ruin it again once you decide you‘ve had enough of me?”

The only thing I could do was to remain silent, I knew Seth and I knew that sooner or later he would end up lashing out and saying everything he always wanted to say for those past 7 years, so I just sat there and took it like a big girl even with the tears rolling down my eyes. Afterall, I was the one who brought that to myself.

“I can’t do that, I gave you too much power the first time and I will not give you the same power again! When you left I hit rock bottom Y/N, my life was partying, booze and pussy. I almost lost my job because of that! Do you know how many nights I spent awake thinking of you? Crying over you? Trying to understand what had I done wrong for you to leave me like that? Do you know how many women I fucked thinking about you? Wishing they were you? Wishing to wake up in the morning and find you laying there by my side? Wishing that it was all a nightmare? Now you come here, 7 years after the shit storm and say that you’re sorry and that the thought of me rejecting you was unbearable so you just left? You know what, Y/N? Fuck you! Fuck you and your shitty apology, I don’t need this bullshit! I’m better without you, now I can fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. Without having to worry about their incapacity of having a relationship because of their stupid and childish commitment issues” He stood up and left

And now, by the irony of fate, I’m the one who gets abandoned now.

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

I got his message that day in the park, he doesn’t want to talk to me, so I do exactly that. I leave him alone. I never met him at random places anymore after that day.

It has been a month since I came back and any hope I had of settling things with Seth went down the drain.

I’m finishing zipping up my duffel bag when someone knocked on the locker room door

“Yeah? It’s open” I screamed

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

My heart stopped when I heard Seth’s voice

“Hi, umm sure. What’s up?” I ask

Seth closed the door behind him

“Can we sit down?” He points to the small leather couch

I nodded, sitting down by his side

“I wanted to apologize to you” He started “The things I said to you that day at the park were unnecessary, I should’ve dealt with it in a better way”

“It’s ok, Seth. We both know I deserved” I weakly smile at him

“No, you didn’t! Even though I was confused and hurt, I didn’t had the right to do that to you. I truly am sorry”

“It’s ok, buddy. Apology accepted” I patted his knee and he holds my hand there

“I’m going to ask you something, but I need you to be completely honest with me, ok?”

“Of course”

“Do you still love me?” He asked and my whole world stopped

I looked down to my feet and honestly answered “I never stopped loving you, Rollins. No matter how hard I tried”

His only response to me was a cheerful grin.

1 YEAR LATER - PRESENT DAY

“What are you doing staring out the window, baby? It’s fucking freezing! Come back to bed” Seth’s arms circle around my waist, trying to pull me back to bed

“I’m enjoying the snowy morning view” I chuckled

“Meh” He scoff “I have something more interesting for you to enjoy if you come back to bed with me” Seth smirked

“What possibly could be nicer than this view”

“Hmmm, I don’t know...maybe something thick and warm that slides in and out of you, maybe?” He bites my neck and I can’t help the little moan that escaped my lips

“That sounds fun” I grab him through his boxers, teasing him

Seth moans “Oh you’re gonna regret that”

He picked me up in his arms right before tossing me back onto his bed....

Please if you’re comfortable with it let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[whichpercydoyouthink]

I love watching queer, LGBT+ movies and shows, especially as more and more well-thought-out, complex stories are released. Generally, I love to write about movies I love. Movies that make me want to recommend them to everyone I know. Movies that rip my heart out and then make me thank them for doing so. Movies that make me smile or sob uncontrollably.

This was not one of those movies. I have complicated feelings about it therefore I shall vomit it all here for any passer-by to glance at.

Lost to Shame (2016).

I went into this thinking it might be something like Method which I have also written about. It... wasn’t? Honestly, I haven’t tried to compare the two too much because I don’t want to compare them.

The story: young actor, Oh Song Joon auditions for the role of Judy in Dark Life, a play about the pain of being a transwoman. In preparation for this role, Oh Song Joon studies the struggles of the trans community and meets Kang Yi Na who helps him understand her world. With the help of Yi Na and his dancer brother Oh Song Hyuk, Song Joon gets the role and things seem to be looking up for him until one day he finds out something about his brother and his best friend that has him questioning things he thought he knew about himself. Sometimes, we don’t even realise we are pretending until that pretence is tested and our fear reveals our true self.

Before I get into the negative, I just want to say how much I loved Kang Yi Na. She is a beautiful character and I loved seeing how confident she was as herself, how she had a loving community, and how strong of a character she was. She isn’t made out to be weak or a pity project for the main character. I also respect her for not standing any of Song Joon’s bullshit when he reveals his hypocrisy and for cutting him off completely when he a hundred percent deserves it. She doesn’t make any excuses for him just because he’s her friend and she doesn’t allow him to maintain his double standards in staying friends with her but rejecting his brother and his friend.

Which leads me to the main problem of this movie: Oh Song Joon. I’m not going to write an entire essay about how I hate his character and all the things he did wrong. I understand that the story is about revealing his hypocrisy and the struggle between what you thought you knew and your true fears that are forced out into the open. That being said, I do not enjoy watching straight homophobic main characters beating up decent LGBT+ characters just because their feelings are hurt, and then not even apologising properly or showing remorse. If they keep secrets from you then maybe there’s a reason and reacting in a toxic and cruel way only justifies their fear of telling you.

Another thing is that I did not enjoy the ending of this movie. Song Joon fails to reconcile with his brother who says he’ll die in the military because of what he’s done. Song Joon apologies to his co-workers but in a way that to me felt forced and self-satisfying. He plays the role of Judy for the last showing of the play and sees, Sung Wu Jae, the friend he beat up, in the crowd with a massive bruise covering half his face that Song Joon put there and he gets angry, asking what he did wrong in a way that blends his pain with that of Judy’s. But they are not the same. Not at all. Which frustrates me because it feels like he is victimising himself and then he cuts the blade into his wrist claiming he should die. Am I supposed to feel sorry for him? Am I supposed to worry about whether he will actually die or not? All I was concerned with in that scene is Wu Jae watching this all and what he thought. Why had he gone to see the man who had beat him up and then not even bothered to apologise? Was he supposed to see how much pain Song Joon was in and forgive him? How when the man hadn’t done anything to resolve anything? He’d never tried to talk to him or truly understood.

Maybe I misunderstood the ending of the movie or whatever the director’s intentions were but I was very dissatisfied and felt that the characters of the brother and the friend deserved better. So much better. And in the end Oh Song Joon is just a weak hypocritical character. The emotions of this movie... they don’t feel powerful or touching to me because we see everything from the eyes of the self-victimizing, straight cis male main character. He loses everything and learns nothing. It just feels like a hopeless movie that I found hard to see the beauty in. But that’s just my perspective.

Maybe someone else can enjoy it.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Blind (Sam Wilson x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You had to attend one of Sharon’s parties in Madripoor. Which left you no choice but to wear one of her dresses. The one she suggested for you made you incredibly uncomfortable. After all, you were not really happy with the way you looked.

Words: 2,681

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insecurities, self-esteem issues, struggles with body image, if one of these warnings trigger you please DO NOT read!, take care of yourself <3 you are so damn beautiful!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated! ❤

“(Y/N)? Can you come over real quick?” you heard Sharon yell from the other room. Following her voice, you entered her bedroom where she was waiting for you.

“What’d you need?” your head tilted to one side. The others were getting ready for the party & you still hoped you could somehow avoid your attendance. Being surrounded by tons of drunk people was not necessarily your favorite activity.

“Found a dress for you.” she pointed to her closet where a beautiful gown was hung up. The colors were not too bright, subtle enough to blend in but still stand out. It was short enough to gain others’ attention but not too short to be mistaken for a cheap chick. Long story shot: it was gorgeous. And that was where the problem began. While the dress itself looked fantastic, you knew that you would not live up to it.

“No.” was all you said. Sharon’s eyebrows perked up.

“No? What do you mean “No.”? You don’t like it?” she was confused because she could imagine you looking flawless while wearing this dress. Yes, she was aware that you were not the biggest fan of getting all dolled up. But then again, the few times she had seen you do that, you were owning everything & anything.

“It’s pretty.” you smiled a little. “Just, not my cup of tea, I guess.” you shrugged, trying to hide the fact that you were lying to her face right now.

“Bullshit.” she scoffed. “I chose this one because I knew you’d love it. I know you better than that, (Y/N).” she eyed you up & down. Sighing loudly, you took a seat on her bed & put your head in your hands in frustration.

“Do I have to attend?” you muttered, silently hoping she would let you ditch the party.

“Please tell me you’re not being serious…” Sharon crossed her arms over her chest, body facing yours as you still somewhat hid yourself.

“What’d you need me for anyway?” you threw your hands up in confusion. “Like, you got Bucky, Zemo. Hell, you got Sam. You won’t need me.”

“Hmm.” she hummed as she observed you more closely now.

“What now?” you questioned exaggeratedly. Standing up, you approached the dress & brushed one of your hands over the material gently.

“I see where the shoe pinches.” Sharon stated & you turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah? Where? ‘Cause I don’t know myself.” you bickered. Why could she not just cut to the chase?

“This is about Sam, isn’t it?” she asked casually & you almost choked on your own spit. Coughing to cover it up, you straightened your back to regain your composure.

“What has a stupid dress to do with Sam?” a dumbfounded expression made its way onto your face. Sharon shook her head & chuckled at your obliviousness.

“You still haven’t told him, huh?” her eyes locked with yours & you hated how your heart skipped a beat just because she called you out on that.

“Haven’t told him what?” you decided to play dumb for a while longer. Sharon rolled her eyes at you & sighed out loudly.

“That you’re in love with him.” she made it sound like a straight up fact. Your eyes focused on your shoes, not being able to face the woman in front of you any longer.

“Love is a pretty strong word.” you chuckled awkwardly. “Besides, a minute ago we were talking about the dress you picked out for me.”

“So you’ll wear the dress?” she smirked at you enthusiastically.

“Really? Did you just say that to get me to agree on that?” your finger pointed to the robe. The only response you got was a simple shrug. Sharon then turned around & left you alone. Alright, message received. You had to start fixing up your appearance. Though you were not sure if your efforts were even worth it. No matter what, you were sure you would feel insecure the moment you put on that dress.

When the struggles with your body started? Well, you could not exactly remember a time when it was not there. Maybe it was because you had always been surrounded by people much prettier than you. More popular than you. More liked than you. Only when you became a part of the Avengers did those feelings disappear a little. As a superhero, nobody cared about your look as long as your abilities were good enough to save the world. Your team did not know about any of this, of course. After all, it was your own mind who played tricks on you. No one but yourself could be blamed. So when you looked in the mirror & saw yourself wearing that beautiful dress? It was not beautiful anymore. Not on you. Not when you were the one who showed it to the world. Or to the people in Madripoor. You knew you should not care about other people’s opinions. But you were your own worst enemy. And your mind told you the exact same things that the others thought. The only thing you noticed was how wrong it all looked. How your body was not good enough. Not for yourself & not for anyone else. And definitely not for Sam. Not that you were into him or anything. Even if you were, he was literally the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. He could have anyone. So why would he settle for someone like you? He deserved so, so much more. So much better.

“(Y/N)?” someone’s knocking brought you back to reality. “Can I come in? It’s Sam.” oh no. Would he laugh at you when he saw you like that? Possibly.

“Um…Just-Just a second.” you yelled & searched through Sharon’s closet in hopes to find some sort of coat to cover yourself up as much as possible. Jogging over to the door, you shakingly raised a hand to the doorknob, twisted it to one side, & opened it with a tiny creak. Peeking out, you found Sam in a black turtleneck. And damn, he was hot. Unfortunately, you were not successful in finding a jacket so you were left in the dress only. Hence why you only opened the door a crack.

“You gonna let me in or…?” Sam teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

“S-Sure, sorry.” pushing the door further open, you turned around right away, too scared to watch his reaction.

“You look gorgeous.” his comment made you stop in your tracks. Sure he was lying. It was simply something you said to co-workers when missions like that were on the agenda. Spinning around, your eyes met his, the smirk replaced by a sheepish smile. Almost like he was uncomfortable talking to you. Of course he was. After all, he just lied to you about your look. But it was nothing new. You were used to it by now. Shaking off the bad thoughts internally, you coughed quickly & continued your conversation.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Wilson.” you winked & were surprised by how well you actually handled this situation.

“Sharon said she picked out a dress for you. Said you weren’t really feelin’ it.” he stated & you raised your eyebrows. God, Sharon could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

“Uh-huh.” you hummed, hoping Sam would drop this topic. But he did not.

“I’d say you slay it.” he came a little closer but stopped when he noticed you taking a step back.

“You’d be the only one.” you mumbled to yourself. It was too quiet for him to understand you which was why he spoke up again.

“What was that?” one of his eyebrows raised but you brushed him off with a wave of your hand.

“Nothing…” you said monotonously. Clearing your throat, you directed the conversation to the upcoming party. “You guys ready?”

“Um.” Sam shot you a curious look but you ignored it. “Yeah, we can head there now.”

“Good, I’ll come in a second.” your back faced him.

“You okay?” something was off about your behavior & Sam could not tell what it was. It was uncommon to see you so shy & uncertain. Usually, whenever you were on missions, you were a badass, not letting anyone tell you what to do. Now, though? It was like a different person was standing in front of him. Someone who was incredibly uncomfortable. Trembling hands you desperately tried to hide by hugging yourself. Failing to keep eye contact. Voice cracking when you talked to him. Something was wrong. And he knew he should let you be for now. Seemed like you needed time to yourself. So he exited the room without another word.

Loud music, people shamelessly grinding on each other without a care in this world. Alcohol, you figured. Alcohol did that to people. Sharon was next to you, in a corner where nobody else decided to head off to. After all, the dancefloor was the main attraction. Your insecurities were acting up. Constantly pulling down your dress to avoid showing too much of your thighs. Sharon noticed but did not comment on it. Your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding your upper body inside the gown. Whatever you were doing, you wanted to hide. Unfortunately, a coat did not go well with your outfit. So that left you with basically no material to cover up. The woman next to you excused herself when she detected a familiar person in the crowd. Nodding at her, you took the chance & made it out of the party only a second later. Heading outside where the cool breeze grounded you a bit. You hated yourself so much right now. You hated your body. You hated your dress. You hated Sharon for choosing an outfit for you. You hated the loud voices in your head that told you that you were not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not lovable. Your appearance was by no means pleasing. You knew that. And this stupid dress underlined every insecurity you had.

A coat was put over your shoulders & you could not help but flinch.

“You’re shaking.” it was Sam who found you out here. Immediately, you calmed down when you noticed that it was only him. The comfort of his jacket brought you warmth. And it gave you an opportunity to hide more of your skin. Win-win situation. Leaning against the cold brick wall, Sam joined you a moment later. Your face did not meet his, though. Wilson would notice something being wrong with you. He knew you too well.

“I’ll head back inside in a minute.” you assured him but he had none of it.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Sam’s head turned in your direction but you kept your gaze straight forward.

“I’m fine.” it came our harsher than you meant. Closing your eyes, you sighed because Sam did not deserve your rudeness at all.

“Sure thing. And I enjoyed Smiling Tiger’s favorite drink.” he replied sarcastically & managed to lift the corners of your mouth a little. “Talk to me.”

“I’m just being stupid.” shaking your head, you scoffed at yourself. Usually, you were better at hiding such things.

“It ain’t stupid if it bothers you that much.” Sam pointed out. Your head turned to face him & you had a hard time finding the right words.

“Just…” your hands gestured wildly but ended up at the hem of the material hanging by your thighs.

“The dress?” he asked & you nodded. “What about it?”

“Ugh.” you threw your head back. “See, I’m being stupid.” his hand grabbed your wrist gently when you wanted to head back inside.

“No, wait.” his voice was softer than before. “What’s up with the dress? It looks great to me.”

“It is. Great, I mean. Just not on me.” your rambling could not be stopped & before you knew it, you were spilling the beans to Sam. He was taken aback by your declaration.

“Wait…Is this the problem here?” he gestured to your figure & it took everything in you not to break eye contact. “(Y/N), you’re absolutely stunning in that dress.” there was sincerity behind his words but you could not hear it right now. Hugging his jacket a little closer, you hoped Sam would stop staring at your body so intensely.

“Could you stop? Please.” he almost did not hear it but the night in Madripoor was calm. All that could be heard was the muffled beat from the party.

“Who the hell made you think like that?” Sam started growing angry. Not at you but at whoever managed to plant these thoughts into your head. Shrugging, you averted your gaze from him.

“I mean…it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? Look at all those beautiful people, Sam. I could never compare to them. Never. My body…i-it looks awful, I know that. That’s exactly why I never wear shit like that.” you pointed to your dress, scoffing lowly. “I wish I didn’t look like that. I wish I-“ Sam, being done with whatever you were saying, interrupted you.

“Listen, this is what you’re not gonna do.” he stopped briefly to gain your attention. Only when you looked at him again did he continue. “I don’t know why you see yourself in such a bad light. I don’t know because to me, you’re the most beautiful woman in this damn universe. And it hurts when you talk so bad about yourself. This…” he stepped closer, resting both of his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly. “This is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you or your body. What can I do to help you see yourself the way I see you?” the last words were whispered. Your eyes widened at Sam’s confession. Sure he was drunk. Why would he tell you all of that?

“Stop that.” you tried pulling away from him but he would not let you. No, he only hugged you closer to his body so your chests were pressing against each other. “Sam, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” he wasted no time with his response. “When I saw you earlier today in that dress? Damn, I didn’t even know what to say.” he chuckled to himself at the memory & you could not hide the small smile spreading on your face. That was the point where he knew he had you. “But, you know, duties. Couldn’t skip this party. But I wouldn’t have minded skipping it.” Sam winked at you.

“I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t know if I can trust you. Not when it comes to this.” you were completely vulnerable in front of him. Sam then realized that words were not going to change your way of thinking. And he could not change your way of thinking in one night. What he could do, though, was making you feel gorgeous. With simple actions, compliments, looks. And he made it his job to succeed with all of that. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your soft skin delicately. He was slow with his movements, giving you enough time to lean back if you did not want this. But you wanted this. And the look in your eyes was enough confirmation for him to press his lips against your own. The kiss was not what you expected it to be. You always thought that the first kiss you two shared would be passionate or heated. But this one? This one was filled with so much gentleness, so much emotion, so much admiration that had you weak at the knees. Sam smiled into the kiss when he realized you melting into his touch. To him, you really were someone special. To him, you were the only person he focused on in a crowd. You were it for him. Now, he just had to convince you that he was the one for you, too. But it was a challenge he gladly accepted. If it meant that he got to have you, he would do anything.

Published (04/18/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @bibliophilewednesday, @wanniiieeee (thanks for your support <3)

[devinescribe]

Promises We Made

This is the first chapter of my Niragi book over on wattpad, so I just wanted to post it over here.

Next Chapter

Warnings: Swearing, abuse, bullying

I think that's it, but let me know. Sorry this chapter took so long my lovely readers!(again, it was over on my wattpad)

Promise 1

"Promise 1, we promise to always protect each other."

"Stop being such a bitch, and go say hi. Sorry about that, kids huh?" Your father threatened, laughing with the parents. "Oh, I know. Our little boy is so antisocial. And at 15... so disappointing!" The lady had said. Your father had invited your neighbors over, as they had just moved in. They had a boy your age, who stood straight, not looking anyone directly in the eyes. He had black hair, and black rectangle frame glasses that were seated on his nose. "Father, would it be alright if Suguru-San and I go talk outside?" You asked your father. He looked annoyed. "Don't talk to me. You're being so rude, interrupting me," he scolded. "And don't give my son such respect. He deserves none of it," the boy's father snapped. You flinched at his tone. "Ye-yes sirs. S-suguru, would you like to come outside with me?" You asked the boy. He nodded curtly, and you two walked outside.

You let out the breath you'd been holding, leaning against the wall. "I-i apologize for my mother and father... they really have no filter," he apologized, bowing towards you. "It's fine... Are you going to my school when it starts?" You asked. He nodded. "You're not to talkative are you Suguru?" You mentioned. "Not really... I've just never been forced to socialize," he said, looking out to the street. You thought for a moment, before deciding on what to do. "Want to come up to my favorite place?" You asked. He nodded slowly, not knowing where you were taking him. You told him to follow you and you led him through the back door of your house, up to the second story. "Where are you taking me?" He asked, fidgeting with his sleeves. "My favorite place. Aka, my room," you said, going down to the end of the hallway. His eyes widened, and he quickly followed, not wanting to get lost in your house. You pulled down a rope that was connected to the roof, and down came a ladder. "Isn't that the attic?" He questioned, looking up to the dark room. "Yep. It's my room," you said, starting to climb up the stairs. He followed after, looking straight instead of up. 'Don't look she's wearing a skirt, don't look she's wearing a skirt.' Ran through his head the whole time.

