#whoever wrote it is living in my brain namely my brain two weeks ago when i tried to draft it. i am so thrilled that i'm not the only one

[searchingforserendipity25]

exorcising my list of unwritten conclave concepts from a few weeks ago i haven't written much since, in case the list is all there ends up coming out of it or anyone wants to welcome any of them into a good home:

cardinal lawrence and sister agnes won each other’s respect and trust during ratzinger’s papacy (liberals who leak church scandals to the justice system and the press stick together). everyone lowkey thinks they are having an affair. they are not, but they do keep sneaking into corners to gossip during the conclave. leaning fully into the reading of sister agnes as the late pope’s intelligence expert. incredibly jaded vatican spy. aldo is not jealous. benitez finds lawrence with the yellow canary eating from his hand and going back to his side after short flights, and has a number of franciscan emotions about it. the whole thing would ideally be about their friendship, different views and thoughts on power, what it looks like, what it ought to look like. responsibility, and doubt. also: how horrible it is the only non smokers in an european workplace.

(does this change anything materially? possibly the adeyemi and trembley situation is revealed much sooner with lawrence and sister agnes working together earlier and sharing intel, which in its turn makes him seem more competent and aggressive in taking down competitors, ergo more votes, ergo more influence? maybe bellini supports him more overtly earlier idk.) 

cardinal lawrence is dead. as a matter of fact, cardinal lawrence has been dead for a few days after the pope dies; unlike the pope, he keeps coming back to do his job. the curia covers up his death, because the dean of the college of cardinals is a ghost who apparently hated his job enough that is it his very literal purgatory is both hard to explain, and bad for the press. the fate of his unliving soul is very much at risk when steering the conclave, which is, uh, fun. cardinal tedesco's vape smoke now strongly smells of sulfur to him, which is probably not satanic in origin but then again might be. people keep voting on him and their belief in him corresponds directly to how much he can interact with the world, which is a very straightforward way to test one’s moral limits and otherwise a great torment. the one silver lining is that he can walk through walls and scoop out corrupt dealing easily, and no one can really tell he is dead. well, barely anyone. cardinal benítez and his ability to walk easily between the liminal spaces and certainties of the world is an outlier, and should not be counted.

dean lawrence keeps getting kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. this is an unfortunate if occasional part of being the vatican’s manager of two increasingly liberal and unorthodox papacies. it is considerably less fine and unfortunately far too normal for innocent xiv, who has a non-zero number of experiences with friends being kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. 

bellini/lawrence full on established relationship nonsense. as in, they have been together for thirty years and counting. conclave rewrite?? 

innocent xiv’s phone messages get leaked. innocent xiv’s phone messages consist of selfies with turtles sent to various friends and family, a good deal of memes in the santa marta groupchat, and daily jokes, complaints and affectionate messages to dean lawrence. the media has thoughts. aldo bellini, newly in charge of the papal media strategy, also has thoughts. and prayers.

a glimpse at all the people that Did vote for benítez from the start, and how much his work is or is not known outside the hermetic sphere of the vatican. he's kind of famous in religious activist circle probably! he has fans! he has a wide network of people he regularly approaches for information, resources, mutual aid and donations to his clinics and dioceses! he keeps dropping insane facts about horrifying personal experiences with unnerving serenity!

vincent benítez soft doms cardinal lawrence into taking a rest during the conclave. this incidents turns into a habit and gains new dimensions, as per the forthcoming changes in job status

pope john has an ongoing crisis of faith and also a gigantic imposter's syndrome. unrelatedly, pope john would really really really rather vincent benítez did not die in kabul and/or cause a diplomatic disaster. how convenient, then, that he is now a benevolent religious dictator who can arrange (read: wholesale invent) a number of postings and duties only benítez can accomplish. if anyone ask, this is a long-delayed move on part o the church to develop a deeper connection to on-the-ground aid organization. this can’t possibly last forever, though, can it? 