You flipped the switch on the wall, the room filling with warm light. You went over to what looked like a giant window, grabbing the doorknobs on either side. They opened like an accordion, the slight breeze of a summer night wafting into the room. "I've always loved that about my room... I have this balcony," you sighed, leaning your arms on the white railing. He went out there with you, and you two spend the night talking.

When school eventually started, you noticed the bullies had taken an interest in him. And the bad kind of interest. You helped as best as you could, but that made you a target as well.

"Stop squirming you little bitch," one of the guys spat, trying to hold your arms down. "Fuck you!" You shouted, kicking him in the stomach. He doubled over, and the rest of his goons tried to get you. "Get off of me damn it!" You screamed, kicking and squirming, trying to get their grip off of you. Their hands were everywhere on you, and you couldn't get out. "You're a little slut aren't you?" The guy laughed, he walked over, wiping the blood from his lip. 'Damn, I made him cough up blood? I'm badass' you thought, before getting back to the situation at hand. He got even closer, putting a hand on your throat. Your eyes widened as he began to squeeze. "L-let me go you son of a bitch," you managed to stutter out, trying to kick out. You could feel the grip on your neck get tighter. 'That's sure to leave a mark. We need to find a way to get out of this...' You tried bitting his arm, or thrashing to get away from them. Of course, there was no camera in the corner they had you in, just your luck. You could feel your skin hit the cold wall behind you, the skirt from your school uniform riding up as you thrashed and squirmed. Black spots started to enter your vision, and you shook your head. 'I will not be brought down by this motherfucker, if I-' Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice shouting, "Hey, let her go!" You winced, the squeezing on your throat getting painful, and your lungs were screaming for air. You felt pain, and pain only at this point. "Oi, dumbass, don't get yourself brought into this!" You tried to shout back, it coming out as more of a gasp, seeing your next door neighbor. You were trying to gasp for air, any tiny bit of oxygen would help. You would never know what happened, as your vision started to grow dark from the lack of air.

"Please wake up, please please please," he whispered to more himself than you. You were unconscious, bruises already forming on your body, especially on your neck. He wiped away the blood on his lip, wincing a bit at the pain. He was just glad you were still breathing. He heard you whine, and turned his head to you. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning at the sudden light. You sat up, wincing in pain. He rushed to help you. "Don't move so suddenly, you'll hurt yourself!" He scolded. You shoved him off of your body. "D-dont! I-i-i... I'm such a burden... can't even take care of myself," you muttered to yourself. He heard. "You're not. Everyone needs help once in a while," he said, sitting next to you. You looked at him, noticing the blood. "N-niragi! You're bleeding!" You exclaimed, putting your hands on his shoulders. He held his breath, looking into your eyes. They held sympathy, worry, kindness. He hadn't seen eyes that held as much emotion as yours. You frowned, gently dabbing his lip with the sleeve of your school blazer. "But it'll get dirty, and we-" he started, trying to pull away. "Who gives a damn about a piece of fabric? Let me help you," you stated, grabbing his face, making him look at you. His dark eyes widened behind his glasses, and he froze as you cleaned up the blood.

You two walked to your houses after, not saying a word. You stayed close by eachother, not wanting to get separated. "Niragi... let's make a promise," you said when you got closer to your houses. You both stopped walking. "What kind of promise?" He asked. "I promise to always protect you as you protect me," you smiled, holding out your pinkie to him. He smiled back. ''We promise to always protect eachother," he said, grabbing your pinkie with his.

Promise 2

"Promise 2, we promise to always tell each other the truth."

School had started as normal. You went over to the desk you shared with Niragi, sitting in your seat. He had gone off before class to go look for something, or so he said. You sat in your seat, tapping your fingers on the desk. You saw the group of boys that spent their time torturing both of you walk in, high fiving each other and laughing. You finally saw him come in, and your eyes were drawn to the bruises on him. The teacher was first to notice.

"Why, what happened to you? You're all covered in bruises!" She exclaimed. Niragi saw the dangerous glares the boys sent him and looked down. "F-fell down the stairs, Miss..." he lied, bowing towards the teacher. "I-i apologize." He quickly made his way to the seat next to you, not looking at you or anything. The bell rang, and the teacher began the lesson.

Soon, lunch time rolled around. You two had gone to the park next to the school to eat. You sat down, and gave him the bento box you had made for him. "I told you I'd make you lunch today," you smiled. You knew his mother didn't make him lunch, or give him money for lunch. So, once you found out, you wanted to bring him lunch. "T-thank you (Y/N), you really didn't have to," he thanked, staring down at the box. It was a simple one, black with 3 green lines going vertically. "I didn't know what bento box to use, so I used that one... I hope you don't mind it," you said. He smiled, assuring you it was fine. You both opened them, thanking for the food. You grabbed the chopsticks, and began to eat. "Oh, and where did you really get those bruises?" You asked after you had a couple bites of your food. "I already told you, I fell down the stairs," he lied. He felt bad about lying to you, but he didn't want to worry you. "Bullshit. I know you're lying. Tell me," you said, annoyed. Silence filled the air for a bit. "Fine... those guys... again," he muttered. You frowned. "Niragi... You can tell me about that stuff. You dont have to lie to me. Let's make another promise. I promise to always tell you the truth, as you tell me," you stated, holding your pinkie out as you had before. He had a feeling there would be more promises in the future, but put out his pinkie, linking it with yours. "Ok... but I'm going to start counting these. Promise 2, we promise to always tell each other the truth."

Promise 3

"Promise 3, we promise to keep each other warm." (I actually made that promise with my best guy friend, but he lives in Japan, so... we suffer)

It was another weekend where your father had invited Niragi's family over. They sent you two up to your room. "And, Niragi?" His father called from behind you. You both turned to face him, confused as they never wanted to keep you around more than they had to. "If you're going to do anything, at least bruise her up a bit," he laughed. Your father and his mother joined in with the laughter. You whimpered quietly, hiding behind him. You were extremely confident and outspoken at school and with Niragi. At home, it was a different story. "Aww, look! She's already so submissive to you!" His mother cooed, making a gesture as if you were a dog. You grabbed onto the sleeve of his hoodie, closing your eyes. They started talking about how you two were so obviously in love. And then they started talking about how with how smart you both were, his mother saying you were a beautiful young girl, and your father saying something about Niragi's looks as well, how your kids would be so amazing. Your eyes widened at that. Did they plan this? Niragi didn't like what they were saying. It was gross. You two were only 15, why would they say those kinds of things? "W-we'll be going, then," Niragi excused, leading you away from them. They made more comment about the same topic, making him shudder. Once you two got to the attic entrance, away from ear shot, was when he checked on you.

"Are you ok?" He asked, letting you go up the ladder first. You gave back a soft 'yeah' as you reached your room. He knew that it had bothered you, what they had said. But, if you didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't push. He got up into your room, and pulled the ladder up. He pushed up his glasses, and turned to you. You were standing by the double window doors, looking out to the night sky. "You want to go out there?" He asked. "F-father... he said I shouldn't go out there, because he would lock me out as a punishment if he caught me asleep out there again," you explained, playing with the curtains. Niragi huffed. Your father was so horrible to you. "A punishment for what?" He asked, scared of the answer. "... Anything... The other day, h-he asked if I was still 'pure', and when I told him yes, he got mad. I don't know why, I don't know if he was drunk or what happened, but he's been so curious about if I still have my virginity or not," you responded. "Why would he get mad about that? I-is there something we don't know?" He asked, walking over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged. "If he locks us out, I promise I'll keep you warm," Niragi stated, opening the doors. He turned back to you, leading you out to the balcony. He grabbed your pinkie with his own. "I promise to always keep you warm," he laughed. "Promise 3, we promise to always keep each other warm," you laughed with him.

"Promise 4, we promise to always share our snacks."

"Promise 13, after fights we promise to give eachother a reason why we love eachother." (In a platonic way at this point, anywho)

"Promise 21, we promise to watch the stars together."

"Promise 36, after fights we promise to not turn it into ammo for future fights."

"Promise 58, we promise to meet at our special place after school."

"Promise 76, we both promise to apologize for anything after a fight. If we can't decide who was originally the problem, then we both were."

"Promise 199, we promise to always stay together."

Those were some of the promises you had made throughout the years. You smiled, remembering th promises you'd made with the boy. You decided that since you had off from work, you'd go visit him. You picked up some flowers on your way, deciding it was about time.

"Hey there 'Ragi," you greeted with a smile, placing the flowers down. There was no response, as usual. You sighed, and placed the flowers down. "You know, it's only been a few months, but I really miss you," you said. You took the flowers, arranging them around. You had gotten two types of flowers. One being yellow carnations, and the other being daisies. You started weaving some of the flowers together, talking about whatever came to mind.

"You know, I'm the only one who comes to visit you. Which is sad. Because you should be remembered by more than one person, you are... were... so amazing ," you said sadly, your fingers moving slowly. "Oh, you remember that tattoo I told you about? I finally got it. It looks really good with the others," you stated with a small smile, finishing with the flowers. "I'm really sorry... I wish you weren't dead 'Ragi... I miss you," you whimpered, tears filling your eyes as you placed the flower crown on top of the grave stone.

Truth was, you knew there was no body buried in the ground. He had disappeared a few months ago, and no one could find him. There were no leads on the case, no evidence to say he was killed or kidnapped. He had literally just vanished into thin air. Instead of searching more for him, his parents decided to close the case and pronounce him dead. They didn't have a funeral for him, or anything at all, really. You were the one who begged them to at least have a grave, and they got tired of you, so they did. You didn't think he was dead. There was no evidence to prove it. But either way, no matter what you belived had happened, you had begun to accept the fact that you had lost your best friend. Weather it be that he died, disappeared, or any other conclusion. So you brought him new flowers every day you had off if work, made him the flower crowns, and every week, you would watch the stars next to the grave, pretending he was next to you, still smiling and ranting about work, or a game he played. Or maybe it was a code that was hard to program into the game. At the time, you had laughed and listened, calling him a nerd for being so smart. But you really missed it. Even if you didn't understand what he was talking about, you still enjoyed the time you two got to spend together. The late nights watching movies, playing games, or just talking. The early mornings getting coffee and heading off to work. You missed it all so much. It was so true what they say, you don't miss something until you lose it. Because now you realized how much he honestly helped your mind cope with so many things. "I heard- I heard it w-was going to be chilly tonight, s-so I brought you a-a blanket... remember promise 3?" You said, tears flowing down your cheeks. You leaned your head against his grave stone, the tears that fell from your face fell to flower petals that bent slightly. "I-i hope you're o-ok... Wherever you are," you whispered. Suddenly, you heard fireworks in the distance. You saw them, and stared in confusion. A few minutes after, you no longer heard the rush of cars, or the voices that talked quietly in the cemetery. You stood in confusion, looking around, wiping your tears and sniffling a bit. "Wasn't there just someone there?" You asked out loud to yourself. "I'm sorry Gigi, gotta go. I'm going to find out what's happening," you excused yourself from the gravestone. You laughed a bit, remembering how he said he hated the nickname. You ran towards the street, seeing the cars unmoving. There was no people that you could see, and all buildings were empty. "What the hell?" You muttered to yourself.

It was almost sun down, so you travelled through the streets, finding out that everyone in Tokyo had disappeared. There was no power, and your cellphone, that had been at a hundred percent, was now dead. Sure, it was creepy, but it was somehow peaceful. "If everyone's gone, that means my father too! I'll wait for tomorrow to go over to the house and see if I can find anything he kept away from me," you decided, remembering all the photos of your mother he had stashed away in a box.

Nightfall came, and you sat at a cross walk. There was no wind, and no lights, so you could see the stars. Suddenly, a screen lit up. "Game arena?" You questioned out loud, reading the screen. You decided you might as well follow where it was pointing you to.

The place was an old zoo. One that you recognized had been closed for years, as you had faint memories of your mother taking you here when you were younger. The lights were on, and you looked at it suspiciously. It shouldn't have power. Nowhere in Tokyo had had power, and this place has been closed for years. You entered through the large gateway in the front, and noticed red lines as you did. You looked around, and found a stick. You threw it back the way you had come, and it was immediately shot by lasers. "What the actual fuck," you whispered, walking into the so called game arena. Inside there was a table with phones, and a sign that simply said 'one for each person.' You picked one up, and it light up with face recognition.

You were so involved with the phone, you didn't notice people walking in. Once you did though, you immediately lowered your eyes. They were all guys. You didn't trust men. Well, except Niragi. But he was also your best friend of 8 years, and even then you had your doubts.

"Registration closed. Game: Little Red Ridding Hood. Game Difficulty: 4 of Spades.''

"Rules: One person will be little red ridding hood. The rest will be wolves. The objective for the wolves is to kill Little Red. Little Red's objective is to kill all wolves but one, and make it to the safe zone before time runs out. The one wolf remaining was chosen by little red, meaning they will survive. If time runs out, and neither one of these objectives has been completed, death for both sides. You may use any outside weapons or the weapons provided. Special Condition: Little Red gets an extra 5 minutes to go hide. Anyone who chases after them before the 5 minutes are up will die. Time limit: 1 hour. Game Start in 5 minutes.''

"I don't mean to sound stupid, but what the fuck is all of this?" You asked looking at the men around you. "It's a game," a voice said. You looked around to where it came from. "A game?" You repeated. "Yes, a game. You play for your life. Let's see who's a wolf, and who's little red, shall we?" He said, walking out from the corner he had hidden in. He had white hair, and a condescending look on his face. You checked the phone again.

'Little Red: Player 11037.'

A picture of you came up, and you looked around. Most of the guys smirked at you. You headed towards the table with weapons, grabbing a small dagger. You saw there was a bow with a quiver of arrows, and grabbed it quickly, strapping it on to you. "Well, I'm either going to Katniss Everdeen this shit, or die. Let's see... so basically, this is a game of physical endurance from what it seems. We have to run after or away from eachother. We each have an objective we must complete or it results in death. Am I right?" You said, turning to the white haired boy. He stared back, an eyebrow raised. "You sure it's your first day here?" He asked. "I catch on pretty quick. I would hate to be the girl that starts crying and shaking. Pathetic," you said. Was it bad that to survive you either had to kill or get killed? Yes. But were you about to risk your life for people you didn't know? No way in hell. "I only have to keep one wolf alive for my objective. So impress me, and maybe you'll survive," you said, stretching. "Quite cocky, aren't you?" One of the men said, stepping closely to you. His hands went around you, pressing you into him. "I can change that," he whispered into your ear. You elbowed him harshly, making him double over in pain. "I don't plan on losing to a bunch of men who think they can do shit like that and for me to sit there and take it. Goodluck to you, you condescending yet interesting man," you said with a smile towards the white haired boy. "Yeah, no. No nicknames. Chishiya, call me Chishiya," he introduced. You laughed. "Nice to meet you Chishiya. Call me whatever you want. I'll tell you my name after the game... if we survive of course," you said.

"Little Red Ridding hood headstart starts in

3

2

1"

Sorry this took so long, I'm really trying here-

But is your best friend dead? Will you survive this game? I don't know haven't decided yet-

I'm joking, it's all jokes...

....

.....

Or is it?

[misskittysmagicportal]

I’m A Creep

Fandom: The Messenger Jack x Rin Davies

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: suicide discussion, oral sex, penetration, mention of masturbation, angsty whomp because OOOOF is Jack a Whomp!character

Note: The events of this fic contain spoilers for those of you who havent seen The Messenger.  It takes place after the end of the movie.  Read at your own risk if you haven’t seen it!  If you want it’s free on Tubi :)

Present Day:

Jack stood beside Rin in the dead of night watching her sleep for just a moment. Only a moment because she roused the instant she sensed him breathe. Sitting up, she quickly reached inside the nightstand. He knew her routine, Rin was impulsive about making sure her leather motorcycle gloves were on before she let him in.

Jack wordlessly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his sweatpants and boxers. 

Rin lifted her covers and opened her legs to him. Obliging, Jack lowered himself onto her showering her neck with kisses. His tongue and lips trailing down along her collarbone, erection hard against her thigh. A hand found its way under Rin’s t-shirt and over a naked breast where he pinched at a nipple. 

“Jack,” she was breathless. “Stop. Don't touch my skin, please.”

Jack pushed himself up by the arms, “How is this enjoyable to you, duck?” A northern term of endearment. “My thighs ah touchin’ you aren't they?” The moonlight caught his eyes as he teased her with the head of his cock. “What about this, inside you?” Suggestively whispered. 

Rin moaned but held her cool. “It’s not the same. Like you said, that's inside. It's just my.. skin. From my..” her voice trailed off. 

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckkin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed her. Tongue pushing inside of Rin, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered, just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me”

--------

Several Weeks Before:

Rin sat alone at a center table in the middle of the visitation room.  This wasn’t her first rodeo, probably won’t be her last.  She flexed her hands outwards the leather of her gloves cracking and flexing in a satisfying manner.  No one was going to come and see her. Besides, the solitude allowed her to quietly spy on all the other nutters around the room.

Just to her left Rin noticed a pretty redheaded woman and her son as they sat across from probably the most attractive guy ever in an institution.  There was a tenseness to the way he sat, shoulders hunched and hands between his legs.  His hair unruly and a blank stare that wasn’t really focusing on- she came to realize-  his sister and nephew.  Rin knew him from group therapy where he was equally quiet, eyes glassy from a psych med cocktail.  The majority of his speaking hours tucked away in that overbearing therapist’s office.  

“Jack, will you please just look at me?” his sister, Emma tried her best to reach out to her brother. “I.. I think Martin and I made a mistake.” 

Jack only stared straight ahead between Emma and his nephew, Billy. The preteen looked uncomfortable and scared as his mother nudged him softly. “It's ok. Billy tell Uncle Jack.” 

“I did, Mom” , his voice quiet. “I'm supposed to say no. That you should get me help before it's too late.”  Rin watched as Billy folded his arms and laid his head down. “Only I can't. It's all night and day, Jack. I can't sleep because they don't have you.” 

“Best leave him here with me then, Emma.” It was the first time anyone heard Jack speak in weeks. His sister had a posh accent, so Rin was surprised when Yorkshire dripped from his lips. “For good, right?” 

“That's not fair. You are sick, Jack.  You weren't caring for yourself. You.. you got too involved with that murder. You were hurting yourself,” Emma struggled with tears. “I want to take you home.”

“Oh like I'm some kind of fookin dog? Emma you and Martin made it clear I belong here. She's right, maybe it was all dad. That's traumatic you know.” 

“You deserve someplace warm! A home. Please, Jack. I found this in your things.” She slid a newspaper clipping towards her brother. “That's the boy who drowned. Why.. why didn't you tell me?” 

“Loads of kids drown in pools,” Jack stated bluntly with a shrug. “Why should your pool be any different?” 

“I never said it was our pool.” 

“I recognized the address in the article”

“Jack, it's from two years ago.” 

“I got lucky. Ah we doon here? I have walls to stare at. Here Billy you can have this back,” from between his knees he produced a glass paperweight with a scorpion inside. “Tell all ya mates Crazy Uncle Jack sends his loov” 

Jack tried to stand but Emma grabbed his arm. This was Rin’s cue to swoop in. She swiftly moved from her table to theirs. 

“JACKIE!’ I've been looking for you everywhere!” His eyes panicking in her direction. “I'm Wren,” she took her glove off and reached a scarred hand in Emma's direction. “But my brother couldn't say it so you can call me Rin” She smiled brightly. 

Emma tentatively shook Rin’s hand, smiling in turn.  Rin took a moment as her mind’s eye zoned in on what was inside of Jack’s sister.  It was a loneliness, a desperation to take care of her little brother but protect her son from the same fate.  But most importantly Rin felt a small tingling of warmth from somewhere deep inside of Emma’s heart.  It was white and pure and instantly recognizable as hope.  Even though it was tiny it was growing and starting to spread, and Rin knew Emma was eager to share that with her brother.

“Wow,” Rin blurted, “I wish my brother was as invested in me as you are.  You’re a good person, Emma.  Trust me,” she winked.  “Woman’s intuition.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and studied the crazed looking woman standing between her and Jack.  The scars on Rin’s hand raised some alarms, but Emma ignored them.  She omitted a relief and let go, “Well thank you.  Can you talk some sense into my brother?”