friar lawrence has shed all politics and chosen an abbey who keeps a vow of silence. friar lawrence is genuinely having a lovely time of things in his little abbey post canon. for like, uh, two months? friar lawrence keeps accidentally gaining more and more influence. manager-guy who cannot not manage. six months in he’s in charge of shelters and social associations. one year on, and he’d be archbishop again, if he were not aggressively trying to clamber down the church hierarchical rung. his friend, innocent xiv, who went from being a non-entity to one of the most famous men in the world, is sympathetic but also thinks this is very very funny. epistolary fic?? email epistolary? there is a little cat in a friar's habit and this is the most important part.

possibly related: cardinal lawrence comes back from his enforced sabbatical in a peaceful retreat freckled, healthier and smiling. people have thoughts on this, and emotions also. 

turtle pov of benitez/lawrence. literally: turtle pov. is the turtle an angel?? unclear if the turtle is an angel.

cardinal tedesco must die au.

[blissfulparker]

Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

-

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

-

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee. 

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

Please leave feedback! It helps me grow as a writer and lets me know what more you want to see!

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[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 8

Word Count: 4,412

POV: Jamie

Warnings: Language, Angst

Recap: Things were going well for our high school sweethearts, that was until a backyard BBQ party. Our reader heard Caitlyn and Sara talking about her relationship with Jamie, and what she heard didn’t sit well. Let’s see if everything will be ruined or not?

Notes: So here we are the final chapter (though there will be an epilogue). Thank you guys so much for being patient with me on this one. I fully expet that this will not get any notes or reblogs but I seriously don’t care. I know that some of you really wanted to see how this story ended and I wanted to give you that. I loved this story from the start and I wasn’t just not going to end it. For those of you that are upset that I wrote this, please refrain from coming in my inbox at me, I’ve worked over 30 hours in 2 days and don’t need your hate this week. (Also if there are typos that’s why, my proofing suffered) At any rate, I hope those of you that do read it enjoy watching the pieces all fall together. As always Happy Reading!!! 

MASTERLIST

Sidenote: Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

"Hey Segs, have you seen (Y/N)?"

 Tyler cocked his head back before answering you. "Really? You're not attached to her side?" You didn't feel the need to respond and instead just gave him a death glare. Tyler just clasped your shoulder and drew you close to him. "Come on Chubbs, I'm just teasing, but you haven't let her out of your sight all night. It's kind of cute." You wanted to argue, but you might have kept her in your line of vision since the moment she got here, except when she was off with Jessi. Which is who you should be looking for since that's who (Y/N) had last been talking to.

 You tried to move out of Tyler's grasp to do just that, but the man continued on. "I mean it, man. I haven't seen you like this before. I'm really happy for you."

 "Thanks, Seggy." Most of your teammates felt the same way. They liked (Y/N), but then what was not to like. She was smart, funny, outgoing, and beautiful, and on top of that, she was a brilliant and talented doctor. Damn, you were lucky that she had given you another chance. There was no way you were going to screw this one up.

 "There she is," Tyler pointed out, bringing you out of your musings. "And there she goes." He added as (Y/N) literally headed out the front door. You were striding towards the door before you even had time to think about it. You tried to calm your racing heart, telling yourself that maybe she'd spilled something on her clothes and that she was going home to change, or that she'd suddenly remembered she'd left the curling iron on. The feeling in the pit of your stomach was saying something different though. Something felt off. It was the way she ran to the front door not making eye contact with a single person and how she shut the door, not a full-out slam, but definitely done with more force than necessary.

 "Hey Jamie, how about we…" you didn't even spare Caitlyn a second glance. You all but shoved her out of the way when she tried to step in front of the door. This time you were the one slamming it shut, letting her know that she was not welcome to follow you.

 "(Y/N)!" you screamed, as she was halfway in the neighbor's yard, yet she didn't turn around. "(Y/N)!" You were in an all-out run now, panic kicking in as she wasn't answering you back. By the time you reached her she was at her door ready to punch in the key code. "(Y/N) didn't you hear me?" You grabbed her upper arm, as you caught your breath.

 "Leave me alone, Jamie."