Moments later, with the visitors gone, Rin sat down in Emma’s place.  “Thank you is a start,” she teased Jack. 

He rolled his eyes and slowly turned in her direction to face her dead on.  The intensity of his eyes took Rin by surprise.  “Thank you,” the sarcasm poured like a waterfall.

Rin took off her other glove.  “Now, Mr-”

“Jack is fine.”

“Jack.  Tell me,” Rin feigned a German accent, “Und why do zey sink you are crazy.”   

He blinked slowly.

“You got sectioned.  What bullshit excuse did they force you to believe?  Because it seems like Lovely Emma is desperate to get you out, and we know how hard that is.”

Jack took an impossibly deep breath, “Schizo-effective disorder with some dissociation, post traumatic stress disorder, non-suicidal self injury disorder and depression.”

“Fuck me, that's a trail mix of bonkers. Now ask me” 

Jack closed his eyes. They were shut for so long that Rin was certain he had fallen asleep having given in to his meds. His hunched, thin body sort of folded a bit in on itself. A moment of possible self-soothing when he started to sway. 

“Jack?” Rin's tone fell quietly with concern. She poke his arm carefully avoiding touching the skin. “Darling what cocktail did these quacks put you on.” She was an expert after all these years; if the drugs were working, no way would he be this much of a zombie.

Green blank eyes hidden behind enviable eyelashes attempted to focus “Seroquel. Clozapine?” His words start to slur a bit. “Fine. How fucking barmy are you?”

“Well,”  the young woman softened, “I have suicidal ideations with self-injury tendencies myself, severe clinical depression, a bit of the old borderline personality disorder and wait for it..”  she practically whispered a few inches from Jack’s face, “total emotional attachment to partners.”  

The skin around Jack’s eyes crinkled as he squinted just enough to indicate his hazed brain was trying to process everything Rin just unloaded. His lips parted to speak but he paused resulting in a gobsmacked expression.  “You’re barking.”

“Says the sexy scarecrow with journo clippings of dead boys.”  Rin pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Why are you really in here Jack.”

“I’m fucking mad.” It was matter of fact.

“To quote the Cheshire Cat, we’re all mad here, love.  Look at me,” she held her hands aloft to display gnarled and prominent scars covering both hands in their entirety.  “I developed a gift or two by primary school.  See I can touch a person, and I know what they are feeling.  Except it.. It goes deeper than that.  I can PICTURE their true selves.  It’s a bit overstimulating, but no one can lie to me.  Not really.  Doesn’t do much for my sex life.  Or lack of one really.  Honestly, you put a cock in your mouth only to find out the guy you’re with is fantasizing about slitting your throat and wanking in your blood.”

Jack shook his head, “Jesus christ.”

“Well yes! My parents were religious zealots, right?  They got wind of my gifts.  Tried to use me in the church, but I rebelled.  Long story short, darling Mumsy and Papa decided if they may be stuck my hands in boiling grease I wouldn’t be able to use it anymore.  It’s not in my hands though.  It’s in my skin,” Rin smiled almost pleasantly. “Sometimes I get a bit over the edge.  I stop shielding myself from the pure air around folks, I suffocate in it.  Then,” now she held out her wrists, “I have my little accidents.”

Jack’s mouth hung agape.  His brows furrowed in confusion, “You are off you’re fucking nut.”

“That’s all relative.  Now, you can tell me why they REALLY sectioned you.  What power or ability are they masquerading as mental illness, or I can find out my way.”  Rin shrugged. 

“Why the fuck do you care?  I’m sleeping at night.  I have food and a bed and a shower.”

“Und electro-shock zerapy, und coma inducing psychopharmaceuticals, und most importantly you has lost your voice und a chance to harness your ability correctly.”  that mock German accent again.  “You shouldn’t be here, Jack.  Emma certainly doesn’t think so, and neither do I.  You’re special.  Or that bitch shrink wouldn’t have made you the living dead.”

Jack snorted followed by a rather loud.  “Just fuck off. Fuck off.  Fuck off.  FUCK OFF!” he screamed in Rin’s face.  Not once did she flinch, arms crossed again in a challenge. Disgusted by her, Jack kept bellowing his words thick with anger and cotton from the meds, “I DON'T BELONG OUT THERE EITHER!  I DON'T BELONG IN HERE!  I DON’T FUCKING BELONG ANYWHERE. HE’S DEAD.  SHE’S DEAD.  EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF THE CUNTS IS DEAD!  DEAD DEAD DYING!  JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” 

He shot up out of the chair to leave, but Rin caught his large hand.  Skin to skin, hands so small together they barely covered just his one.  Instantly her body stiffened as she gasped for air.  Tears immediately stung her eyes as she crammed them shut.  There in her mind was just a large body of water.  Ocean waves crashed overhead as she sank far below the surface.  Dark, cold, horrifying that sensation of being drowned.  Rin choked on the last bit of oxygen in her lungs and started to suffocate.  The hand she held brought her mind’s eye around to opening under the water to see Jack floating near-motionless in front of her.  It took all of her strength to push against the tide towards him where she held his face in her hands.  Death and decay flashed above them, the dead peering down from boats just waiting for Jack to return to the surface.

Rin strained to convey that tiny bit of hope Emma had passed along to her earlier as she pressed her forehead into Jack’s in the icy deep.  There was no reason in particular that she was drawn to him.  Not in the hospital or here trying to save him from drowning slowly. Was he attractive, undoubtedly, but that wasn’t all or it. Maybe it was now that she knew he was a messenger, a harbinger of death.  That was itself a form of an empathic gift.  Or it was just compassion. 

Suddenly Jack’s eyes burst open.  In that languid way your body moves underwater, he pushed her away.  His arms and legs thrashed around in a panic as if he only just realized he was allowing this place to kill him.  There was an instant loss, and Rin’s inner self slammed into a brick wall.  The physical Jack had severed the connection between her body and his.  To resurface that suddenly forced Rin gulping in blessed oxygen that she never really lost.  It was an illusion, where the two of them had been.  He really had shoved her back though, she realized that now.  Storming out of the visitation center, Jack left Rin alone to cry.

--------

Several days later

Rin lounged against the wall outside of Jack’s room with her gloves firmly in place.  Patients weren’t SUPPOSED to fraternize outside of the common rooms, but Rin had been here a few times before.  She knew which orderlies and nurses to finess, and which to avoid.  In this case Jerry was the giant, affable St Bernard of a man that kept watch in this particular hallway.

“Wren back so soon?” he teased. “What are you doing hanging around the human handbook for the recently deceased?” 

“Delightful, Jer.  How is he?  I mean really.” Rin hooked her thumb in the direction of the room.

“Easiest patient I’ve dealt with on account of he rarely speaks, pops his meds and keeps to himself.  Gave us a bit of a row when he first got here, but I like the guy.  I don’t know what to believe though.  His sister’s been sniffing around administratives.”  The orderly shrugged his massive shoulders.  “Heard you took quite the piss on visitation day.”

“I didn’t take the piss!” 

“Did ya do your handsy thing,” Jerry made jazz hands.

Rin’s eyes almost rolled back in her head, but suddenly there was a figure in the doorway which caused her to jump.  “How about we don’t talk about the nutter like he isn’t 10 feet away and only 27 years old?” Jack insisted.  His arms crossed and shoulders sagged in their usual way.  

“Can we talk?”  

Before Jack could truly answer, Rin had already pushed past him and sat down on his bed.  His mouth hung somewhat agape before he eventually joined her.  Jack attempted to sit close, just for some human contact, but the young woman beside him shied away.

“Right,” a retort.  “You’ve started being just as bloody fucking annoying as they were.”

Startled, “Who?”

“You know those.. Schizo delusions I’m here for.”

“The dead?”

Jack’s green eyes narrowed and Rin knew there was a sarcastic remark just sitting there waiting to be released.  Instead he curled his posture as if he was trying to fold in on himself.  Make himself smaller, less noticeable.  “Dissociations sparked by my father’s suicide.”

“Psycho babble bullshit jargon.  Congratulations, you’ve become a parrot.”  Rin waved her hand, “Jack has anyone ever-.”  There was a hesitation.  

“Has anyone ever what? Go on, enlighten me then”

Rin started stripping her gloves off but thought better of it.  A sense of foreboding, of drowning and clutching her chest for hair flashed across her mind.  The loneliness emanated from Jack without her touch. That empathic conduction of her skin.  Reaching instead to place the soft leather against his cheek, her thumb brushed his bottom lip.  Her eyes searched for him in that moment where time stood still before a mouth replaced a thumb.  

To not only Rin’s surprise but his own, Jack didn’t recoil.  His body relaxed as instinct took hold. There was a fervor in hands that got tangled up in hair.  Tongues fought each other as arms made their way around bodies in an embrace.  They held one another tight, the desperation apparent.  

The spell broke when Jack laid Rin down on the bed and let his warm mouth trail down her neck. He was awkward and hungry like a teenager.  He fumbled around her chest to attempt massaging her breast. 

A snort came from Rin simply to hide the panic of rushing water when Jack’s lips came into contact with her skin.  Maybe hers found it easier to beg off that inner eye from opening, but now she didn’t have a choice.  They weren’t as deep with the surface just rippling only a few inches away.  

Before she started to lose oxygen again, Rin began to squirm.  “ Stop.  Please?”

Jack sat up and faced forward as if nothing had transpired.  His cheeks flushed and a hand tugged at his tee-shirt embarrassingly then stuffed between his legs. He blinked a few times as he breathing calmed. 

“I only came to ask you if anyone had ever shown you affection.  Held you.  Emma.. Emma”  Rin inhaled deeply as she forced Jack to hold her glove hand.  “I know she sort of longs to hug you.”  Back on his cheek to make him look at her. “Obviously I got my answer,” she laughed. 

Jack silently replied by pushing his forehead into Rin's.  They laid down again this time with their heads on his pillow legs and arms tangled up in each other. Jack nuzzled the edge of his nose into the skin behind her ear; her breath caught. Then the couple seemingly melted together.

“Jack you seem less-” fingers twisted up in his curls.

“Like a walking coma patient?” hand gripped the thick of her thigh.  Then reaching a shelf above Rin Jack seized one of those creepy glass paperweights housing a floating tarantula. Turning it over underneath to show a tiny white envelope. “I started hiding my meds. Pass them along to my sister when she visits.”

Just under the surface of the water, still struggling for air exploded before Rin's eyes. Perhaps she had passed something between Emma and Jack. Was it her own faith that was transmitted to him? That first touch that woke him up after all this time. 

The next few weeks became a game of trial and error. Of how little or much Rin and Jack could consume of each other.  Kissing was no longer an issue once the meds began to wear off, lips and tongues and mouths. It felt more like standing ankle deep in a bathtub. Warm and comforting; it was Jack that was overpowering.  

Eager to make up for a very long very lost amount of time. He stumbled along Rin's body uneasily because of how little clothing she removed at first. Not that he was in a rush to reveal what was underneath his oversized shirt and sweatpants. He wasn’t the one recoiling when the stimulation overwhelmed.  

“I'll take off my shirt. Touch me here, but where the fabric of my bra is. Tease the nipple with just your fingertips. No that's.. maybe under? Touch them. Oh God. Now your mouth. Right there.  Are you.. you took your shirt off too?” (She marveled at how defined, muscular Jack's body seemed despite his slight stature)   

Jack took initiative now and slid his fingers inside of Rin. He pumped them a few times guided by her ``Oh.. maybe you can touch me.. Do you feel.. It’s like a bud or a kernel.. Here let me.. It’s just right.. OH GOD.  Right like.. ”   And she would ride his hand and fingers that circled that bud.  

Rin would cry out in surprise.  Her body exploded in ecstasy. They weren't drowning anymore. Just swimming, bobbed under the water and surface. It was the sense-memory of suffocating, coupled with the dazzling pleasure of Jack's warm tongue as it teased her nipples, his strong fingers teasing her clit at the same time. His hot skin meshed with hers washed out by fear.  She apologized as they scrambled to arrange themselves. 

“Don't think I'm going anywhere for quite some time, my love.”  His words changed with the possessive my in lieu of the once meaningless sentiment. He would steal a chaste kiss from Rin whose cheeks flushed to match his own as he made that familiar adjustment between his legs.  In the future, Rin would come to him without a bra but reluctant to take her shirt off when Jack kept on never minding.

Jerry became an ally of sorts. He always had been on Rin's side after she read him her second section. It wasn't difficult to get him to believe in Jack's abilities. Staff has whispered down the corridors that Jack had suddenly found himself aware of a suicide attempt.  That dead reporter Emma mentioned, his fiancé had taken more pills than Rin ever fathomed any number of her attempts. (She had a flare for dramatics: slit wrists) Jerry mentioned Jack had a tantrum the likes of a toddler screaming the name Sarah whatever over and over, pounding his fists into his head to make whatever haunted him. Sure enough, this Sarah was found nearly having bled out and foaming at the mouth. 

“How would he even fucking know, poppet? Not unless Jack really was chatting up her dead fiancé “ As if that was all he needed, Jerry turned his back and caused distractions all the nights the Empath and her Beautiful Broken Man longed to be together.

It was stunning the way Jack learned to manipulate the system.  Only Rin, and reluctantly Jerry, knew he pocketed his meds.  Safely tucked away in those ugly arachnid globes in the pockets or purse of Billy and Emma.  He started talking more in group therapy and far less in private sessions.  Engaged in conversations with his sister and nephew, true ones that resulted in a simple smile or a laugh free from a facetious tone.  To the staff and doctors those fucking psychopharmeceuticals worked.  To Jack’s sister and nephew and whatever Rin was to him, there was a slowly lifting weight making the air around him lighter. Yet Rin kept her hands to herself.

More trial and error.  In the midst of fervent kisses, Rin took Jack in her hand.  A stroke or two was all she got in before he spasmed and came.  The mortification that flashed in his eyes as he curled in a fetal position between her and the wall while she whispered reassurances in his ear.  Touching him, caressing him and eventually taking him into her mouth became easier and longer with practice and patience.  

They laughed into each other’s mouths before Rin let her tongue trail down over his stomach. Anxiously Jack took off his pants and boxers, lying backwards.  He held the back of her head, moaned and twisted as she licked and sucked on him. His hips bucked and thrust upwards.  

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

Present Day, Again

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed Rin. Tongue pushed inside of her, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered,  just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me?”

Rin took a moment to think.  He wasn’t drowning anymore.  She could push that old feeling out of her third eye and bury herself in new ones.  She took a hold of her shirt and tossed it on the floor.  She took the erection that twiced against her thigh and held it just outside of her pulsating and ready sex.  With hands that sunk into her vunerable skin, Jack buried himself inside of her. 

That fire from Emma all that time ago poured from Jack’s body into hers.  It pushed back the water as he pumped rhythmically into Rin.  Building into a frenzy quickly, his pelvis crashed into hers before she could really come around to what was happening.  It briefly conquered the fears from before; caused hot tears to spring to her eyes that flowed uncontrolled down her cheeks.

In his fervor, Jack noticed and bent to kiss them away.  The gesture she had made that first time, a thumb brushed across her cheek and lower lip as he slowed his pace. Wren,” he took to calling her that tentatively.  “What is it?”

Before she could answer, Jack became distracted by something in the corner of the room.  Eyes passed between Rin and whatever it was that she couldn’t fathom or see.  She took his chin and focused it on her as they crashed together and apart again in another wave of building friction. It was too late though, he had abruptly pulled out and away from her. 

“NO!  STOP!  LEAVE ME ALONE!  CAN’T I HAVE ONE MOMENT OF FUCKING HAPPINESS WITHOUT ONE OF YOU LOOMING OVER ME LIKE A FUCKING PERV.”  He used fists to beat out a rhythm on his temples as he scurried to the corner of his bed with knees up to his chest.  

In the frenzy, Rin had been knocked to the floor.  Jerry had rushed in, he was never too far away just in case.  In a whirlwind, he picked Rin up with one hand and with the other attempted to intervene between Jack's fists and his head.  What could either of them do?  If attention was drawn to the room, surely the doctors would realize Jack had gone unmedicated for weeks.  Jerry’s eyes wide gestured towards Rin’s hands.  She shook her head, but Jack carried on.  

“Go on Jenny Wren, there has to be something your hands can do.  I’ll lose my job and you’ll be separated.  They’ll put him back in the Zoo.”  He was already yanking her arms forward and trying to remove her gloves before she could consent.

Rin knew The Zoo. It being rooms that could be monitored with two way mirrors.  You got a bed and a blanket.  They controlled when the lights came on and when they turned them off.  No privilege, no real structure.  They fed you, bathed you, and gave you “playtime” when they said.  No matter how you suffered from mental illness no one deserved that. She would never forgive herself.

“JERRY LET ME DO IT MYSELF!”  Rin bellowed if only to out yell Jack and his fit.  “Make her go away!  LEAVE ME ALONE” he cried underneath her.  Her hands free, she flexed them a few times before joining Jack on the bed.  She clutched his forearms and struggled to get a grip enough to pull them away from self-harm.  “JACK!  YOU HAVE GOT TO FUCKING STOP, MY DARLING.”  She slid her hands over his temples before he could punch them anymore.  She used the heels of her palms and pressed.  

It was immediate, the way her mind opened to him.  This time he was floating along the tide in a boat surrounded by what Rin could only guess were dead people.  They grabbed and tugged on Jack’s clothes.   Rin sat on the other side from him between two oars; she used one to swat at the ghosts who tried to pull them back in.  But there, walking along the surface, was a beautiful young woman.  Blonde hair flowed in waves down her back.  Sarah.

“You said we would be together, Jack.”  She was angry.  “That’s what you told him when he warned you I overdosed.  I survived that attempt, but not the second one.  Where is he Jack?  Why isn’t he here waiting for me?”

Jack stood up and the boat began to dangerously rock. Rin took his hand and he squeezed it in return.  He bellowed at the dead woman, “YOU SURVIVED AND HE MOVED ON.  I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU BEING FUCKING STUPID, SARAH.  WHAT I TOLD YOU WAS MEANT TO EASE YOUR GUILT.  HE LOVED YOU.  YOU WERE SO LOVED.  HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MISTAKES.  YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME ALONE.  ALL OF YOU.  I’M FUCKING DONE.  MOVE ON.  GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.  I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND.  AND FUCK OFF BILLY TOO, MATE.”

“Jack?”  Rin spoke softly.  The hands gripped her tight in place of him.  They started to pull her in with him because he was useless now.  He stood up to them for possibly the first time in twenty years.  They would take her instead then.  

Jack seized Rin’s body before she could go over in his place.  He held her fast and tight and shielded her from them.  “NO.  You don’t fucking get ANYONE I love.  Not Billy.  Not Emma.  Not Martin.  No Wren or Rin.  AND YOU DON’T FUCKING GET ME ANYMORE.”  He took the oar up in his free hand and swung it around the bodies in the water.  He jabbed it forward like a sword at Sarah still pacing the side of the boat.  “GO, SARAH.  HE’S WAITING FOR YOU.  I PROMISE THIS TIME”  Jack insisted and pleaded.

Then it was so silent it deafened both Jack and Rin as they clung to one another in the boat.  In a flash and explosion, they separated and landed back on the bed in the room in an institution.  Jerry panted and pawed at the two of them dazed and uncertain.  Jack blinked a handful of times with no recollection of what just took place in his head and Rin’s.  They never knew or remembered Rin had learned.

Jack scoured the room for any sign of Sarah or anyone else.  He rubbed his eyes a few times then sighed heavily.  “I.. I want to go back to my room now.”  It was matter of fact.  

Jerry nodded and helped him back into his clothes.  Jack stumbled a bit but managed to kiss Rin sweetly before being led away and down the hall.  Rin knew Jerry would probably give him something to help him sleep at least for the night and probably into tomorrow.  She was afraid Jack had woken up a second time.  Not just from his nightmare of the last twenty years, but whatever happened between them.  It was a price she had to pay sometimes when she helped.  There was something Rin longed to say earlier.  What made her cry was an ember somewhere deep inside of Jack that he had never experienced before.  For the first time in his life, he had hope.

[drosselmeyerwrites]

I got behind on Yashahime and was gonna catch up until I heard the news.I loved Sesshomaru since I was in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL! Why man? Who approved this bullshit? I will still love Moriah, Towa, and Setsuna, but other than that with a few Characters, this series Does. Not. Exist. To. Me. Sesshomaru would never, nor would the others approve. Once again. What the fuck.

I’m frustrated with you for sure. On so many levels. But I refuse to let what is essentially monetized (bad) fanfiction take Sesshoumaru from me. These stories are complex. The various streams of information (manga, anime, etc.) can make it really difficult to follow character’s stories at times and keep straight what’s what, and honestly, this seems to be more poignant in the case of Sesshoumaru. I know there are different persepctives on what’s “canon” in any fandom, but I do ascribe to the idea that the original content as written by the creator is what’s canon. For Inuyasha, this is the manga. The manga divulges so many layers to Sesshoumaru’s character that gets ignored. The anime missed some significant stuff at times, but this new series just completely ignores some of the most beautiful and intricate things about his development that made Sesshoumaru such a deeply interesting character to so many. What’s in Yashahime isn’t Sesshoumaru anymore. I think I’m mostly upset with Sunrise and how they treated fans. They know what a volatile subject this one was - one that has the potential to be severely damaging to so many people based on personal histories and experiences. The fact that they baited fans the way they did seems like they did nothing more than string people along to make a buck. I understand business is business, but as a working professional, how you treat your clients (or fanbase in this case) matters. I would also argue that, given the nature of the subjects now covered in the series, there is a serious need to question their judgement and intent given that the show is marketed toward children largely. What we need to remember is this: the canon material (manga or anime canon) did not provide anything in it that required for them to take this the direciton that they did with Sesshoumaru’s character. Anyone arguing otherwise would be arguing for an inappropriate relationship between an adult and child. The decision they made that did not have to go down the way it has. And if people take them to task and hold them accountable for it, well, they deserve every ounce of criticism that comes their way. In the meantime, fandom remains what it always has: a comfort and a place to fix things. Honestly, and I know I am not the only person in the IY fandom that will say this, I have enjoyed many fanworks far more than even the original content, and I expect that to continue. Fellow IY fans who have invested their time into understanding the original content and characters have done so much more with the characters we love than we ever saw in the show or even manga, peeling away different layers and taking them in directions that are both brilliant and unique.  In the midst of this chaos and upset, I am grateful for those efforts and the ones that are to come. So, as frustrating as this all is and as hard as it is to embrace the idea, my effort is going to be spent on continuing to contribute and letting the rest go. Because that’s not my Sesshoumaru. And it never will be.

[hopelikethemoon]

Inhale/Exhale (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Inhale/Exhale Rating: PG-13 Length: 3700 Warnings: Mild Panic Attack, Recreational Drug Use (Marijuana), and Allusions to Sex Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in Februrary 1998.  Summary: Reader pulls the trigger on the DEA article. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​

There was no coming back from this. Hell, you’d already crossed the point of no return when Javier had handed you those files for Christmas. The DEA had made it clear that they weren’t going to take this laying down — they’d already tried to bully both of you into silence. 

And you hadn’t backed down.

They clearly hadn’t realised that you could almost die from childbirth and still come back punching harder than before. You weren’t going to let them silence you. You deserved credit for your contributions in the agency. Was that really so wrong?

“And you plan to run this as a three-part series?” You questioned.

Gregory Vickers sat across from you at your dining room table. He was a well-respected journalist. He had worked for years to uncover cases that were much larger than your fight against the DEA. Horrendous sexual assault scandals in the Navy. Government cover-ups. He’d made a name for himself by pursuing stories that weren’t for the faint of heart. 

Javier shifted in his seat as you passed the article towards him. Your entire career at the DEA had been reduced to a neat stack of pages that peeled back the layers on the lies, cover-ups, and ploys of intimidation that had kept you out of the public Narcos casefiles. 

“Three front page runs. March, April, May. All above the fold.” Gregory answered, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at you. “Two follow-ups either side of the April front page. I anticipate they’ll have an official rebuttal of the claims leveled.” He looked towards Javier then, before looking back at you. “Expect fallout.”

You tensed at his words, sitting up straighter. You only relaxed when Javier’s hand found yours beneath the table. He interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing gently. “We’re ready for whatever they throw at us.” 

“You’re certain your student isn’t interested in lending credence to your claims that they paid her to lie about an affair?” Gregory questioned, arching a brow at Javier then. “I’m willing to run that element, unverified, but you know they’ll counter it.”

“She’s part of an at-risk demographic,” You explained to him. “I would prefer to keep her name out of this, Mr. Vickers.” 

“Well, if they bankrolled her, then the DEA knows who she is.” He adjusted his glasses, before resting his arms against the table as he leaned forward. “I’m just trying to make sure you realize what will happen.”

You drew in a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. Nancy had prepared you for this. She’d talked you through the process of managing your anxiety. You inhaled again. One. Two. Three. You exhaled just as slowly, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest.

Javier gave your hand three squeezes, leaning towards you to whisper, “Baby, why don’t you see if the coffee’s done percolating?”

“Hmm?” You questioned, turning to stare at Javier blankly. You had heard him, but you hadn’t really heard what he said. The drumming of your pulse in your ears was more than a little overwhelming.

Gregory cleared his throat, “Why don’t we take a break for a couple minutes?” 

“That sounds like a damn good idea,” Javier said, knocking his knuckles against the top of the table. 

“Would you like some coffee, Mr. Vickers?” You questioned. 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” He offered you a warm smile as he nodded his head. “I’m going to take a short call in the car and I’ll be back in here in two ticks.” 

“I’ll walk you out.” Javier said, releasing his hold on your hand as he rose to his feet. He reached over, giving you shoulder a squeeze before he followed Gregory out of the dining room. You remained sitting, staring straight ahead at the wall behind where he had been sitting. 

This article had to come out. Come hell or high water, you wanted the DEA to pay for all the bullshit you had to put up with. The agency was a boy’s club and as long as they kept treating it like one, people were going to get caught in the crossfire. Women were going to get stuck in the crossfire. 

They had taken a “risk” on you. You still remembered the bullshit hoops you had to jump through to get the assignment. No one wanted to go to Colombia — but you did. You were willing to give up the comforts you had in Atlanta, the menial work you had at the DEA office, in order to go to a highly undesirable situation. 

Who knew what else was going on down there? Chris was allowed to operate, unchecked. You were almost certain you weren’t the only woman who came in contact with his misogynistic, sexist, vile bullshit. You pitied the women that weren’t in the position to call him out. 

And you were certain not every agent was like Javier when it came to getting information out of informants. You’d seen some of the redacted reports that had come out of the Mexico office. The entire DEA was filled with monsters. Omitting you from the Pablo Escobar case was the least of things. 

“Baby,” Javier started. You hadn’t even realized he’d returned. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” He reached out and curled his hand around your forearm, dragging his fingers up and down the length of it. “Mr. Vickers is willing to push this off for another couple of months if you want.”

“No. I want it to come out.” You met his eyes, resting your hand over his on your arm. “I can’t drag this out for another year.”

“You were a million miles away just now.” He said gently, reaching up to cup your cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m not gonna lie, there’s still… some residual stress related to this.” You gestured to the article sitting between you on the table. “But it’s gonna be okay, Javi. I think this is the sort of situation where a little anxiety is allowed.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, raking his fingers through his hair as he sank back in his seat. “I feel like my gut’s in a knot. This shit… it’s not fun.”

“Just remember, you were the one that pushed me into this. You gave me all of the tools to make this possible.” You pointed at him, before you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you get coffee and I’ll go check on the girls?”

“Sounds like a plan, baby.” Javier winked at you, before you both parted ways. 

“How’s it going out there?” Monica questioned as you walked into your bedroom. With the door that led out into the backyard, sequestering the girls and Stevie in your bedroom had made the most sense. If the dog needed to go out or Josie got to be too much, Monica had access to more space. 

“I had a very small episode.” You admitted, shutting the door behind you as you crouched down to pet Stevie. She barked softly, jumping up to lick at your face excitedly. “There’s my pretty girl.” You cooed, sinking down on the floor and letting her flop onto your lap. 

“Shit. Are you okay?” Monica questioned, propping Sofía up on her legs as she perched on the edge of the bed. 

You shrugged, “It’s to be expected. There’s a lot of… emotions tied up in this situation.” Stevie seemed thrilled with the attention you were giving her, rolling onto her side so you could reach her belly. “Mr. Vickers is great, though. He’s super understanding.”

“Did… I get brought up?” Monica questioned, glancing behind her to check on Josie who was laying on the bed listening to a Read-Along tape. 

“Yeah, but I told him you aren’t interested in having your name associated with this.” You gave her a look. “The last thing I want is your parents trying to contact you. There’s a whole world of trouble that could come from this.” 

Monica nodded her head slowly, rubbing her lips together. “I never thought anything like this would ever happen to me. I still feel like an idiot for accepting the money, but I…” She bounced Sofía in her lap. “I never meant to cause you or Javier any harm. Despite what I had to do.”

“Water under the bridge.” You waved your hand. “Neither of us expect you to participate in this. It’s not your fight.” 

“I really hope this works out.” She smiled at you. “Everything you have told me about Colombia… You deserve to be there, right alongside Steve and Javier.” 

“I do.” You sighed heavily, turning your head when you heard the front door open. Through the bedroom door you could hear Javier’s muffled voice as he spoke with Mr. Vickers somewhere near the dining room. “I guess I have to go back out there.” 

She gave you a sympathetic look. “When is the article going to come out?”

You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip, “From March to May.” 

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” You pursed your lips. “It’s crazy. I’ll be a nervous wreck.” 

Monica snapped her fingers, giving you a look. “Didn’t Chucho give you a gift at Christmas?”

You felt your cheeks burn with guilt. “Yep. He did.” You made a face, “I tried to broach the topic last month when the old man was lurching around because of his back.” 

“It does wonders for anxiety.” Monica pointed out. 

Your lips parted to respond, but a knock on the other side of the bedroom door startled you. “Baby?”

“I’m coming!” You called back, giving Stevie one more pet before you peeled yourself off the floor. “Maybe I’ll give it a try tonight.” You told Monica as you opened the door.

“Try what?” Javier questioned, his brows drawn together as you met his eyes.

“Weed.” You answered as you moved past him, pulling the door shut behind you. “Don’t look so scandalized. I’ll call your father.” 

“That is the first time you’ve threatened to get my father involved in a conversation.” Javier snorted. 

“We both know I’m his favorite.” You winked at him, walking side-by-side with him as you headed into the dining room where Mr. Vickers was waiting for you. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”

“Take all the time you need. I understand.” He assured you, offering a kind smile. “You’ve been put through an extraordinary situation. You’re allowed to need time.”

“I want this article to run.” You said firmly, gesturing to your copy of the article. “And whatever you need moving forward, I’m ready to deal with it.” 

“You’re a strong woman.” 

“I have three daughters.” You stated. “I’m doing this for them.” 

Gregory rose to his feet, extending his hand to you, “I’m proud of you for coming forward. It’s not easy.”

You shook his hand, “You’ve been great. I hope this is beneficial to your career. We need more journalists who are willing to go after these entities.” 

“It’s just the tip of the iceberg. I can assure you of that.” Mr. Vickers told you. “I’ve already received feelers for a much larger case. You’re the lynchpin.” 

Javier curled his arm around your waist, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “She’s a goddamn marvel.” He said, before he shook Mr. Vickers hand. “Thank you for this.” 

“I’m glad you reached out.” Gregory offered. “If only there were more men who were willing to speak up about what goes on around them.”

“I’m not a hero,” Javier insisted. “It was the right thing to do. I only wished I spoke up sooner about some of the bullshit that went on down there. It’s easy when there aren’t eyes on you to get away with murder.” 

He nodded his head, “You’re onto something there, Mr. Peña.” Gregory looked towards you then, “Again, what you’ve done is incredibly brave. We’ll keep in touch as this progresses forward.” 

 ———

 You were going to have to call Chucho tomorrow to thank him for his Christmas gift. It had done wonders to help ease all the tension you felt in your body.

In fact — what even was tension? You held the smouldering joint between your fingers and took another deep inhale, turning your head as you exhaled. 

Javier definitely needed to give this a try. He’d forget he ever had pain if he’d just… smoke some marijuana. He could get away with it. 

After all, he was a hot professor hell bent on teaching his students how to dismantle the government from inside. Inside.

You snorted at your own thoughts. You sat the joint down on the plate you’d brought outside with you. You hadn’t had an ashtray in your house since… well, since you’d moved to Miami. 

How had that been so long ago? Josie was almost five! Sofía was almost one. 

Oh God, you were getting old. 

But happy. Really happy. 

You leaned forward on your elbows, smiling to yourself as you looked around your backyard. 

Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have been able to wrap your head around having a house. You’d pretty much convinced yourself you’d live in apartments — alone — for the rest of your life. And then there was Javier

“Baby?”

Shit. 

You fumbled with the joint, trying to hide it, but instead you accidentally burnt your hand. “Fuck! Hi. Are the girls asleep?”

His hands went to his hips, “They are. What are you doing?” Javier approached the picnic table with a curious look. “Are you smoking?”

“No—“

“What the fuck? I thought we both agreed to quit when Josie was born.”

“You need to bring it down… to a two, my love.” You waved your hand dismissively. “You’re killing my buzz.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He moved closer, picking up the joint and sniffing. “Weed? Really?”

You shrugged, “I am your father’s favorite.”

“I thought you were joking!” 

You moved to kneel on the bench so you were almost eye-level with Javier. “You need to hush. I’m having a moment.” You cupped his cheeks and kissed him soundly on the mouth. 

“Baby,” He urged as he pulled out of your grasp. “You are high.” Javier’s brows pinched together as he met your gaze. 

Your eyes wandered and you laughed warmly. “So what if I am?”

“Oh my God.” He shook his head, keeping a hand at your hip. “How long has this been going on?”

“An hour?” You frowned. “Do you mean the weed or do you mean how long I’ve been crazy about you?”

His brows shot upwards, “Alright, come on. I think I’m gonna need to tuck you in too, baby.”

You giggled, “You can tuck right into me.”

Javier rolled his eyes, “Really?” 

“You should get high too!” You grabbed at the front of his shirt, toying with the buttons. “You would love it. It’s so liberating.” You grinned at him, “There’s enough left.” 

“I’m not smoking marijuana.”

“Your back won’t bother you. Your knees won’t bother you.” You danced your fingers up his chest, curling your hand around the side of his neck. “And then we can have a little fun. If you get what I mean.”

“You’re high. The only thing we’re going to do is get you to bed, baby.”

“But I’m horny.”

Javier’s jaw clenched tightly. “Bed. To sleep.” He convinced you to get off the bench, but not before you snatched up the joint and put it out. “When did my father give this to you?”

“Christmas.” You told him, tucking the joint back into the tin box he’d given to you. “He thought you might be willing to try it.”

“Not happening.”

“Even if it’ll make you feel better?”

“It’s illegal.”

You wheeled around then, hands on your hips. “I swear to God, if you try to flush my weed down the toilet I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

You blinked, “I have no idea where I was going with that. Huh.”

“I’m not going to do anything to your weed.” He assured you, holding out your hand for him to take. “C’mon.”

“So sex is definitely off the table?”

“Yes, because you’re high.” Javier huffed, letting go of your hand as you wandered into the bedroom. “You’re going to bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I feel good. I’m gonna enjoy it.” You told him firmly, ducking into your closet to stow your stash, before you headed back into the bedroom.

Javier looked so disappointed. It was hilarious — so hilarious, in fact, that you started laughing. 

“Your mustache looks funny when you frown.” You teased, moving towards him. You reached out and petted your fingers over his mustache, giggling again. “I love it.”

“Bed.”

“No.” You mimicked his voice, hands on your hips. “You’re such a killjoy sometimes, babe. We could be having so much fun right now. But instead you’re all.” You dramatically pouted.

“Will you at least lay down?”

You rolled your eyes, looking over at the bed. You considered it for the moment. “Maybe.” You looked back at Javier then. “Are you sure you’re not ‘in the mood’?” You questioned.

Javier arched a brow, “When have you ever used air quotes?” 

“Five seconds ago.” You shot back with a smirk, moving closer to him again. “Come on Javi… You know it would be fun.” You ran your hands up his chest, before resting them on his shoulders. “You should really try it. I feel so good. Like I could just float up off the floor.” 

“As tempting as it might be, I’m gonna have to say ‘no’, baby.” He gave your hip a squeeze, “Okay?”

“Fine.” You sighed dramatically. “But you’re going to have to leave.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I told you. I’m horny.” You poked him in the chest as you pulled away from him, heading over towards the nightstand. “And if you’re not going to put out, I’m gonna have to break out ye olde trusty.” 

“You are… ridiculous.” He chuckled, unable to hide his amusement. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“Is that how this works?” You questioned, pulling the hot pink vibrator out of the box, turning back towards him then with an amused grin. “If I want something, I get it?”

“Nice try. No.” He shook his head. 

You pointed at him with the toy, waving it around for emphasis. “Javier, you’re no fun!”

“I’m plenty of fun, baby.” He deadpanned, hands on his hips as he watched you move towards the bed. 

“I beg to differ. You’re a grumpy old man.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” 

You flopped back onto the bed, “Do I?”

“Ouch.”

“I’m not loving that you’re killing my buzz. Buzzkill.” You pouted as you sat up and looked at him. “Don’t you want to feel better?”

“I feel fine.”

“That wasn’t you complaining this morning about your back?” You arched a brow. “And your shoulder — totally fine, right?”

“Marijuana is illegal.”

“It’s illegal for Monica and Nadia to get married.” You pointed out, sitting the toy aside on the mattress. “And yet you don’t think that is wrong.”

“You’re not allowed to make valid points when you’re high.” Javier shook his head. “Alright, so some illegal things are fine.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Isn’t that why you keep me around?” You pursed your lips as you stared at him. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to smoke?”

He shook his head slowly. “Maybe another day.”

“But not a hard ’no’?”

Javier relented, “Yeah. Maybe I’ll try it some other day. But one of us had to be sober in case something happens with the girls.”

“Oh. That’s smart,” You nodded. “You’re a good dad.”

“I do my best.” Javier approached the bed, sitting down beside you. He reached over and took your hand into his, lifting it to his lips to kiss each knuckle. “I’m sorry this bullshit with the article has you stressed.”

“It’s not—“ You cut yourself off. “It’s just a lot.”

“I wish I had known. Before all of this.” He sighed heavily. “So much fucking bullshit.”

“Javier,” You leaned towards him and rested your cheek on his shoulder. “Don’t kill my buzz.”

He chuckled, resting his hand atop your thigh. “Sorry, baby.”

“I should’ve told you I was gonna smoke.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “But I didn’t want you to stop me.”

“You’re an adult.” Javier remarked, “You can do whatever you want. Even if it’s illegal.”

You nudged your elbow into his ribs, “Fuck off.” A soft giggle escaped you as you curled your arms around his middle. You shifted on the bed so you could throw your legs over his lap. “Hold me.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, baby.” He chuckled, curling his arm around your waist. Javier took that as an opportunity to scoot back on the bed so you were at least, somewhat near the head of the bed. 

“Can you imagine if we were both high?” You questioned, stretching out so you could all but lay on top of him. You were actually kinda sleepy. “This is a nice pillow.”

Javier rubbed his hand down the length of your back, “You’re ridiculous.”

“But what if we were both high?” You poked him in the chest. 

“Quit poking me.” He laughed, grabbing your hand. “I don’t know… What do you think I’d be like high, baby?”

“Well, I hope you’d be willing to fuck me then. Because I bet sex is great when you’re high.” You sighed contentedly, enjoying the feel of Javier’s hand as he ran his hand up and down your back. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this calm. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.” Javier told you, tilting his head to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Baby, you’re drool— Nevermind. Go to sleep.”

You mumbled something to yourself that you weren’t even certain of. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

You let that weightless feeling pull you under into the most blissful, stress-free, night of sleep you’d ever experienced. 

[spaceskam]

i got a little time

a slightly last minute day 4 of @malexweek​: free day! companion piece to my story in some other life! It’s not necessary to read that one first to understand this one since it takes place in the same time frame

warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of death, ptsd, childhood trauma, basically just proceed with caution

ao3

Alex knew a lot of things.

He was admittedly smart and open-minded. He tried his best to be logical and kind and fair. Granted, that kindness hadn’t really been extended to Michael Guerin lately, but he deserved it. Alex had no regrets pushing him away because he deserved it.

However, as his phone went off and he read the text Michael had sent out, his stomach dropped to the floor.