 It was at that moment that you were able to turn her to face you. Tears were rolling down her face. "Jesus, what's wrong?" You tried to hold her close to your chest, comfort her, but she wasn't having any of it, as she pulled free of your hold on her.

 "What's wrong?" She shouted indignantly. "What's wrong, is that I never want to see you again."

 Her words felt like a slap to your face, and you flinched back as if she had actually struck you. "I…I…," now was not the time to become tongue-tied. "What did I do? Tell me and I'll make it right. I swear it." You went to touch her, but she jumped back out of your reach, shrugging you off. You couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening again. You wouldn't let it happen. "Talk to me (Y/N)."

 Arms crossed she stood there defiantly, her whole demeanor changing. Gone was the weeping woman from moments ago, as she seemed to turn her whole wrath on you. "I'm sick and tired of it, Jamie. Am I just some sort of game to you? Is that all I am? All I ever was?"

 "What are you talking about? Of course, you're not some game." Surely, she had to see how much she meant to you and how much none of this made sense at the moment. "If you'll just tell me what happened…"

 "Like you don't know. Your little playing dumb game isn't going to work this time." She shoved your chest hard, causing you to stumble back. "Now get off my property." (Y/N) took advantage of the moment, opening the door and whisking away inside. She was just about to slam it shut, and lock you out more than likely, when you pushed the heel of your hand hard against the door, stopping her. "I said leave me alone."

 You ignored her protests, shoving your way inside. "It's not going to work this time. I'm not leaving. I don't care if it takes days or weeks but I'm not giving up on us this time."

 A bitter scoff left her lips as she crossed the entryway and headed deeper into her home. You stalked her every move, following her to the kitchen. "You can drop the act you know. Now that I know everything there's no need to pretend."

 "I'm not pretending. I don't even know what the fuck we're talking about so how could I be." You could see the anger bubbling up inside her. What or who had made her question your feelings for her was beyond you, but one way or another you were going to get to the bottom of this. "Just tell me what happened?" You pleaded yet again. "Or I'll go back over to that house and question every damn person until I find out the truth."

 "The truth?" she laughingly mocked. "That's rich considering you've been lying to me."

 "What the hell have I lied about?" Your brain was working overtime going through every word that you'd said to her since bumping into her on the road that day. Sure, you'd maneuvered your way into being her guide around the arena but could you really consider that a lie? Then there was Jordie and Jessi's party, you'd used it to your advantage to see her again; it was a slight deception but harmless. You didn't think either of those things would cause her to be this angry with you. "Ok, so I begged Jordie to invite you to his house because I had to see you again (Y/N). I just wanted a chance to be with you again. I didn't think you'd be this upset about it."

 "You what?" You could see her processing your words, and it registered then that that wasn't the lie she spoke of. What else could it be? "So, Jordie and Jessi are in on it too? I thought she was my friend."

 You knew she spoke of her developing friendship with Jess and you didn't want her questioning that. "They only did it because they know how much I cared about you. How much I still do. How much I love you." You'd held back the words the past two days, knowing that she wasn't ready to hear them just yet. Now there was no reason. She needed to know how you felt. That your feelings for her had never gone away, not even one day in fourteen years.

 "Those words fall so easily off your lips. Do you even know what love is?" She spat the allegation at you and it stung like a thousand bees all descending on you at once.

 "How can you say that?" You walked closer to her, and she turned away. "I loved you all those years ago, just as I do now. I never stopped. Maybe back then I was stupid to realize how much our love meant to me, but I'm not young and naïve anymore. I know you're the only one for me and if you would just look at me right now, you would see that I'm telling you the truth." Gently, you touched her shoulder urging her to turn. She did. Her eyes raising to meet yours, both shining with tears and you prayed to God she would see the love you had for her there. "I love you, (Y/N). I always have and I always will."

 She sucked in a breath at your admission and you knew that somehow, someway deep down she saw the love you had for her. "I…I…" She pivoted then on her heel, walking away, catching herself on the kitchen island as she took deep gulps of air.

 Carefully, as if you were approaching a timid animal, for in essence (Y/N) was just as fragile, you made your way to her. You placed your hands on her shoulders, not asking her to turn to you, but needing to touch her and comfort her in any way you could. "It's ok if you don't love me. I can wait. I'll wait as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."

 She bowed her head and you could hear her sniffle. It took everything in you to not gather her up in your arms, but you knew she'd only reject that right now. "I don't understand how you can say those things," she finally whispered. "I know you don't want me here."

 "Don't want you here? Who told you that?" She shrugged and this time you twirled her to face you. "Whoever told you that, lied. I would die without you here." The laugh she gave was hollow and you knew she didn't believe you. "I'm serious (Y/N). You live two houses from me and it's too far. I want to be with you every minute of every hour of the day."

 "But they said you were trying to get me fired."

 Your eyes grew round like saucers and now you were the one that had anger coursing through your veins. Who would say such a thing? Who would want to destroy your happiness like this? Though none of it mattered at the moment. The only thing that did was the woman in front of you. "(Y/N), I don't want you fired. That's the last thing I want. If I could I'd have you at every practice and every game; home and away." With a tilt of her chin, you raised her head up to look you in the eye once more. "You are a brilliant doctor and the Stars are lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you." It was the first time since this all started that her lips turned up in a slight smile, before quickly going to a look of confusion.

 "But they said you went and talked to the owner about getting rid of me."

 You laughed. Probably not the best thing to do at the moment considering the scowl that crossed (Y/N)'s face. "The truth is, I did go talk to Tom, but not about getting you fired. I went to see if it was possible for you to come on the road with us as well." She shook her head in disbelief. "I told you (Y/N), I don't want to be without you. I'll call him right now and he can tell you that himself." You reached into your pocket to grab your phone to do just that, though she clasped your wrist to stop you.

 "No, it's ok Jame. I believe you." Silently you thanked God for this small favor. Maybe if she believed you about this, she would know you were telling the truth about everything else. (Y/N) started to pace around the kitchen, her mind working overtime again. "I know it was fourteen years ago, Jame, but it feels like it's happening all over again."

 It did feel that way. "So, let's not let history repeat itself. Let's work this out (Y/N)." She stopped in tracks, then gave a small nod.

 "Ok."

 "Maybe we should start at the beginning." She gave her agreement, but you clarified. "I think we need to go back fourteen years."

 "You think that will change anything?"

 You shrugged, not knowing if it would or not, but you thought it best that the two of you get everything out in the open. "Yes, no…I don't know. It's worth a try." It would hurt opening up old wounds but maybe talking about them would finally give her a chance to heal and in turn, give you both a chance at happiness.

 You blew out a frustrated breath before starting. "I know it was wrong to talk about what happened between us with Jordie. I should've just kept it between us."

 (Y/N) closed her eyes and you could see the pain of what had happened written all over her face. "What did you say to him?"

 "Nothing like what was going around the school; I swear it." You could see she didn't believe you. Given what was said, you could see why. "Look all I told Jamie was that it was the most amazing night of my life and…" you started to blush at reveling this next part. "And I thanked him for the couple of tips he gave me." There was a smirk on her face at your admission and you could see that she wanted to ask what they were but she also knew now was not the time to get into it. "I didn't realize that Connor was in the locker room and overheard everything."

 "Conner Barnhart? You mean Alyssa's brother?"

 "Yeah," It was still hard to believe that (Y/N)'s brother, Justin, had married Alyssa for you remembered how much of a menace she'd been to not only (Y/N) but yourself. Alyssa had tried, on more than one occasion, after you and (Y/N) broke up, to go out with you, though you'd refused her at every turn.

 "So, let me get this straight. You told Connor that you only dated me because I was easy? Did you think that would keep him quiet or something?"

 "I never said that, to him or anyone."

 "But then…who did?" You'd like to know the answer to that as well.

 "I'm not sure. I threw Connor up against the lockers and threatened to beat the shit out of him if he told anyone. Which is how I ended up suspended for the next three days." You can still remember how pissed your parents had been when they found out.

 "I thought you were sick?"