From: Michael

Hi. Sorry for the group message. Basically I'm leaving tonight. You probably won't see me again and if you do then I've failed. I didn't want to go without saying goodbye, but I also didn't want to freak you all out today when I came to see you. I know I've let you all down and I hope what I'm doing makes up for it. Thank you for being around me even though you don't like me. I'm sorry for all my fuck ups and for hurting you and for generally being a bad person. I hope it's better in another life. Love, Michael

Alex read over the message at least ten times, trying to make sense of it. His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, but he couldn’t tell if he was just projecting or not. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it under a good conscience. Especially when other people in the groupchat were asking what he meant and receiving no response.

“Hey, I gotta go,” Alex said to his date, the name of whom escaped him in favor of trying to make sense of what was going on with Michael. He didn’t wait for acknowledgement before he went to his car.

Alex threw caution to the wind, speeding to the junkyard. The more he thought, the faster he drove. He was buzzing with worry. What if Michael was leaving the planet in that stupid spaceship? Or, worse, what if Michael was leaving in a much more permanent way? Gone. Full stop.

He pulled up to the airstream at the same time as Isobel, both of them haphazardly parking and getting out of their respective cars as quickly as possible. The trailer was moved and exposing the manhole in the ground and all that did was make it more nerve-wracking. They shared a look and immediately went to pry it open.

Everything around them seemed eerily quiet. All the sounds that came with being outside seemed to be gone. No creaking, no wind, no nothing. All dead. 

“I can’t feel him,” Isobel told him, her words soft and desperate. He spared her a look for a couple seconds before he just pried open the hole with all the strength he could muster. 

It opened and, again, more eerie silence. Alex went down the ladder first, moving faster than he should. Working a ladder with one leg was still difficult, but this was Michael. Michael, the love of his life and who had been torturing. What if he went too far?

Alex hit the ground and Isobel did within the next second, having chosen to jump down. They both immediately noticed the giant arch that hadn’t been there the last time they were down there.

“Michael?” Isobel called softly as they slowly made their way around the bench. The arch was humming with electricity still and the place around them looked like it’d been ransacked. Michael was always messy minded, but this was a different level.

Which is when they spotted him laying on the ground unconscious.

“Michael!” Isobel said, immediately dropping to his side and tapping his cheeks. Something was stopping Alex from doing the same. It took him a second to realize what exactly kept him from doing that, but, once he noticed, he couldn’t not notice.

His hair was noticeably shorter, the curls tighter and only seeming to be disturbed by him falling to the ground. His clothes were different, a button-up shirt that was buttoned up all the way up and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows along with tighter jeans than the man he knew would ever wear. His body was even different, much slimmer in every way including his shoulders being at least a couple inches less broad. He looked like Michael, but he… wasn’t.

“Isobel,” Alex said cautiously, his eyes staying on the unconscious body, “That’s not Michael.”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Just look at it,” Alex whispered, “That’s not Michael.”

A terrified little gasp racked through her body and she covered her hand over her mouth as it seemed to click that it really wasn’t Michael. Alex started to look around, looking for something that might give him a clue for what the hell was going on.

The whole table was covered in nonsensical math and writing, everything disjointed. He had lined paper, but it seemed he disregarded them completely. Alex started to gather them in one stack so he could bring it all back with him so he could study it when he spotted one page in particular. It had ‘ALEX’ written across the top in unmistakable letters.

ALEX

If you’re reading this, then I’m probably gone. Which is good, I think. Good for you, good because you deserve not to have me ruining all the good things in your life. I’m only writing this because I needed to get some things off my chest and it didn’t really suffice in a text. So here it is.

I love you. More than anything in the world. All of the bullshit I’ve done and the mistakes I’ve made, I never stopped loving you. You’re the reason I made it this far in the first place I think. Every time I got too sad or things felt like too much or getting out of bed seemed impossible, thinking of you always made it a little easier. You’re my home and you give me hope and that scares the shit out of me, but it’s true. And it’s okay that I’m not the same to you. I don’t need to be.

I could sit here and write a whole five pages on how beautiful you are, but you know that I think that. You know that I’m convinced you could stop traffic. It seems a little unimportant to mention something as small as physical beauty, but you’re gorgeous. Every single little thing about you. Name something about you and I worship it.

Every song on the radio is about you. The sky rains for you and the sun shines for you. The world turns for you. 

I think I might be insane.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU. Today, yesterday, tomorrow, always. I’ll treat you better in a different lifetime.

Love, Michael

Alex took a deep breath as he looked over it a couple more times. His stomach was churning and he felt sick. What the hell did he do?

The not-quite Michael on the ground groaned, stealing Alex’s attention and reminding him what was going on. He folded up the note and shoved it in his pocket as he turned to help Isobel with whoever this was.

He slowly lifted his head and looked around. He was dazed and trying to piece it together. However, he seemed to wake up and he sat up straight, panic evident on his face.

“Did I do it? Where am I? There’s people here,” the Other Michael murmured to himself, checking himself for wounds. His chin was bowed to his chest and he kept talking to himself, kept asking himself questions, kept ignoring that he could ask the other people in the room. “Black boots, they didn’t have black boots. Jeans, they didn’t wear jeans. I’m not there, where am I?”

“Michael?” Isobel said. Alex wanted to reach out to her and pull her back so they could have this conversation in a more efficient way after they figured out  what was going on, but that didn’t seem plausible.

The Other Michael froze at the sound of her voice and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bulging out of his head as he looked up at Isobel. He looked over her a few times.

“You’re Isobel?” he asked cautiously. She nodded slowly. Then he lunged forward to hug her, clinging onto her desperately. Isobel’s eyes drifted up to Alex’s, trying to figure out what to do. But, honestly, he didn’t know. He was way out of his fucking depth. “I could do it, I knew I could do it.”

“Do what?” Isobel whispered, eyes still locked on Alex in her fear and confusion.

“Fix it, save you,” he said, pulling away slightly, “Where’s Max?”

“Uh,” she said. Alex decided it was time to step in and figure out what to do.

“What exactly do you mean by save?” Alex asked. Michael turned his head to face him as if just remembering he was there and he looked Alex up and down. His entire face flushed a shade of red his Michael never did.

“I know him?” he whispered to himself before adding an “I know you?” a little louder. Alex nodded and his face got an even darker shade of red. 

“Can you explain what you mean by save?” Alex repeated. Michael blinked a few times before he nodded.

“Right. So,” he said, looking around and taking every detail in. Alex could see the gears in his mind turning as he catalogued things in his mind. He was actually thinking before he spoke. That was new. “Okay, I think I must’ve miscalculated because of your ages. I didn’t go back in time. Or, if I did, I don’t remember it, but I would’ve remembered it, so I think I’m elsewhere. Are those notes?” He got to his feet easily and Alex noticed that he was at least an inch or two shorter than his Michael. He was clearly a grown man, but he was so small. 

Michael sorted through the pages, his head moving slightly with his eyes as he read them impossibly fast. Isobel stood up and went to Alex’s side, taking ahold of his arm as a way to steady herself. Michael stopped his reading by tapping the table.

“Right. So, I know what happened. I was working on creating a time machine and so was he. I don’t think either of us were actually that wrong. By the looks of it, it should’ve worked quite well. I think the problem lies in the fact that we happened to do it at the exact same time in our respective timelines and it created a weird twist and we swapped places instead. The only way to fix it is to, again, do it at the same exact time. It’ll be a little hard to do on purpose, but I think we can manage,” Michael rambled, looking up at them, “I know he’ll want to come back. Here seems much better.”

“Better?” Isobel asked, eying him, “What’s it like where you’re from?”

Alex wasn’t actually sure he wanted to know. Michael had asked if he knew him here. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime where he didn’t know Michael. As much as he was an asshole, that seemed impossible.

“Um, well, you’re not there,” he said simply, still tapping against the counter, “Neither is Max. Where is Max?”

“He’s,” Isobel said cautiously, looking to Alex before looking back to Michael, “He’s dead.”

Michael stopped tapping.

“Oh,” he said, tilting his head, “What happened? Was it the doctors?”

“The doctors?” Alex prodded. Michael went back to tapping. He seemed to be twisting in his skin. Alex had the undeniable urge to get him alone and learn all of his secrets. Apparently that needed didn’t go away no matter which version of Michael he was talking about.

“The doctors, the ones who found us after the crash? Kept us, trained us, pushed us. Pushed until… Well, doesn’t matter, I got out. Did we all get out here? You know, both of you are very accepting of the alternate universe thing, I’m surprised,” Michael rambled, refusing to let them fully comprehend what he was saying about anything.

“Things are weird here,” Isobel said, stepping closer, “Go back to the doctors.”

“And you, how do I know you? Are you still called Alex? You dress different here and you walk different,” Michael quizzed. Alex raised an eyebrow. So he didn’t know him where he was from, but he knew how he dressed and how he walked? Michael’s face turned red again and he looked away. Not like he was making eye contact in the first place. 

Before they could make any sense of the rest of it‒or even make sense of what he’d already said‒there was more noise. Liz and Kyle and Maria appeared on the ladder, all rushing in response to that goddamn text.

But this Michael, smaller and different, immediately changed gears as more people appeared. Alex spotted the way he shrunk in on himself as Liz ran to hug him. He didn’t hug back or respond. His panic visibly grew before something went off behind his eyes and they unfocused. Alex clocked that immediately.

“Liz,” Alex said, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her off him. She looked confused as he did so, but she noticed Michael’s discomfort. “Isobel, take Michael to the airstream so he can calm down and fill him in on what it’s like here. I’ll tell them.”

Which would’ve worked, but the moment Isobel tried to pull him that way, he freaked out.

“No!” Michael said when she tried to pull him to the ladder, “No, no, I can’t, no.” 

Isobel let go of his arm and he pulled away completely, backing himself into a wall. He put his hands on his head and he instantly started whispering to himself, counting and breathing as he sunk in on himself. It probably wasn’t helping that everyone was staring at him like he didn’t belong.

“Okay, new plan,” Alex sighed, “Everyone else up, Isobel stay with him here.”

“What do I do?” Isobel whisper-yelled at him as everyone started heading back up the ladder without argument.

“Just sit with him. I’ll get an air mattress down here, maybe we can get him to sleep and we’ll figure it out,” Alex told her softly, his eyes going to the boyish, terrified version of the man he loved despite it all, “We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Okay,” Isobel agreed. Alex squeezed her arm and headed up the ladder to fill Liz, Kyle, and Maria in on the little bit they knew.

That letter burned in his back pocket.

-

It took less than 24-hours (for Alex, at least) that, as charismatic as this Michael had seemed when he first woke up, that wasn’t actually who he was.

He was quiet, reserved, and anxious. He talked to himself more than he talked to other people and he shied away from basically all of them as soon as the initial adrenaline wore off. He seemed to need isolation and familiarity and this… Well, this was a lot of change. All of which would’ve been, but Alex had heard him mention he needed his medication. It was concerning to say the least.

Alex and Isobel had been taking shifts to check on him which was hell on his leg, but Alex was determined to watch over him if only because he needed the real Michael back for his own peace of mind. However, the only way they were going to get his Michael back, was if this one was working out the kinks in the machine. Something he couldn’t do if they sent him into a mental break by making him stop all his medication without weaning off of them.

“Do you know all the medication you take?” Alex asked as he came down the ladder. Michael looked up at him from the air mattress. His eyes were tired and he was curled up in a ball.

“Yes,” Michael said softly, “35mg of paroxetine, 25mg of lamotrigine, 2mg of clonzaepam, 50mg of‒”

“Write it down for me,” Alex said instead, “I’ll get it for you.”

“You will?” Michael asked, almost like he was surprised. Alex nodded and gave him one of Michael’s notebooks and pens to write it down. This Michael took it graciously. 

His handwriting was noticeably different from the scratchy handwriting of his Michael. It was boxy and childlike despite the words being spelled perfectly. Alex wanted to pry so bad. He wanted to know everything.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you take all that for?” Alex wondered. He was no stranger to a long list of medications, but the Michael he knew would never. He was sure he’d rather pout over a vat of acetone than follow anything a doctor prescribed.

“You name it, I’ve been diagnosed with it at least once by someone,” he said, glancing up at Alex before diverting his eyes again. He did that with everyone. “Right now, I’ve got PTSD, anxiety, depression, and a couple other things, but it all seems to boil down to those three things, so.”

“Me too,” Alex said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “Air Force Captain. PTSD basically comes with the job.”

“Air Force,” Michael said to himself, “What led to Air Force?”

“And your anxiety, is it primarily when it comes to people or were you just generally overwhelmed last night?” Alex wondered as he took the list. He planned to shop through his own medicine cabinet before taking it to Kyle to see what he could get his hands on.

“Um,” Michael said, rubbing over his face, “I-I guess all of the above? Humans are too much. They think so loud and there’s too much with them, you know?”

Alex did not know.

“It’s easier to stay by myself. That’s what I do at home, I stay by myself. I get coffee, I go to therapy, I go home. I work from home. I do things from home.”

“You said we think too loud,” Alex said cautiously, “Does that mean you’re strong enough to hear my thoughts?”

Michael looked up at him, making eye contact for the very first time and it hit Alex a little too hard. There was something so distinctly off about him and something told him it had nothing to do with all the things he’d just admitted.

“I am not strong. I’m weak. That’s the only reason I’m alive.”

Alex stared at him for a long while, trying to make sense of what exactly he meant by that. He had a feeling it was one hell of a story. His whole life was probably one hell of a story. That’s typically how one ends up with a medication list that long.

“Right. I’ll be back soon and I’ll pick up some food.”

Michael pulled the blanket back over his head.

-

“What are we supposed to do with him exactly?”

“Take care of him.”

“This is so fucking weird.”

Alex rubbed his eyes as everyone spoke around him. It’d been four days of still just rotating shifts of checking on the not-Michael, slowly watching as he got stabilized and adjusted. It was taking longer than he wanted, but he knew he was just being impatient. 

Not-Michael was still being tight-lipped about what his life was actually like, but, considering the context clues, Alex was stressing that his Michael was in a very bad place. A place where they pick up little kids and spend their whole life torturing them to the point that they try to build a time machine.

But, then again, his Michael tried to build a time machine too.

“Well, I was talking with him last night,” Isobel said. She was handling it better than everyone and it had everything to do with Michael being completely obsessed with her existence. Every time Alex saw them, he was staring at her like she was made of diamonds. “He said he works as an technical engineering supervisor from home, like he works for the government and stuff. The guy is smart. Like, makes our Micheal look stupid, smart.”

“He talks to himself, though,” Liz pointed out, voice a little hushed, “Like more than normal. Shouldn’t we be a little concerned that he’s just a ticking time bomb?”

“I don’t know, there’s people at Sunset Mesa that talk to themselves like that and they’re not crazy. I think it just comes from isolation,” Maria suggested.

“It also could be a side effect of his heightened anxiety,” Kyle said.

“But don’t smart people talk to themselves? Maybe he’s just smart,” Isobel said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Or maybe he had a shitty childhood, worse than we can even imagine, and it’s a coping mechanism,” Alex said sternly, causing all of them to give him their attention, “Or it could be any number of things all mixed together, but it doesn’t matter. We aren’t going to sit here and speculate and gossip about him. We’re going to give him time to adjust to his medications, adjust to the new setting. We just have to be patient and not treat him like he’s weird or crazy. He’s still Michael, just… extremely different.”

“But shouldn’t we know what we’re dealing with?” Liz said.

“Listen, I’ve read over Michael’s notes over and over and they don’t make sense. I understand some of it and I’ve researched some of the math that was past my understanding, but some of it is nonsensical at best. This Michael is our only shot at getting ours back, so we’re going to be nice to him and we’re going to help him,” Alex explained simply.

“You know, for someone who was pretty anti-Michael before all of this, you sure seem really eager to get him back,” Isobel said. Alex didn’t give her any kind of reaction to that.

They slowly but surely shifted their conversation back onto other topics and Alex eventually announced that he would see them later before excusing himself for the night. Like he had been for the last few nights, he made his way to the airstream. Other Michael had no idea that the airstream even existed since he refused to leave the bunker and his Michael probably wouldn’t mind him taking over the space, so that’s what he did. It made him feel safer, closer.

He changed into his night clothes and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his prosthetic. He needed to wash his leg and the liner, but Alex felt frozen in place. His head was heavy and his heart was aching and he found himself doubling over with a pillow in his lap, inhaling Michael’s scent and trying not to start crying.

It was more than a little difficult to process everything. Although Michael had only been gone for a few days, it felt like a goddamn lifetime. Alex had been overwhelmed with guilt and, any moment he wasn’t purposely distracting himself, he felt sick with it. The moment his mind relaxed, he’d just be drowning in self-hatred and anger and he had to distract himself again. He was fucking miserable and he just wanted Michael back. The right one.

Again, he played over the months leading up to this disaster. Michael had hooked up with Maria and was painfully mean to Alex all the while to the point that, when it crashed and burned, Alex felt no guilt being mean back. He pushed and he pushed and, when he saw Michael self-isolating and punishing himself, he pushed harder. Hell, that night, he’d purposely rubbed his date in his face, purposely told him to fuck off when he tried to say goodbye. It felt like it was all his fault.

The worst part was this was beyond his expertise. When normal people left, they usually just left the city or the state, not the goddamn dimension. This wasn’t something Alex could just follow him and apologize. This wasn’t even like he was dead and forcing him to mourn. This was hell. Did Michael know what this would do to him?

Alex kept the pillow under his nose as he grabbed the note again that Michael had left for him. He basically had it memorized by now, but he liked looking at it. He liked knowing that Michael didn’t hate him for being a dick. He loved him.

His eyes scanned over the words once again before he couldn’t take the tightness in his chest, so he quickly double checked that he hadn’t yet detached his leg before he stood up and went to go down to the bunker. He needed something and this was the closest thing he was going to get.

The Other Michael was sitting at the big table, looking between Michael’s work and a fresh notebook as he transcribed everything in a more cohesive manner. That alone gave Alex a little bit of comfort. Just… not enough.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little breathy and obviously stressed. The Other Michael looked up at him, but he avoided eye contact by focusing his eyes on Alex’s shoulder instead of his face. Which, fine, fair enough. “So, I hate to be so pushy, but can you tell me how you live over there? It’s driving me insane not knowing what he entered on his own and, no offense, but you being so heavily medicated just makes me nervous about how he’s doing. I just need to know he’s not, like, being tortured.”

The Other Michael was uncharacteristically silent for a moment and Alex forced himself to be patient. He didn’t want to push, but he just needed to know. Eventually, Michael swiveled in his little chair to show that he was giving him his full attention.

“I live in an apartment in Manhattan and I work from home. As long as he’s figured out what my job is and is keeping up my work, then he should be fine,” he said. Alex swallowed harshly and looked around the bunker to try to think of something.

“Then what’s so bad about being over there? Because you seemed pretty sure he’d want to come back,” Alex said. Michael started tapping against the table again, murmuring to himself softer than Alex could hear. He decided it wasn’t even his place to hear those thoughts.

“Um, here, there’s Isobel and you and… others,” Michael said, his face turning that deep shade of red it seemed to always be when he had to talk to him, “Over there, it’s very lonely.”

Alex nodded, swallowing as he looked around again to find something to say. It was weird being here without Michael, without him showing off. Everything was wrong without him here. 

“I have another question,” Alex said, which was an understatement, really, because he had a million, “How do you know me if you don’t know Liz or Maria or Kyle? If you live in Manhattan and you’re alone all the time, how do you know me?”

Michael’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red and he looked down at the table. Alex didn’t know what he was expecting him to say, but a part of him was assuming the worst. Were those “doctors” he mentioned actually military people? Did he know Alex because he was the son of one of them? But, honestly, that didn’t make sense because, if he was, he probably wouldn’t trust to be alone with any version of him.

“Um,” Michael said, still tapping away, “You live up in Manhattan too. And, I mean, I don’t know you over there. You’re a barista that I see sometimes and I follow you on Instagram, but we’ve never had a conversation.”

Well that was certainly not what Alex was expecting.

“I’m a barista?” Alex asked, suddenly more interested in this weird other version of him than anything else. Michael smiled for the first time and it was nice to see that he was getting more comfortable. 

“And, um,” he said, breathing out a soft breath of air as his cheeks continued to darken, “A go-go dancer.”

Alex huffed a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He couldn’t picture himself like that. The whole idea was laughable at best. He wondered if his Michael had discovered that yet. Did he find it funny?

“That’s…” Alex said, huffing a laugh as he leaned against the wall, “Insane. But I guess that could be fun in another life.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, still tapping. They were quiet for a moment again as Alex tried to picture it. “What, uh, what am I to you here? There you… Well, he would never give me the time of day if I tried.”

Alex smiled sadly to himself. He only had disappointing things to share. Somehow, that story of what could be sounded a lot more hopeful than Alex’s story of what could’ve been. They’d slaughtered their past, burned any chance of a future.

But, still, there was no point in lying.

“We’re in love,” Alex admitted and Michael nearly fell out of his chair. Alex snorted a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve been on and off since we were 17, he’s the love of my life.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” this Michael said, guilt on his face. But it wasn’t his fault. Well, not really, anyway.

“It’s okay,” he promised, “We weren’t together when all this happened. Kind of in a fight, I guess.”

“Well, I assumed. Not even a fool would leave you willingly,” he asked. It was Alex’s turn to feel his blood run a little hot and he raised an eyebrow.

“You should definitely try when you get home,” he said, “‘Cause you probably have a better shot than you think.”

Michael shook his head and looked back down to his notebook. Alex instantly started wondering if they were any closer to fixing that thing and getting back to normal, but he knew they probably weren’t. That’d be too easy, too quick. Alex was never lucky enough to get what he wanted in a timely manner.

“But, basically, he’s alone over there,” Alex said, shifting the subject back to the one that was important, “Is he safe from those doctors you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Michael said instantly, tone clipped, “They’re all dead.”

“Dead?”

Michael whispered to himself, knee bouncing and finger tapping. He was closing in on himself and it was clearly a touchy subject. But, the thing was, curiosity aside, he needed to know. He needed to know what kind of universe his Michael was going into. He needed to know if he was alone and facing a threat that Alex couldn’t protect him from. He didn’t know why exactly he needed to know that, but… he did.

“You don’t need to tell me all the details,” Alex said, stepping closer, “But I would really appreciate a little bit of a rundown of what happened to you over there. I know you’re not exactly like him, but he’s curious. He’s going to look into things.”

Michael kept tapping and he looked up to Alex before looking back down. Alex wasn’t sure if he was like his Michael or not, but he had to assume he had some things in common. So, in an attempt to comfort him like he would comfort his Michael, he reached out and touched his shoulder. His head snapped in his direction, but he didn’t pull away. So Alex squeezed and rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

“Tell me.”

“Isobel, Max, and I were found in the desert of Roswell, New Mexico after waking up out of our pods. Found by people camping, I think, I don’t remember. The next day, though, we were selected to be a part of a study that was publicized as a study for kids who had escaped from cults at young ages,” Michael said, letting out a little laugh. Alex rubbed over his back, all bones beneath his shirt. “We were the only subjects. I-I don’t really know all the details, they obviously wouldn’t tell us what they were doing or why, but they said we were aliens and they were there to train us. And train us they did.”

“But it was torture,” Alex guessed. Michael shrugged.

“Wasn’t all bad,” he admitted, “They just pushed so hard. It was too easy to break, fight back as we got stronger.”

“What happened when you fought back?” Alex asked quietly, his fingers reaching up into his hair. Michael’s eyes closed and he leaned into his touch. It was too familiar.

“Depends,” Michael said, “How violent you were equalled how bad it was. I threw a bowl of oatmeal at a nurse and got six weeks in solitary.”

“Jesus.”

“Isobel threw a doctor off the roof, killed him. She didn’t tell me what happened, but she had scars everywhere.”

“And Max?”

“Max,” Michael said, smiling sadly to himself as he seemed to think back, “Max let it fester.”

“Oh?”

Michael’s head was tilted almost all the way back into his palm, completely unraveling in his touch. It was strange and new all at once. Alex felt more powerful than he could articulate and he couldn’t let go. So he didn’t.

Still, Michael shook his head a little bit and his eyes opened.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Then tell me this,” Alex whispered, tilting his head so that all this small, intelligent, deceivingly powerful version of man he loved could see was him, “What are you capable of?”

“You really wanna know?” Michael asked.

“Yes.”

In the blink of an eye, any wall in Alex’s mind that protected him from psychic evaluation was destroyed, a whirlwind of chaos entering his mind, grabbing him by the metaphorical collar, and yanking him into some place else. Once he got settled into that some place else, Alex realized it was the desert.

Except, not just any place in the desert.

Alex found himself standing in the middle of the crash site, the sand around his feet ever changing. He seemed to be reliving every moment of history that happened in that spot. Flashes of a shattered spaceship, of violence, of military conspiracies, of angered voices, of cold rain on his skin after getting high, of making love in the bed of a truck on hot summer nights, of feeling alone, of future moments that he wasn’t allowed to fully understand. It was overwhelming and Alex felt obscenely overstimulated, every nerve in his body screaming, but his mind, his mind told him he was at peace no matter how much his body disagreed.

In front of him stood Michael, not his Michael, but Michael nonetheless.

“This is only a little bit,” he said, his voice in his head and outside of it and everywhere and nowhere, “I’m not a psychic, I’m not an explosive, but I was trained to be both.”

“You’re a telekinetic,” Alex said and Michael nodded.

“I can use my mind to separate muscles from bones and white blood cells from red without moving,” he said, “And I hate it. I was trained and built to be a weapon. I refuse to be a weapon.”

“I don’t think you’re a weapon,” Alex assured him despite the fear he felt. It was hard to not feel fear when he wasn’t in control. But he would survive. 

“You’re scared of me,” Michael accused.

“No, not of you,” Alex told him and he was being honest, “Thank you for showing me this.”

“I hate what I can do,” Michael said, “I hate this. I hate being a weapon.”

Alex, despite his fear, stepped closer to him. He walked better here than in reality. He put his hand on his shoulder and slid it up into his hair. Was this manipulation? If it was, Michael knew and he didn’t mind, so Alex continued until he was holding him.

“Let me teach you not to hate it. Let’s use it for good. Let’s get my Michael back, okay?” he said. And this Michael nodded.

Soon, Alex was carefully put back into his own mind and they both unintentionally fell into each other, the mindscape draining them both for extremely different reasons. But Alex hugged him and he hugged him back.

They were much closer after that.

-

A few weeks later, things were agonizingly getting back to normal.

Liz went back to focusing on Max, Maria went back to focusing on the bar, Kyle went back to focusing on the hospital, Isobel went back to splitting her time with Max and Michael is allegedly even amounts. Alex was the only one that seemed to still be trying to fix this.

Well, Alex and Michael.

They spent most of the time in the bunker, considering Michael still refused to leave, and Alex was learning a lot about what could’ve been his Michael if things went different. He fluctuated between being completely silent to being really talkative and there seemed to be nothing that indicated which he would be. He’d be excited and loud one second and then, without warning, he’d shut down. Alex didn’t mind it.

They were rebuilding the portal from scratch basically. Other Michael’s theory was that his Michael fucked up the coding and accidentally created an alternate universe portal instead of a time machine and Other Michael created one that was applicable for both, so when they went in at the same time, it swapped them instead of going back in time. Alex could barely wrap his head around it, so he just took it as fact.

It was just slow and Alex only was getting a little bit of information at a time and he was becoming more and more interested in Other Michael’s past. He didn’t even want to know because of his Michael anymore, he was now just really fucking curious.

Context clues told him both Isobel and Max died before they were able to escape and Max died first, but he never told him how. Alex didn’t know how old he was when he got out or how he got out, just that they were cruel and he had to rely on Isobel and Max to stay sane. Alex didn’t know how all those doctors died, only that he went to therapy with the only doctor in the country who knew all of the details because he had been employed but left when he decided it was inhumane. He didn’t know how he got to Manhattan with a list of impressive credentials, only that he had a medicine cabinet that was obscene. He knew so little and he wanted to know everything.

“You know, if you ever want to leave the bunker for any reason, we can,” Alex said, “I know all the places in the town that people don’t go.”

Other Michael shrugged, tugging the blankets around him tighter as he whispered to himself. He did that on bad days. Alex had brought him more blankets when he asked for them and he cocooned himself in blankets and his own sweat. He said it put his mind at ease. To Alex, it seemed like some veiled attempt at replicating contact with another human. He was too awkward to actually offer despite their trip to his mindscape.

Isobel had shown him hers as a comparison and it was only when that happened that he realized just how much of a show off what Michael did was. She struggled even getting into his mind in the first place even when he was being open to her and, whenever she did get inside, she said it was literally impossible to coax him out. He was basically chained inside his brain. Michael was strong enough to break those shackles without any extra effort. It was impressive to say the least.

“Actually…” Michael said, voice small, “Tomorrow night, do you think you could bring me to see Max?”

“You want to see him?” Alex asked, perking up at the idea of getting him out and about. Michael nodded. 

“I want to see the pod too. I haven’t seen one of them since, well, I came out of it,” he said, “Just not today.”

“Yeah, absolutely, we can go. You want me to ask Isobel to be there too?”

“If you could.”

“I can.”

By the time the next night rolled around, Alex gave him a little reassuring pep talk that they wouldn’t run into anyone. It was the middle of the night and he would be fine. A shoulder squeeze solidified their understanding and soon they were climbing up the ladder.

“Oh,” Michael said, “I… I didn’t realize we were beneath a junkyard.”

“Yeah, my Michael lives in that trailer,” Alex said. Michael nodded and took a deep breath. “Feel good to breathe fresh air?”

“Something like that.”

The drive out to the desert to get to where Max was was spent with nothing but the sound of his tires on the road and Michael murmuring to himself. Alex couldn’t tell if he talked to himself quieter when he took his medication or if Alex had just been so on edge when they first met that he seemed to be louder. It didn’t really matter, honestly.

They pulled up next to Isobel’s car. She was already standing outside of it, looking gorgeous for no reason as she waited for them and gave them that charming smile. She was doing good for a woman who had one dead brother and another brother who was stuck in an alternate dimension. Still, she hugged Other Michael like he was the real thing and Alex didn’t know who it benefited more.

Alex hung back for a moment as the kind of siblings walked in to see Max. Isobel had filled Other Michael in more on the logistics of his death before and how they were working on bringing him back to life. While Michael never offered to help, Alex had a suspicion that he probably could be extremely helpful. The problem was that he was scared of himself, of what he could do. All that did was cause Alex to have more questions.

He wanted to help Michael get more comfortable using his powers‒though maybe not as comfortable as his Michael was‒but it was easier said than done. He couldn’t be his therapist, but he could be his friend. So he just had to treat him nicely and hope he realized he wasn’t scary.

Alex leaned against the car and thought about his Michael for the billionth time. He was always on his mind, it was nothing new. Every day that past, it got a little more normal for him to be there and it hurt Alex each time. He was utterly terrified that he would never get him back. And, if he didn’t, what did that mean?

More importantly, if he did, what did that mean?

He missed him and regularly found himself dreaming about him, about them, only to wake up alone. Part of him was wondering if he should get used to this and try to find someone interesting to love. Another part wondered if he should settle for the version of Michael right in front of him who willingly melted into his hands.

Was that wrong?

Eventually, Alex pushed off the car and walked into the cave. Michael and Isobel were both zoned out as they stared at the pod Max was in from their spot sitting on the ground. He was pretty sure they were trying to reach Max in his mindscape to see if there was anything to salvage. 

So Alex sat back and waited and wondered if this was the new normal.

-

“So, I know you’ve been rationing your meds.”

It’d been well over a month and Alex was ready to explode. Other Michael had apparently fixed the fucking portal, but he said they couldn’t try it yet because it wasn’t the right time. Alex was slowly beginning to think it never would be.

When he wasn’t in the bunker, he was with Max. He was still in the pod, but apparently his brain was working well enough that they could bring him into the mindscape. He was getting to know him that way and it seemed to make him feel better. Did it make Alex feel better? Absolutely not, but he was used to that by now.

Now, however, he was ready to be a little selfish and do something that was specifically to benefit him. And that meant learning more.

Michael looked up from the notebook he was always scribbling into and stood up a little straighter. Alex would never get over how strange his thin body looked in clothes that were baggy on even his Michael. 

“So I got you something,” Alex said.

“Another prescription?” Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Sorry, no, but,” Alex said, fishing the joint he’d taken off of Maria out of his pocket, “Maybe this will help?” Michael stared at it blankly, not a single ounce of recognition on his face. Alex laughed. “It’s a joint, you dork. Weed? Marijana? Satan’s gateway to your soul?”

A small smile formed on his face and it was infinitely more innocent than anything his Michael had ever done. Alex was charmed as always. There was just something about him that didn’t make sense. He was both horrifically tortured in his mind in ways no one could imagine while also being relentlessly innocent. It was fascinating.

“Can’t that make me worse?” Michael asked, focusing back on his notebook.

“I mean, possibly,” Alex said, taking a few steps closer, “But it helps a lot of people. Might help you.”

“What happens if I do react badly?” Michael wondered softly, almost like he could tell how close Alex had gotten to him. And, knowing him, he probably could. Alex bumped his shoulder into his.

“Then I’ll be right there,” Alex said. A deep blush rose to his cheeks like it always did and Alex couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.

Michael eventually dropped his pen and he followed him to the air mattress. They both sat down and Michael curled in on himself like always. Alex put the rolled joint between his lips and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

“Wait!” Mciahel said. Alex looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is it safe to do it in an enclosed space?”

“What, you’ve never heard of hotboxing?” Alex asked. Other Michael stared at him until he laughed. “Yes, it’s safe.”

He lit the joint and took a deep breath, trying to force it to calm him faster than he knew was logical. Michael watched him before taking it and trying to copy him. He coughed a few times and Alex laughed before showing him again. Eventually, he was able to take a hit without choking and they relaxed. It was strange to smoke with a different version of his Michael, but, then again, wasn’t everything strange with him?

“You doing okay?” Alex asked him. He nodded his head and Alex reminded himself to take the questions slow. He couldn’t jump right in with the prodding. “Good. My Michael thought he was so cool when we were young ‘cause he smoked.”

“From all the stories you’ve told, I can believe that.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighed, “I miss him.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. Alex shook his head and took another hit.

“Don’t be,” he insisted, “But, uh, do you know exactly when it’ll be ready to go?”

“No,” Michael said. His guilt was obvious in his voice and on his face, but Alex still didn’t understand why. What were they fucking waiting for?

“You sure you’ll know when it’ll be time?” Alex asked as nicely as he could, “Like, what goes into the timing?”

Michael shrugged, “It’s a psychic feeling. I felt it when I came over the first time. It’s like things click because we’re mirroring each other. It’s like, uh, like Deja Vu, I guess, but a little different. I’ll just know because it’ll feel right.”

“Okay,” Alex sighed, “I trust you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alex shook his head again. He did trust him. Granted, he didn’t really have a choice. Not trusting him meant not accepting his help. Alex took a deep breath as he tried to find a way to lead into the topic of his trauma.

“I just, I don’t know. He was with me through so much. So much bad shit has happened and I’ve had him through all of it, it’s hard to go through things without him, you know?” Alex said, tilting his head in Other Michael’s direction. His face got a little serious and he nodded, taking the world’s saddest hit from the joint.

“I know,” he whispered, resting his head against the wall, “I think about my Max and Isobel all the time. I wish I had them here with me.”

“Why didn’t they make it out with you anyway?” Alex asked casually. He knew why.

“Like I said, I’m weak,” Michael said, huffing a sad little laugh. Alex watched him, waiting for him to elaborate without being pushed. Eventually, he did. “Max was ridiculously strong and his specialty was electricity. We were almost 16 when he got in trouble again, he always got in trouble, and they, well, I don’t know what they did. I wasn’t there when they did it, but whatever it was set him off. He shut down the whole building we were in and I remember just hearing people screaming. One of the head doctors ran into the room I was in and grabbed me and we went into the panic room. We were in there for, like, three hours at least. When we came out, half the staff had been scorched to death, nothing left but ashes, and Max’s system had given out because of over use.”

“Jesus,” Alex breathed. Michael looked up, blinking away tears from his eyes and he swallowed hard.

“Isobel and I made a deal after that. We’d stick together. Be on our best behavior and wait for a way out,” Michael said definitively, nodding his head, “And we were. We kept getting stronger which they liked. Then they started letting us in on what the plans were. We were going to be military weapons. Who needs nuclear bombs when you can just introduce a pretty white girl to a foreign city and then have her single handedly annihilate all of them.” Michael shook his head and scoffed. “Neither of us bought into it, but it hurt to hear. Isobel got upset when we were 18 and said she refused which meant she got punished. But she fought back. I remember they dragged her away kicking and screaming and I just sat there and let them. I just… sat there and let them. I didn’t even try to help. She didn’t come back.”

“What do you mean she didn’t come back? What did they tell you happened to her?” Alex asked. Michael smiled sadly.

“They didn’t. If I asked, I got in trouble. If I said her name, I got punished. So I stopped saying her name,” Michael said. Alex started to feel really bad about trying to learn about this. “They started being really hard on me after that ‘cause I was the only one left.”

“How did you get away?” Alex asked softly.

“Told you, I’m weak,” he said, sighing and graciously taking the joint from Alex’s fingers, “I did what they said until someone else came in to help me. Dr. Wyatt snuck in to help me escape, but I was too scared. But he promised he’d help me, I just had to help him. He told me what to do. I just did the dirty work.” Michael moved his finger in a circle and tilted his head to the side as if to insinuate that he killed them all.

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed. 

“But Dr. Wyatt put me through school and therapy and helped me get a job, got me out of New Mexico, made me a citizen because I wasn’t documented before,” Michael said, shrugging his shoulder, “So I deal. Even if I can’t talk to the gorgeous barista that has my order memorized.”

Alex tried to force a soft laugh even though his heart felt heavy with his admissions. It felt even heavier whenever Alex immediately started wondering what kind of testing they did on him. He was pretty sure he could keep those to himself, though. 

On a happy note, though, this was more than Other Michael ever talked. Maybe he should get him high more often.

“Well, you’re talking to someone like him now,” Alex pointed out. Michael lulled his head to face him and, for the first time, made eye contact. 

“I missed out on so much, though,” Michael said, “A childhood, social interaction, everything. I can’t go anywhere without thinking about it for days first or already knowing how it works. I eat the same things, I go to the same places, I do the same things. I got out of a prison, but I’m still so stuck in a routine that I can’t shake. You know I’m almost 29 and I’ve never even been kissed?”

Alex looked at every inch of his face, taking in every similarity and every difference from his Michael. He was so distinctly different. There was no confusing them for one another no matter how hard he tried.

“I can be your first kiss,” Alex offered. Michael’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “Seriously, I can. It’s not like it’d be weird. It would be more to, you know, get it out of the way with someone who has pretty much already kissed you.”

Michael swallowed and looked everywhere except Alex. Until he did.

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yeah.

Michael’s face was still red. Alex just grinned at him. This he could do. It wouldn’t fix all the bad things he dragged up, but it would be a happy little release at the end of the conversation. They both took one last hit off the joint before Alex stubbed it out and turned to the man in question. He reached up and put his hand on his cheek, feeling how he felt so hot it damn near burned his skin.

When Alex tried to press a kiss to his lips, he just met tense, overly puckered lips. He tried not to laugh as he sat there, hoping Michael would stop having his mouth like that. However, that didn’t happen and they both pulled away with a laugh.

“You need to relax,” Alex told him, laughing easily and using his thumb to rub all the tension out of his lips. Michael was so red he was probably about to pass out from lightheadedness. 

“I wasn’t ready,” he laughed, lying through his teeth before he told the truth, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t think about it too hard, just channel your inner Drew Barrymore and be kissable,” Alex told him. Michael’s eyes went comically wide.

“What does that even mean?”

“Oh my god, you’re so uncultured, we’re watching Never Been Kissed after this,” Alex said, scooting closer. Michael laughed genuinely for probably the first time ever and Alex took that as his sign. He closed the space between them again and it went a lot smoother that time since he was relaxed. 

Alex led the way, but he took it slow and Michael followed at the same pace. Michael lifted his hand and gently gripped his arm, pulling him close. It definitely didn’t feel like his Michael. There was no big spark, no mind-numbing perfection, no desire to keep him there or his life would fall apart in his wake. But it wasn’t bad. It was like kissing a friend.

The kiss slowly ended and they stayed close. Alex was about to make a joke again, but Michael, surprising him for another time that night, spoke first.

“Can you help me with something?” Michael asked.

“You know I will.”

“Can you get me a dead car battery?” 

Alex raised an eyebrow as he pulled away, but he couldn’t say no to his eager face so just said yes.

Within the next 24 hours, Alex found himself watching an impressive act. Michael used his hands as defibrillators. He didn’t scream like Max, he just focused and did it. When Max breathed his first breath of life again, Michael quickly turned his attention to the car battery. All of the negative energy that came from that was then transferred into something meant to hold electricity instead of letting it fester. 

Alex didn’t have the words for how proud he was.

-

“Are you going to miss him when he’s gone?”