 You ran your hands through your hair as you remembered the look of disappointment on your parent's faces when they were called to the principal's office. "That's what we told everyone. The principal agreed not to have it on my formal record so that it didn't hurt my chances to get into college. At the time I thought I'd be playing hockey at some university and having a black mark on my transcript might hurt those chances. So, they agreed to keep me out of school for three days. Hence, my mom not letting me talk to you when you called." It had been the longest three days of your life back then. If you only knew back then that those three days would lead to fourteen years without (Y/N), you would've done things differently. "I wrote it all in that letter to you."

 "But I ripped it up and threw it away." You nodded. It had been that moment that you knew you had no hope of getting back together with her and had given up. "So, let me get this straight. The only thing Connor ever knew was that we had sex."

 "And that it was amazing." It probably didn't need to be said, but you were trying to get on her good side after rehashing all these old memories.

 "It was," she admitted and you wanted to add that it still was, but again the timing seemed off. "He had to have made up the rest, but why would he do that?"

 "I'm wondering that myself. He didn't have anything to gain that's for sure. Though I couldn't follow through with my threat after being suspended." Though you wanted to, more than anything. If the little shithead had played hockey, instead of soccer you would've checked him so hard into the boards, that he wouldn't be playing for a least a week. It would've been worth the five-minute penalty.

 "Someone obviously wanted to break us up, just the same as tonight."

 "(Y/N), Who said I wanted you fired and all the rest of that shit?"

 It was her turn to blush this time, though, for the life of you, you couldn't figure out why. "I overheard someone say it."

 You could care less about her eavesdropping, that didn't matter. "Who said it?"

 "Caitlyn and Sara." Red hot anger coursed through you, at the thought of these two girls making up lies to tear you and (Y/N) apart. The scary thing was it had almost worked. You wanted to march back over there only to throw them out of your house, but you could deal with them later. Right now, the only woman that mattered was the one in front of you, who looked as though she was ashamed to have believed them in the first place. "I'm sorry Jamie. I should've never believed a word they said. I was just too blind to see that they were lying."

 This time when you took her in your arms she came easily. It felt so good to just hold her again. "It's ok," you told her in a soft soothing voice while you dropped a kiss on her head. "Given our past, I can see why you were skeptical. I just hope that you can trust me going forward."

 She looked up into your eyes. "I do Jamie. I trust you. I should've trusted you fourteen years ago. I was stupid to think that you would say all those things after what we had shared that night. It's my fault we weren't together all this time."

 "You weren't stupid. I should've been more aware of where I was and waited to talk to Jordie at home in private. I'm just as much to blame for what happened. I just don't understand why people want to break us apart when we're meant to be together." You leaned down and dropped a kiss to her lips. It was soft and tender, reminiscent of all those years ago when you'd first kissed her. You wanted to kiss her like this every day from now until the end of time but she pulled back from it, too quick for your liking.

 "I think I know who started those rumors back in high school."

 "Who?"

 "I need to make a call to see if I'm right." She searched her pockets then the house, looking you assumed for her cell phone. "Shit, I left it in your bedroom."

 You took her hand and started for the door. "Let's go."

 "No, wait. Everyone is still there and I probably look a mess, just give me five minutes to freshen up." She headed for the stairs and you followed.

 "I'm not letting you out of my sight." She laughed, the sound one of the best things you'd ever heard.

 It took a little longer than the five minutes she'd anticipated as you showered her with kisses every so often, but soon you were headed across the lawn and back to your house. When you saw both Sara and Caitlyn as you walked through the front door, you stopped. It took every ounce of willpower in your body to not say anything to them. Instead, you clasped (Y/N)'s hand and spun her body into yours, before stealing her breath away in a searing kiss. You heard a few cheers from your teammates as you kissed her passionately, and you were pretty sure you heard Caitlyn stomp her feet before slamming your front door shut. Good riddance.

 Once you were tucked away in your bedroom, the party still going on downstairs, (Y/N) grabbed her phone to make the call she spoke about. "Hey Justin," she said to her brother. "Is Alyssa there?" He must have replied yes then went off to find her. It was then that (Y/N) put the call on speaker.

 "Hey (Y/N), what's up?"