“Yeah, but I want the real Michael back.”

Alex dipped his fry into his milkshake, feeling extra tired. He’d been a little too okay recently. He and Other Michael were good friends and they talked a lot. Alex ended up telling him his life story out of guilt for prying out his and they bonded over their trauma. It was nice to have someone to talk to and who talked back and there was no pity.

But then it hit him that he was still very lonely and that note that was just a ton of I love yous still was beneath the pillow where he still slept in his ex-boyfriend’s bed after two goddamn months. So now he was sad and longing for Michael to be back even though he felt guilty for wanting to send Other Michael back to a place where he would be alone.

“What are you going to do when he comes back? Just act like you guys weren’t fighting before he left?” Isobel asked. Alex sighed slowly and shrugged his shoulders.

“No, we’re gonna talk. I’ve really learned how to talk recently,” Alex admitted. Isobel raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. “I have.”

“With the Other Michael?”

“Yeah, with him,” he said, “Maybe that’s what he’s here for.”

“To teach you how to talk to another person?”

“Yes.”

Isobel just laughed to herself, but she didn’t argue. They both finished up their meal and started to head back to the bunker where Max already was. However, they were shocked when they got into the bunker and Michael looked at them with wild eyes.

“It’s time,” he said, “I can feel it, it’s time.”

And things moved too fast. Michael started turning knobs and Max and Isobel called Liz and Maria. It was all too fast, so fast Alex barely found time to grab Other Michael’s arm and stop him so they could talk.

“Are you gonna stop long enough to say goodbye?” Alex asked. Michael looked at him with wide eyes.

“But it’s time,” he said, “Aren’t you ready to get him back?”

“Yes,” Alex said honestly, “But you still have to say goodbye. I mean, we’ve spent two months together. Are you even ready to go home? Are you going to be okay?”

Michael gave a small smile and he nodded, eyes not quite on Alex’s but close enough.

“I’ll be okay,” he told him, “All I wanted was to see Max and Isobel again and I have. And this version of them is happier than the ones I would’ve met if I went back in my own timeline. So I think it was fate.”

“But aren’t you going to be lonely?” Alex asked. He didn’t know why he was asking. He didn’t know why it sounded like he didn’t want him to go. Michael just pulled him into a hug that Alex reciprocated easily.

“I think I’m finally gonna talk to that barista,” Michael said softly. Alex huffed a laugh and squeezed him.

“I hope it works out.”

“I know it will,” Michael insisted, “I’m meant for him like your Michael’s meant for you. I can feel it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m a lot of things, but wrong is rarely one of them.”

With a laugh, Alex pulled away and did his best not to cry. He still wasn’t sure why he was so upset. It was just… so fast. And yet not fast enough.

Michael said his goodbyes and then, in the most unceremonious of fashions, stepped through the portal.

And another stepped back out.

Alex lunged forward to catch him, checking over his body for any sign that he was hurt and they clung to each other. It was unreal how much he could feel that it was his man just by the way his body felt against his. He missed him more than he had words for.

Very reluctantly Alex let everyone hug him too and, for the next few hours, just hovered close as they all caught up with him after only a few minutes alone. It wasn’t enough. He needed hours alone with him. Days. Weeks.

There was so much lost time and he was okay. He wasn’t taking this for granted again. He refused.

That night, they found themselves in the airstream and Michael immediately noticed that Alex had been staying there.

“That is weirdly romantic,” Michael, his Michael, said as he sat on the bed. Alex laughed and just reached out to touch his face. Michael leaned into it just like the Other Michael, but it felt different. It was different. This… this was cosmic.

“I love you,” Alex admitted.

“And I love you,” he said, tugging his hips down to his lap. Alex immediately kissed him and it felt like breathing again at the feeling of his lips. When they laid back, though, it was impossible to miss the crinkling of that note. 

Michael reached for it and an embarrassed expression fell over his features as he realized what it was. Alex just took it and leaned in for another kiss. That note had kept him going for the last two months and he was going to treasure it. It was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I’ve learned a thing or two since you left,” Alex said, “And one of them was all about talking through shit. Saw the other version of you do a lot of extraordinary things after talking through shit. So we’re going to do that, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael said, his tone telling him to continue.

“And in this note you said you’d treat me better in another life. Can’t it be this one?”

Michael stared up at him, something in his eyes that Alex couldn’t quite place. He hoped that he one day would be able to place it.

But, for right now, he was happy that he was home.

“It will be this one. But it’s you, Alex, it’s always been you.”

And, between him and the Other Michael, Alex knew it was the truth.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sunshine City: Three

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read/reblogged/commented on the last chapter. You are all lovely and deserve a Whiskey of your own. This chapter still revolves around the plot of the film, so if you have any questions just let me know! I hope this little story can make you smile at least for a moment. My asks and DMs are always open.

Pairing: (Eventual) Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 5.7k

Rating For This Chapter: T for guns, blood, injuries

Catch up on the Prologue, Chapters One, and Two here!

Y/N sat at the bar and ordered a cranberry juice.

Butterfly Guy was sitting with Eggsy, Whiskey, and a guy who insisted on being called Merlin in a booth near the window.

“Rough day, sugar?” Paula the bartender asked as she set down the cloudy glass filled with purple-red juice.

“Rough couple of days,” she muttered and handed over a handful of crumpled bills that Paula methodically straightened out before placing them in the till. Paula was basically an agent in her own right. She’d been part of the bar for nearly twenty years and since only Statesmen drank here and knew of its existence, they spoke freely about their work. She probably knew more classified intel than some junior agents.

“You sure I can’t get you anything stronger?” She asked, her bleach blonde hair swiping over her shoulders. “Something with a little more oomph?”

“Just the cranberry juice for now.” She smiled and sipped on the too-bitter drink and resisted puckering her lips at the taste. “But thank you.”

Paula nodded and cast a glance at the table where the agents sat. “You know, Whiskey keeps lookin’ over here.”

She ignored the twisting in her stomach and took a large gulp. “ ‘s just post-mission jitters.”

“Uh-huh,” Paula said with a roll of her eyes. “Sure. When a handsome man looks at me like that…” she drifted off with a raise of her eyebrows.

(But she wouldn’t deny that she noticed Whiskey looking at her a little more often. When they met up after she implanted the tracker in Clara, she noticed Whiskey kept turning away every so often, a hand tucked in his front pocket. It was a common gesture used by men to hide an erection, she knew that—she just didn’t believe he would have one at that moment. They were in the middle of a mission. There was no way he was hiding a boner. But the thought was fun.)

Thankfully, Agent Moonshine started hollering and she sighed into her drink and got up from her barstool and walked behind the bar.

Paula was watching the scene unfold like she hadn’t watched a million bar fights before and looked ready to piss herself. Sunny patted her on the shoulder and signaled for her to hide in the little cubby beneath the register.

The Butterfly Guy quickly made a fool of himself, trying to teach Moonshine and his buddies some manners and she leaned against the sticky bar to watch as Whiskey stood from his seat. It wasn’t the first time she would watch Whiskey kick Moonshine’s ass but it was always fun to witness.

And those tight jeans did wonders for his butt.

While she would never understand his affinity for his lasso or his whip, it was nice to watch him work (and to see Moonshine bleed a little).

As he finished, Moonshine and his hangers-on all unconscious or bleeding enough to keep them still, Whiskey adjusted his hat and let out a whistle. “I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.”

She snorted and finished her drink as Paula slowly came out from the cubby and gaped at the mess. “It looks like a tornado came through here, boss. I think you owe Paula another window.”

“And new glasses!” Paula said with a frown.

She patted Paula’s shoulder again with a promise that the window would be fixed within a handful of hours as the televisions switched from the football game and were overtaken by a wash of yellow and red with an obnoxious chime.

A woman draped in a horrendous yellow outfit with fiery red hair soon filled the screens. “Mr. President, my name is Poppy Adams. I believe the UN has no teeth. So I've selected you, as leader of the free world, to receive this communication. And I invite you to begin negotiations on the largest scale hostage situation in history. A few weeks ago, an engineered virus was released and contained in all varieties of my product: cannabis, cocaine, heroin, opium, ecstasy, and crystal meth.” Each line item popped up on the screen in a pretty font. Cap looked over to see Whiskey already looking at her, lips pulled into a frown. “Some of you are already infected. And this is what you can expect in the coming days. After a brief incubation period, victims present with stage one symptoms: a blue rash. Next, second stage symptoms appear: mania, as the virus enters the brain. Very distressing to the victim and those around them. Stage three: paralysis. Muscles enter a state of catastrophic seizure. And once the muscles of the thorax become affected, breathing becomes impossible.” She watched as one new victim after another was revealed on the screen until blood spurted out of the last man’s eyes and nose, dead for millions to witness. “This leads to a very nasty death within 12 hours. But I have good news to the millions already affected. It doesn't have to be this way. I have an antidote.” Poppy held up a clear vial filled with an amber liquid—and Elton John behind another glass wall.

“What have you done to me, you fucking bitch?” God bless Elton John.

Undeterred by Elton John’s outburst, Poppy continued, “100% effective and ready to ship out worldwide at a moment's notice. I will do this if the following conditions are met. First, you agree to end the war on drugs, once and for all. All classes of substance are legalized paving the way to a new marketplace in which sales are regulated and taxed just like alcohol. And second, my colleagues and I receive full legal immunity. Meet my terms. I look forward to helping you keep our beloved country great, boosting our ailing economy, and easing spending on law enforcement. Or continue this blinkered, outmoded, and, frankly, disastrous exercise in prohibition, and live with blood on your hands. Save lives. Legalize.”

The broadcast ended and the televisions screens quickly flipped back to the football game. Whiskey was at her side in a blink of an eye. His hand brushed down her back. “We gotta talk to Champ, Sunny.”

And that was how she found herself bundled in winter gear on an Italian mountainside. Clara had called Charlie, and thanks to the tracking device she had implanted at Glastonbury, they were able to pick up the conversation. Charlie told Clara (who was now covered in the blue rash) to meet him at the ski resort they’d visited last year so he could give her the antidote. The tracking device could pinpoint their exact location and everyone was betting that the Italian resort was one of the storehouses for the antidote.

But she was also wondering, once again, why she found Whiskey attractive. He was in a terrible blue and white snowsuit that had to have been made in the 1970s. And he still refused to take off his damned cowboy hat. She appreciated the dedication to his aesthetic but it still seemed…ridiculous.

And he’d been grating on her last nerve on the flight over.

Ginger had buzzed in and suggested that Cap be the one to retrieve the antidote because only Clara would recognize her as opposed to Charlie possibly recognizing Eggsy or Butterfly Man (who she was told to call either Galahad or Harry). Whiskey then laughed—loudly—and stated plainly that he would be planning the mission and Ginger should stick to her computers and gadgets. “It isn’t like ya have any experience in the field.”

She really thought about murdering her boss for the rest of the flight. Her plots to kill him only got more creative when he told her to stay at the safe-house when they landed.

She was tired. She was angry.

And that was probably why she finally snapped. “If you didn’t want me to come along, you could have just told Champ. God knows you don’t listen to anyone else.” She hefted her bag filled with her own weapons and ammo higher onto her shoulder and turned away from him, readying to hike up toward the house and stew in her lonesome until the three men returned—hopefully with the antidote in hand.

But his hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop before she could get very far. “That ain’t fair, Sunny.”

She pulled out of his grip with a poorly hidden snarl. “No. You’re not fair. To me. To Ginger. All because of some bullshit you think is right.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve been in this game a long time-”

“And I’ve been in it longer-”

“-and I can take care of myself. What you’re doing to Ginger is so fucking backwards I’m surprised you can see straight,” she hissed it out like a curse. “I’m tired, Whiskey. I’m so tired of watching her jump through hoops trying to get you to notice that she could outperform half the agents in the field and you want her stuck behind the desk until she dies. I’m tired of you thinking you know best in the field. Why do you even request me to go with you if you’re going to undermine me every step of the way?”

Whiskey’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Her shoulders slumped. Harry and Eggsy both looked like they were very interested in the calibrations of their earpieces and not listening to what just happened. God this whole situation was pathetic. They were trying to save the world and she was waffling between yearning and rage for her stupid boss. She trudged away in the snow toward the safe house and barely heard Whiskey say, “what are you lookin’ at, Butterfly Guy?”

But she continued on, up the mountain and found the small shack of a house and swept the perimeter before settling in. She comm’ed in only to say she reached the safe house. Eggsy responded cheerfully but she didn’t respond when Whiskey also chimed in with a, “good work, Sunny.”

Time ticked by.

There was a commotion on the other end of the comm line when Butterfly Guy wouldn’t respond—and then all she heard was Eggsy and Whiskey screaming. She rolled her eyes. They were so dramatic. But soon, the trio was making their way toward the safe-house and she didn’t bother to open the door when she heard them outside. They all hobbled in, mid-argument.

Eggsy pulled out a small vial and showed it to her with a smile she had to reciprocate. “You got it.”

“We did. A little dicey—Charlie recognized me.”

She glanced at Whiskey who frowned in return. It didn’t matter. Ginger had been right and now he knew it.

“Can I see it, kid?” Whiskey asked with his hand outstretched as he walked toward them. But then his dark eyes tracked to the window and widened. “Get down!” Whiskey all but tackled both Eggsy and her to the dusty ground of the house as bullets started to fly. Glass shattered. Wood splintered.

She watched, unable to do anything from her pinned position, as the small vial was all but knocked from Eggsy’s hand and shattered on the ground.

“You fucking dickhead!” Eggsy hollered as he scrambled out from under Whiskey to look over the spilled antidote, almost uncaring of the bullets whizzing by.

“Fuck you, I just saved your life!” Whiskey retorted.

“Yeah, and cost millions of people theirs!”

She had to slap at Whiskey’s thigh to get him to move off her and she rolled off into the corner when he did. The rain of bullets stopped for a moment and she looked out the window. “They’re reloading.”

Whiskey nodded. “All right, I'll fix their wagons. Cover me, boys!” And then he all but bolted out of the house, guns blazing.

With a roll of her eyes, ignoring how Whiskey had told the ‘boys’ to cover him, she followed suit and ran out into the snow, pulling her guns out from their holsters. The shootout was nothing she hadn’t seen before and, while she didn’t have all the flair most of the Statesmen agents had, she could mow down people just as efficiently. (The acrobatics the Statesmen and Kingsman agents seemed so fond of really just seemed…excessive.)

Whiskey went through the left flank so she went through the unlucky men on the right.

It was easy pickings, really. Despite the heavy artillery and uneven numbers, it was almost too simple of a gunfight. But the adrenaline rush was nice. It had been too long since she had felt her heart beat this fast. Bullets were flying by her head as she dove behind a tree and then twisted to shoot down the other man. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Whiskey pull out his electric lasso and then cut a man in half who came out with a knife.

“Fucking ridiculous,” she muttered as she stood, lowering her guns and quietly thankful that Whiskey wasn’t hurt.

There was a single gunshot and she froze. A familiar cold crept up her torso and one last man stepped out from the tree line with his gun raised right in her direction. The barrel smoked. But his eyes were wide like he couldn’t quite understand that he’d actually managed to shoot her. With a snarl, she pulled her guns up again and fired twice, painting the trees and snow behind him in a spattering of red.

“Sunny!” Whiskey yelled as he spotted her.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt the terrible, wet warmth soak her palm. She holstered her guns again and stepped out to look at him, turning ever so slightly to hide the blossoming red from him. “We’re good.”

“You should’ve stayed in the house.”

“You needed back up!” She said, marching toward the house despite feeling her legs shake. Pressing against the wound only made bile rise in her throat.

“The kid and Butterfly Guy-”

“It’s over, boss. Let’s just-”

Whiskey suddenly grabbed at her waist and all but threw her into the house and she nearly lost her footing. She barely had time to recognize the pain suddenly roaring through her system as the adrenaline started to fade.

“Troop carrier coming in. And I’m out of ammo—whaddya got?” He asked, pointedly looking at Eggsy and Harry.

But they were both looking at Whiskey’s hand.

He slowly raised it to his face and saw it covered in blood. His head snapped to the side to look at her. “Sunny?”

Her knees finally buckled and she hit the weathered wood. She shakily caught herself with her other hand, feeling blood slip between her fingers. She coughed and watched as blood splattered against the wood.

“They’ve got Gatling guns!”

Whiskey was yelling. Bullets whizzed by. And the beat of her heart started to drown out everything else.

“Harry, no!” She barely heard Eggsy shout.

And then, in her quickly-hazing vision, she watched Whiskey’s body crumple to the floor beside hers. She reached out a bloody hand toward him without thinking, pressing crimson-colored fingers against his face as if that would stop the bleeding.

“He broke the vial on purpose, Eggsy. If we made it out of here, he was gonna kill us both!”

The world went dark.  

                                                     **

The sterile scent of HQ’s medical wing was a welcoming aroma as her eyes opened.

“There you are.” Ginger leaned over her with a soft smile. “How ya feeling?”

“Tired.”

“No pain?” She asked as she helped Cap sit up slowly.

“A bit tender—but I know what feeling shot in the chest feels like so I would prefer this.” She pulled at the bland, cotton-blend shirt she was dressed in and saw her stomach covered in a bit of gauze and tape. Despite Ginger telling her not to, she pulled at the coverings to reveal the mostly-healed bullet wound and then pushed back into the pillows. It looked like it had already been healing for weeks instead of a day or two. Statesmen truly knew how to patch someone up. But then a thought struck her. “Where’s Whiskey?”

And Ginger’s soft, answering smile calmed her suddenly clenching heart. “He’s in the next room over, Cap. He’ll wake up soon. Eggsy gave him the Alpha Gel and it worked like it was supposed to.”

She pushed out a long breath through her nose and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

Ginger’s watch beeped. She looked at the small screen and sighed. “I will be back. Don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I promise nothing.”

Ginger chuckled, having heard that answer many times before, and let herself out of the room. 

She let herself stew for a moment (it was really about an hour). Her life had really gone off the rails since Vegas. It was one thing to secretly harbor amorous thoughts about your boss. It was another to scream at him, get shot, and then see him get shot after seeing him (possibly) thwart any efforts to get the antidote and save millions of people. And she had a chance to say something to Ginger. But she didn’t.

Hm.

She carefully slid off the bed and winced when a bolt of pain zig-zagged through her body as her feet touched the cold floor. Shuffling over to the door, she peered out into the hallway and then stepped out. Whiskey’s holding room was only a few footsteps away.

Should she go in? But then what would she say?

Should she just go back to her room and pretend she was unconscious the entire time and remembered exactly nothing from Italy? But what was she trying to forget anyway?

But, thankfully, Eggsy found her in the middle of the hall and broke her rambling thoughts. He pocketed his phone and looked a bit worried as he noticed her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Better than I should be after being shot. You?”

He started to nod but then shook his head. “My girlfriend…she, uh, she’s got the blue rash.” He rubbed at his forehead.

“You care about her. Probably more than you should, right?” That was easy to see. Eggsy was a good kid, probably a little too easy to read. “Especially in this line of work.”

“You get it—Kingsmen aren’t allowed to have attachments. And I…” he tried to grasp at the words he needed, “love her.”

“Statesmen doesn’t have that rule. Probably because we’re very bad at following any sort of guideline anyway.” She shrugged and regretted the movement as it pulled at her wound. “But that means you’ve got less than 12 hours. You got a plan?”

Eggsy quickly explained that they had been able to trace Poppy’s location to Cambodia and they were heading out there now. But his eyes quickly widened as he realized he had just revealed a plan to a potentially dangerous adversary.

“Relax, Eggsy. I’m not the one you shot in the head.” She waved him on. “Go. Save the world. Look out for landmines.”

“Landmines?” Eggsy parroted, face scrunching into a confused frown.

“If Poppy’s as crazy as I think she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has nonsense like that. Who knows? Maybe she has a fleet of man-eating robots, too.”

“What are you on about?”

She shook her head. “I’ve seen some stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

He smiled and started to walk away. “You should come to London when this is all over. I’ll get you a drink!”

She smiled a bit and watched him disappear around a corner before her eyes once again drifted toward Whiskey’s door. “…fuck.” Against her better judgement, she walked up and let the door glide open without a sound. The room was quiet. Whiskey was motionless on the bed, face still covered by the machine to help the Alpha Gel finish its work. His vitals were steady, displayed on large screens across the wall.

He would be fine.

He would be fine.

He would be fine.