 "This might sound stupid, Alyssa, but I have to ask you something. Please be honest with me."

 "Ok."

 "Back in high school did you start that rumor about Jamie only sleeping with me because I was easy?" You started to put the pieces together as you waited for Alyssa to answer.

 There was a long pause on the other end before she said anything. "I'm so sorry (Y/N). I was young and stupid…and…god can you ever forgive me?"

 You looked at (Y/N), who looked back at you. It would be her call to forgive her sister-in-law, not yours. "What's done is done," (Y/N) finally told her. "We can't change it, but why did you do it?"

 "I…I wanted Jamie." You had already figured that part out and you were pretty sure (Y/N) had as well. "So, when Connor told me what he overheard in the locker room, I started the rumor. I thought if I could break you two up, that he'd want to date me. Obviously, that backfired. I'm just so sorry I hurt you both in the process."

 "We all make dumb mistakes Alyssa. I just wish you would've told me sooner."

 "I know. I should've said something back then or at least when I got together with Justin, but I didn't want you to hate me. Say you don't hate me, please." You could tell Alyssa was crying in the background. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Justin as well.

 "I don't hate you." (Y/N) told her. Part of you wanted to hate Alyssa for destroying what you had with (Y/N), but then it was so long ago and what you had now with her was so much better. "But I can't forgive you right now either. It's going to take time."

 "I understand," Alyssa sobbed into the phone. "For what it's worth I am truly sorry."

 "I know, and thank you for telling me the truth now. We'll talk soon." With that (Y/N) hung up the phone.

 "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," you offered by way of apology for everything that she'd gone through tonight.

 "Oh Jame," she said, grabbing your hands in hers in the process. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing to you. I should've known that you wouldn't have said those things about me then or even now. Instead, I doubted us." She took both your hands in hers, then looked you straight in the eye. "Can you ever forgive me?"

 "There's nothing to forgive. I told you before, I'm as much to blame. It's in the past and I'd rather concentrate on our future." Taking your joined hands, you brought hers to your lips and tenderly kissed them, hoping and praying that she wanted a future with you as well.

 "I'd like that too, Jame." Cupping her face, you brought her lips to yours. Downstairs, the party continued on as you could hear music and people chattering in the background, yet ensconced here in your bedroom, it felt as though you were the only two that existed in this world. You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, mouths just fused together, loving one another.

 "We should probably go back down," you suggested even though you wanted nothing more than to simply lay (Y/N) on your bed and make love to her until neither of you could see straight. She nodded and you both got up off the bed from where you had been sitting, though you couldn't resist kissing her one more time.

 “We should probably go back down,” you suggested even though you wanted nothing more than to simply lay (Y/N) on your bed and make love to her until neither of you could see straight. She nodded and you both got up off the bed from where you had been sitting. Taking her hand, you entwined your fingers with her then headed to the door. (Y/N) stopped though and tugged you back towards her.

 “Before we go down there, there’s just one more thing I have to say.” You took a deep breath, still half afraid that she was going to run and never come back this time. “You said something earlier, that I can’t get out of my head.” You tried to replay the events of the last hour over in your head but so many things were said you couldn’t be sure what she was referring to, and so you furrowed your brow in question. “You said you never stopped loving me.” It was true. If someone would’ve said that to you years ago, you would’ve laughed at them and shrugged off their comments, but the moment (Y/N) walked back into your life, you knew that she was your first and only love. You went to tell her that but she continued. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I never stopped loving you either.” A grin that would stretch across the Grand Canyon took over your face and your arms wrapped around her waist to pull her close. “I pushed so many others out of my life and I’m only realizing now, that it’s because they weren’t you. I tried to close off my heart to you when I ran into that first day in Dallas, but you managed to burst through and not give up on us, and I’m so thankful you didn’t. I know I said before that I wanted to try to give us a shot, but there’s no one else in this world for me. I love you with my whole heart and soul, Jamie Benn.”

 Your heart was pounding so hard, you thought it would beat right out of its chest, but then that would be fine because you knew that (Y/N) would be right there to catch it. “I love you too (Y/N), with all that I am and so much more.” Your mouth came down on hers and though you’d kissed a thousand times before, this was one special. It spoke not only of love but of pain, of sorrow but joy, of all things that had been and all that would come tomorrow, for your future was here with her and there was no place else that you’d rather be.  

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 51 - Amazing technology - 'Human with modified skull'

K: Hi this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's  episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome.

T: And thank you too.

J: Ta-da! We are wearing it.

K: Hahaha

J: We are wearing it. This is naturally cool, isn't it?

T: Yes.

K: Um, if we don't say anything the viewers won't understand.

J: Uh, Tasai, could you explain?

T: Um, so this is another Tokyo Sports T-shirt collaboration. We are putting one out.

K: It was a hoodie before, right? 

T: Yes, that was a collaboration with Don Quijote. This time we've collaborated with the store Hardcore Chocolate in Higashinakano, to create this really cool tshirt.

K: I'm wearing it too.

T: Oh, thank you. Its a Core-choco × Tokyo Sports collaboration.

*clapping/cheering*

K: The back is nice too.

J: Yeah, I mean, I can't see it myself though. What is written on it?

T: Its past Tokyo Sports headlines. The black is pro-wrestling headlines, like 'Inoki's grand KO defeat'.....'Hansen...near murder' etc.

J: Wow.

T: These shocking headlines are...

J: All over?

T: Yes, all over it. And as for the front, Joe, could you turn around?

J: Yes.

T: Those are copies of Tokyo Sports tied up with string, just on the verge of being thrown away, giving a kind if melancholic feel.

J: Ahh, this is cool too.

T: Its very Tokyo Sportsy.

K: Are the white and back versions different?

T:  Yes, they are different.

J: Ah! They are different?

K: The white one has 'Matsui' written on it.

T: Matsui's wedding.

J: Oh yeah.

K: This black one says, 'Brody'.

J: Pro-wrestling?

T: Yes, its mainly pro-wrestling. And the white is showbiz...

J: Sports and showbiz? Oh, so it is.

T: 'Elvis lives' and so on.

J: This is great...ah..'The Monster with 21 faces'!

K: Its nostalgic, isn't it?

T: Yeah, this type of thing.

J: Ahh..of course...Ah, shocking photos.

K: 'Discovery of Kappa'....'Madonna had hemorrhoids' haha.

K, J, T: Hahaha.

J: Does it really matter? haha.

T: Haha, that was about one time a long time ago when Madonna came to do a show in Japan. She requested a bidet toilet, so we reckoned maybe its because she had hemorrhoids.

J: Just from that? You put this headline with it?

K: Your info is thin!

T: Haha.

J: Right?! Zero fact checking! Guess after guess!

K: Incredible. So, there are two of these.

J: What should we do with them?

T: Well, I thought we could make them presents for the people who always watch The Freedom of Expression.

J: Ohhh! *claps*

K: There is black and white.

J: One of each?

T: Yes.

K: The size is S.

J: S?

K: Joe is wearing M, I'm wearing XL. Anyone who wants a big one..

J: Please but it.

K: Yes. For people who want S...um, what should we do...you could leave a comment on my Twitter..

T: With your thoughts on this show.

J: Of course.

T: Yes.

K: Yeah.

T: And we could choose one from those.

J: Leave a decent comment..

T: Like which was your favourite episode or something?

J: Ahh, you know how to do this!

K: Joe, its just that you're always drunk.

J: I'm always drunk, haha. When I see Tasai, Im learning how to conduct myself.

T: Excuse me brother, thank you very much.

J: Your stocks will rise with this tshirt. Yours and Tokyo Sports' stocks.

T: I hope so.

K: Everyone will be cool wearing this.

J: They really will be cool.

K: Please buy it, really.

J: If someone wanted to buy this, where do they get it from?

T: Probably online. You can buy it on Corechoco's site.

J: I see.

K: Ok, so today's story is a Tokyo Sports selection.

J: Its a Tokyo Sports day today.

T: A Tokyo Sports produced story...