She slipped gingerly into a chair near the bed and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hand. He just looked so…vulnerable. It was so unlike him. An angry, terrible twisting pulled at her chest. “I’m not sorry I yelled at you, you know.” She wasn’t sure why she was talking to him but the words kept coming anyway. “You need to let Ginger out in the field. She’d be a better agent than me. I don’t know why you’re… I don’t understand you at all, actually. I wish I did, I think. I wish I could understand you and why you do things and say things. I wish I could understand why you make me feel so stupid.”

Maybe being this close to death—again—was making her sentimental. Or maybe the pain medication was making her crazy.

Probably the second option. Hopefully, anyway.

The door opened again and Ginger stepped in. “I knew I’d find you in here.”

“How’d you figure that?”

Ginger gave her a look but didn’t answer. “It is about time we wake him up. You remember how it’s like, right?”

She nodded. She had heard stories about how most agents needed a ‘reminder’ of a traumatic event to bring them back to the present and how their minds could be a bit foggy for a few days after, but she had never seen it in person. But she basically knew what to except--right? 

With a flip of a few switches, the machine receded and Whiskey’s eyes opened. He was up and off the bed with a spring in his gait that had her laughing as he gave some terrible pick-up line to Ginger. But the laugh drew his attention and his body went rigid as his eyes landed on her. “Sunny.”

She felt tension she didn’t realize she was holding leech from her shoulders as he smiled at her. “Hey, boss.”

Ginger tucked something back in her pocket and her smile seemed to reach her ears. “I’ll leave you two…alone. But I’m just outside if you need anything.” She then scurried out and left her alone with Whiskey and her hammering heart.

“Sunshine.” The new nickname was all but crushing to her heart, caving in her chest.

She waved him back to the bed and told him to rest before she curled her fingers around his hand. It was warm and calloused and, as cliché as it sounded, seemed to fit hers perfectly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot in the head.”

She almost laughed and her other hand carefully pushed his still-impeccably styled hair away from the bandage covering a small bit of his temple. “Yeah. You look great for a dead man, though.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” But he said it with a smile and squeezed her hand. “Say it again.”

“You look great.” And her smile grew, heart a little lighter.

He huffed out a laugh but then a long silence stretched between them. She looked away from his dark eyes but didn’t pull her hand away from his, fearing he’d disappear if she did.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sunshine?” He squeezed at her hand until she looked at him again.

“I’m okay. They fixed me up just fine. A new scar for the collection.”

His smile slowly dropped and he placed his other hand over hers, too. “I saw you drop. You were bleedin’ out and I-”

“I saw you get shot, too, you know. Butterfly Guy has an interesting way of showing he doesn’t trust someone.” She shook the thought away. Harry’s brain was scrambled, too. “I’m just happy you’re okay. Your brain might feel a bit funny for a day or two, but I’ll be here.”  

“Where are they now? The Brits?”

“They’re on their way to Cambodia. They think they’ve found Poppy’s base.”

Whiskey all but yanked his hands from hers and threw his legs over the side of the bed before standing on his long legs. She quickly stood too, chair clattering backward. “We’ve gotta go. Tell Ginger to get the Silver Pony on the runway.” He started toward the door before she grabbed at his arm.

“Boss, c’mon. You need to rest-”

“I need to make sure that bitch doesn’t get what she wants.”

She was scrambling then, hands pawing up his arm to grasp at his face. Her heart was in her throat as she looked at him. His dark eyes looked so cold. Unfocused. She knew the Alpha Gel could scramble someone’s brain as it physically repaired it, pushing them into old habits and thoughts and fears. She knew Whiskey wasn’t thinking right at the moment—no matter how soft he had been with her moments ago, this wasn’t her Whiskey. Her mouth went dry. Thoughts raced by as the pit she had felt growing in her stomach expanded to an abyss. She knew what he’d been through. The death of his wife at the hands of some coked-out druggies was an open secret. And she knew her own grief, dealt with it in her own way—not all of it healthy, she knew. But she had to try. She knew the look of a man who wanted vengeance no matter the cost—and, right now, the cost was millions of lives. “Do you know why I don’t drink?”

“We don’t have time for this,” he said as he pulled out of her grip.

“Drunk driver plowed into my dad’s car. I was at the local pool with some friends and Dad piled everyone in to pick me up so we could get ice cream after. They never made it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think I hold it against everyone who likes to put a little something extra in their coffee? Likes to have a little liquid courage to talk to the cute guy across the bar?”

Whiskey’s face twisted and his eyes seemed to dilate before he scrunched them shut. A shaking hand pushed through his hair.

“I work at a distillery for a man named Whiskey.”

Another silence stretched between them. She would swear he could hear her heartbeat in the quiet of the room.

A careful hand reached out to touch his wrist, too afraid to do much else. “Stay,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

And his eyes finally opened.

                                                        **

Champ smiled and congratulated them on a job well done. It was a week since the entire Golden Circle situation had been handled. Tequila was well. Whiskey’s mind was clear. And their profits had never been higher.

Merlin, Harry, and Eggsy were standing at the end of the table and each held a glass of amber liquid as everyone raised a toast. Whiskey was sitting across from his Sunny, golden glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He probably should have been listening to what was Champ was saying but all he could see was how she licked her lips after taking a sip of her cranberry juice.

Statesmen, knowing an ally when they saw one, had purchased a distillery in Scotland. It was the perfect guise to help Kingsman rebuild and keep their money looking “clean.” Yes, he should have listened.

Because the Kid opened his mouth and said Kingsman needed more agents.

“I think Ginger would be a great Kingsman,” Sunny said with a smile.

Ginger, tucked into a corner a drink of her own, smiled in return. “I…”

“Agreed,” Whiskey heard himself saying. And he quickly realized that he meant it. 

Ginger’s eyes went wide and she nearly sloshed the entirety of her drink across her shirt.

Champ laughed. “Alrighty then. Ginger Ale, well, I guess you’ll get a new code name, won’t ya?”

But the Kid’s smile widened. “And I was thinking Cap could come, too.” He turned to her and shrugged a shoulder. “Whaddya say, Cap? I’ll show you the real London.”

Whiskey looked at her, feeling like someone had shoved their fist down his throat. Don’t go. Don’t leave.

“I always wanted to be a knight of the round table.”

The men at the end of the table cheered again and Ginger walked over to knock their glasses together.

And while everyone continued to pat themselves on the back for completing the mission, all he could feel was cold.

The revelry eventually died down and Whiskey found himself the last one seated at the table. Everyone else filtered out to ready for the next mission—or the move to London. It was just him and Champ. The older man plopped down in the seat beside him and refilled his empty glass.

“London is only a few hours by plane from New York.”

He took a long pull from his glass.

“I’ve never known you to wait for something you wanted, Whiskey. But sure seemed to drag your ass on this one.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Champ?” He finally asked after another large gulp of alcohol.

But Champ just shook his head with a throaty chuckle. “You two are a mess.”

                                                     **

Royal weddings were…an event, she was finding.

After nearly losing Princess Tilde to the Golden Circle, Eggsy actually proposed. And with Harry now known as Arthur and presiding over Kingsman, the rules changed. Attachments were allowed. And because Tilde knew his fellow Kingsman were like Eggsy’s family, they were invited to the wedding. A handful of Statesmen, too. It had been a year since Poppy’s demise in Cambodia and the world was (mostly) at peace. Kingsman managed to salvage quite a bit from the wreckage of their former bases and Statesmen funded the rest of their necessary rebuilds. It was slow-going, and a handful of new agents were still finding their footing after graduating from the selection process.

“Please tell me Tequila is not wearing jeans,” she muttered.

Ginger, now known as Agent Percival, rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile as she spotted the jean-clad man amid the rest of the American crowd. “I could but that would be a lie.” She paused. “But Whiskey certainly dressed for the occasion.”

She leaned forward just the slightest bit to see Whiskey dressed in a fine tuxedo. “Is that one of ours?”

Ginger hummed. “He came in a few days ago for a fitting.”

She swallowed the saliva filling her mouth and turned back to watch Eggsy nervously fidget with his cufflinks at the end of the aisle. “Looks good.”

The ceremony finished after the vows and a bit of perfunctory reading and singing before the guests were all chauffeured over to the reception space at the royal palace. “You know, Merlin told me that you and Whiskey are quite fond of using emojis in your emails,” Ginger said as dinner was cleared away and dessert started to be served. 

Her glass of water nearly slipped from her grip as embarrassment washed over her. “I was told those were private.”

“Nothing’s private in our line of work,” Ginger said with a pat to her hand. “But you haven’t really explained what is going on between you two.”

She rubbed at her temples. How could she possibly explain that she knew Whiskey, while his brain was still scrambled, wanted to let everyone infected with the Blue Rash die? How could she explain that she, despite all that, missed his smile and stupid mustache? Missed how he had terrible pick-up lines that always made her roll her eyes? Missed how she always seemed a little lighter whenever he would waltz into her office in New York?

Their constant contact devolved away from work and missions and into their private lives. He would ask after Bela and she would ask him to tell her about the view from his office window. It was now a strange sort of friendship that she treasured and protected despite how they hadn’t seen each other in person in over a year. She had taken the position at Kingsman, took the code name Agent Mordred, moved to London. It should have been a clean break. She could have kept their communications purely professional. But she didn’t. She just couldn’t truly let him go.

But on the outside, she shrugged as her hands dropped away from her face.

“It looks like I’ll be able to see for myself because he’s on his way over here.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Ginger’s smug tone and, sure enough, Whiskey was on his way over, walking through the dancing crowd and wandering guests, right toward their table.

“But oh no. Would you look at that, I need more champagne.” Ginger then scampered off and left her alone.

Whiskey easily took Ginger’s vacated seat and smiled at her. “Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hey, bos-Whiskey.”

He chuckled at her slip. His head tilted to the side as he looked at her, eyes trailing down her form and she resisted a shiver like a teenaged girl but was silently thankful for the designer dress that fit her like a glove in a soft blue silk. “You look good.”

“You too.” And he did. The tuxedo was impeccably cut and the darkest black. A pristine white shirt was held back with a matching cummerbund and a black bowtie was slightly crooked around his neck. She reached out and straightened it.

He reached up to keep her hand pressed against his chest with a small smile. “I miss you.” It was whispered like a secret.

“We talk every day.” But she didn’t pull her hand away.

“ ‘s not the same and you know it.” He squeezed her hand. “Dance with me?” Wordlessly, he led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her close.

His expensive cologne made her mind swim but she resisted the urge to rest her cheek against his shoulder despite every nerve in her body telling her to do so. The music was slow, soft, and romantic. The lighting was low and accentuated by flickering candles that danced across the golden walls of the royal ballroom. If she could let herself remember anything—it would be this moment. Held in the arms of the man she loved even if it was just for a tiny sliver of time.

“I never thanked you, you know.”

“For what?”

“Saving me. My head was a mess—even before Butterfly Guy put a bullet in it. It took me a while but I…” He shook his head. “You’ve given me a second chance.”

She cocked her head to the side with a smile. “To save the world?”

Whiskey’s smile was small and his cheeks reddened the slightest bit but his dark eyes never left her face. His grip on her hand and waist tightened the slightest bit. “A second chance at everything.”

She chuckled and ignored how her chest tightened. Reading into it would only make it hurt.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm​ @honestlystop​ @paryl​ @fioccodineveautunnale @lackofhonor

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip​

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed!  So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’. 

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It��s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

[mst3kproject]

The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator.  And racism.  You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick.  I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’.  He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living.  Naturally it’s not as simple as that.  Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight.  Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all.  Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it.  Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first.  The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny.  There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever.  The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river.  The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless.  Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie.  The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss.  This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile.  It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’.  There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it?  All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen.  We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others.  They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals.  Holy shit.  I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t.  Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie.  Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped.  We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him).  We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive.  Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight.  The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it.  The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle.  Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people.  Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims.  These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves.  The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there.  The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too.  By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages.  They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave.  Is it really that easy to kill a god?  Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway?  Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism.  One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle.  Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them.  You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’.  You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat.  Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature.  Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out.  The Kuma literally say as much.  So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end?  Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian?  I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room.  Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle).  Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can.  You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year.  I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie.  I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed.  Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce.  Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it.  The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist.  I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 32

Tony had started to shake next to me. He was livid and I couldn't blame him. I would be too if I was him. He lunged for James but Steve was quick to grab him. I just stood staring at the now blank screen.

"No, Tony" Steve whispered.

"Did you know?" Tony asked quietly turning to face Steve.

"I didn't know it was him." Steve said simply.

I could see the lie in Steve's eyes. Apparently so could Tony.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?" He shouted in Steve's face.

"Yes" Steve sighed.

Tony took a shocked step back. I knew right before it happened that this was going to be bad. I could see the crazed look in Tony's eyes. The next second he hit Steve so hard it sent him flying backwards. I knew that he had turned to James but I kept my focus on Steve. I ran to him dropping to my knees in front of him.

"What do we do?" I whispered.

"Don't let him get Bucky." Steve groaned as he got to his feet.

Steve didn't hesitate to throw his shield hitting Tony in the back of the Iron Man suit. Tony knock Steve back again then pushed a button on his suit causing a device to come out and wrap around Steve's ankles. I was frozen in shock as Tony grabbed James and lifted him into the air.

"He didn't have control. It wasn't him." I told myself harshly.

I knew that fact but watching him do it with my own eyes was something I will never erase. Just as Steve breaks his shackles a shot is fire that causes part of the building to start collapsing. Steve runs trying to get to James as the crumbling building separates the three men.

"Get out of here! Willow! Go with him!" Steve shouts at the two of us.

I force my legs to move. I jumped over the rubble landing right behind James as he turned to corner. I was hot on his heals. We run into another large room where James punches a button on the wall. The ceiling all the way at the top of the room started to open revealing a snowy blue sky.

"Come on doll we gotta climb." James says as he grabs onto the closest ledge.

I don't hesitate to follow him. He's climbing fast trying to reach the top and I'm right behind him following his lead.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." James says as we climb.

"Not your fault" I tell him.

"No, but still. I coulda went a millenium without you ever seeing that." He spoke in a strained voice.

We climbed another ledge. This time he stopped and waited for me to be beside him before he spoke again.

"You probably think horribly of me now. I don't blame ya but all I ever did was try to protect you." The look in his eyes was enough to shatter my heart.

I leaned forward grabbing his face then pulled him to me. His lips crashed against mine in a desperate, panicked kiss.

"Nothing would ever make me look at you horribly." I whispered.

"We should keep moving." He said softly.

I nodded as he started to reach up to the next ledge. Before I even touched the metal Tony came out of no where kicking James hard. He fell down several ledges landing with a thud.

"Jamie!" I scream about to jump down to him.

Tony moves to blast James but Steve is between them with his shield. A breath a quick sigh of relief as I move to help James back up.

"He's not gonna stop. Go. Both of you." Steve said glancing between us.

Steve moved to keep Tony busy as the two of us continued upwards towards the opened ceiling. I could hear the fight below us but I forced myself to keep my eyes forward. Keep moving. Keep climbing.

"Almost there doll." James panted.

He was one ledge ahead of me. He grabbed the top of the opening starting to pull himself out as an explosion went off to his right. The opened part of the ceiling groaned then fell back down with a crash and a strong gust of wind that knocked both of us back down all those ledges. I hear James land with a thud and a groan but I'm still falling. When I do land everything goes black.

Every bone in my body feels broken when I come to. I groan forcing my eyes open. The sight in front of me has me Sitting up straight instantly. All thought of pain and injury gone. James is on the ground several feet away from me. His metal arm blown off. Steve and Tony are throwing punches at each other. This is insane.

Tony lands a nasty punch sending Steve to the ground. I try to pull myself to my feet but I only fall back down. Steve sets up on his knees between Tony and James. His face is bloody and he's panting.

"He's my friend." Steve says in exasperation.

"So was I." Tony said coldly.

I force myself to my feet as Tony picks Steve up then throws him against the wall. The captain groans as he body crumbles to the floor.

"Stay down. Final Warning." Tony warns him.

I take a step forward but my legs go wobbly and my vision blurs. I drop to my hands and knees. I blink barely making out the blue outline staggering to his feet.

"I can do this all day." Steve says weakly.

Tony steps back putting his red metal covered foot right in front of my blurry eyes. I reach out and grab him then give a hard tug. He's distracted turning around to look between me and James trying to figure out which one did it. Steve lunges grabbing Tony then throwing him hard to the ground. I crawl over to James' blurry figure on the ground.

"You alright?" I ask softly.

"Could be better." He hisses.

I hear a loud breaking noise then a grunt and a groan. I turn my head trying to blink away my blurry vision. It doesn't work. From what I can tell the fighting stopped. A few seconds later a dark blue figure rose to his feet. The scraping of metal told me he had picked up his shield. He stepped over to us. He helped James and me to our feet grabbing both of us around the waist. He started to walk away guiding both of us with him.

"That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!" Tony shouted from behind us.

Steve stopped walking. There was a sound of metal clattering to the ground then we were walking again. He had dropped the shield. He gave it up. What has happened to us?

Steve gets us back to our seats on the jet as my eyes finally start to clear. I keep blinking over and over trying to clear them. When they are clear again Steve is kneeling in front of me.

"There's something I gotta do real quick then we will find a place to get you two patched up." Steve told me softly.

"I'm fine Steve but he definitely needs it." I said nodding to James.

There were light footsteps then Steve was on his feet.

"I might know a place." A familiar thick accent said.

I turned in my seat to see T'challa in his Black Panther suit, all but the mask.

"I heard you inside. I know your friend didn't kill my father. I can help him. My people can help him." T'challa explained.

Steve and T'challa shook hands before the king departed out jet. He was waiting on us to clear out so he could inform Ross he'd caught the real bad guy. Steve didn't tell me where we were going until we had been flying over nothing but ocean for several minutes.

"Sam and the others are locked up out here. We gotta get them out." He said softly.

I immediately agreed with him. He had me take control so he could slip in and out of the prison as quick as possible. I kept the jet running and ready to go. When he returned he had Sam and Wanda. I didn't question him about the others. I knew there had to be a good reason he'd leave them behind.

When we entered Wakanda I was in total shock. This was nothing like what we'd been told. It was just suppose to be a country of farmers but clearly there was a bit more going on. Steve landed the jet right outside what looked like a palace.

"You two stay here. We won't be long." Steve ordered Sam and Wanda.

They both nodded. I stepped over to Sam then hugged him tightly.

"God, its good to see you." I smiled up at him.

"You too beautiful." He said with a charming smile.

"We'll be back." I told him then ran off to catch up with Steve.

I accompanied James into the room to see the doctor while Steve waited in the hall. James sat on the table while that man looked over everything, not just her metal arm.

"Doc, could I ask you something?" James asked suddenly.

"Sure" the man said nodding.

"Do you have the technology to put me back under? Freeze me?" He asked glancing over at me nervously.

A young woman suddenly appeared next to me making me jump.

"Why would you want to do that Sergeant Barnes?" She asked him.

"Give you time to figure how to get this Hydra shit outta my head." He said with a pained expression.

The woman shrugged.

"We can put you back in stasis if that's what you wish. I can work on some brain technology to help you when you next come out." She told him with a told.

"Good, do it" he nodded at her.

"Wait, are you serious?" I asked him stepping forward.

"Sorry doll, but I think we both know it's for the best." He said softly.

I didn't know what to say so instead I left the room. Out in the hall I told Steve what had just happened. He hugged me tightly but I wasn't as upset as I thought I would be. I already knew what I was going to do. What I had to do. This time everything would be different. The two of us walked back into the room just as the doctor and the young woman walked away from James.

"You sure about this?" Steve asked James.

"I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody." James explained.

"You want to go tell the others? I'll be right behind you." Steve suggested.

I chuckled softly making both men look at me in confusion.

"Sorry Stevie, I'm not going anywhere." I told him shaking my head.

"What are you talking about?" James asked.

"I'm not leaving you. I don't care how long it takes. I'm gonna stay right here. I'll help them if I can but I'll be here by your side. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not gonna let you be alone. Not again. Not ever again." I told him grabbing his hands and squeezing reassuringly.

The small smile that appeared on James' face warmed my soul. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. I stood next to Steve as they put him inside the chamber. We watched through thick glass.

"Will you tell Sam I'm sorry?" I asked Steve softly.

"You know I will." He nodded.

"Call me when you can. I'll keep you updating on everything." I told him.

He nodded then kissed the top of my head. A few seconds later he was gone. I was left standing in front of the glass watching James be frozen once again. But it's okay. This is not the end. When he wakes up we'll have his fix for the brain washing and I'll be here to help him through it. This time we can do things right. Live out a peaceful life here. A peaceful life with James Barnes.

—