The headline is 'Will we rise up in 2021? - Amazing technology, human with modified skull'. As for the content of the story, it asks what new technology will appear in the year 2021, and its by our science writer Hisano, who wrote about some of the things he'd heard.

J: Oh, so he's done it properly?

T: Yes. So firstly, well, we hear a lot about this A.I. deepfake problem at the moment, don't we? Like changing faces without permission, and making these made-up sexy images which cause harm, for example. *1

J: Yeah, its the basis of fake news, right?

T: We are hearing about that more and more, thats the first thing. Secondly, there is apparently this idea called, 'Trans-human' where people power up their own body with technology, and Hisano wondered whether Trans-human technology with develop a lot during this year. Specifically, well, there is actually someone doing this in Spain, Manel de Aguas. He peeled back the skin on his head and attatched self-mafe fin shaped devices to his skull. The fins contain a bone conducting oscillator and temperature sensor, so he can tell if the weather is hot or cold through vibrations in his head. So, this is a way to catch very small atmospheric changes that regular people wouldn't normally be able to sense.

J: I see.

T: And there are pictures of him, so please take a look.

J: If you go to the Tokyo Sports website?

T: Yes, you can see it there. Furthermore, well, there are quite a lot of other examples, like a 'trans-human' using prosthetics, or having an IC chip implanted into your hand to use for the train etc. On top of that, France has plans to make a conscription army like this. The name  of the project is 'The Bionic Soldier Project', which is a really cool name. They would be like super strong soldiers who never got tired and didn't need sleep, and who could heighten their sight and hearing with medication, and would have communication equipment embedded in their brains to connect directly to wireless  netwoks. Bionic soldiers..scary, right?

J: Yeah. Its like the end to the era of traditional fighting.

T: Research has been going on even longer America, in their Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, where paralyzed patients have had chips embedded in their brain, and have successfully been able to control drones with their thoughts. They've already done that. Even bedridden people can control drones. Technology his also being developed to go without sleep for 48 hours by running electric currents through the brain. This is not the talk of dreams, we are closing in on these things. There is also a plan by Nasa, a mission to redirect asteroids, where a robot spaceship would grab an asteroid, carry it over to the moon's orbit, and dig up minerals from it. Its like the world of Gundam. What do you think of this for 2021?

J: So, like these might become a reality within this year?

T: Yeah, some of them, as far as the technology goes.

K: It'll be like Robocop.

T: Yeah.

K: Its incredible, its like the world of 'Terminator'.

J: Yeah, it is.

T: In reality, controling a drone with the brain is aleady being used in China with toys.

J: With the brain..?

T: Like, controlling it with your thoughts by just imagining it rising. And in Japan..

J: You have to operate it.

T: In Japan they can be controlled with radio waves *2, but in China they can already move drones around using brain waves. Like, its technologically possible to attatch a bomb to a drone and make it fly somewhere and explode...its scary.

J: If technology advances this far, people won't need to study for exams and stuff, will they?

T: Thats right.

J: With a chip embedded...we talk about preventing cheating these days, but you would have all that data within you, or you could just go outside and remotely update.

K: Or you could send questions with just your eyes and get answers back.

J: Yeah, its like already at the point where you don't have to bother with tests or exams.

K: And it would mean no more back entrance admissions.

T, J: Yeah.

J: Yeah, like whoever has the money.

T: They might starts scanning people with metal detectors when they do exams to see if they have chips or something in them. Like, have you got a chip in your brain?? If it beeps, you'll know they have a chip.

K: They could put the people who have chips inside like anti-vibration shields..

J: Yeah, like to stop the transmissions.

T: Oh, yeah.

J: We're already getting to this point in time.

T: Do we even need to study anymore?

J: Yeah, like the era of people using their brains is ending.

K: We don't even really need universities and stuff anymore

J: We don't! Cause you have have access to all the information in the world in your head, whenever you like.

K:Yeah, if you have it ???*3

J: Well, there's also the issue of whether this kind of thing will be permitted by law. Like how far..

K: Yeah, it wouldn't be allowed immediately.

J: Yeah, like how far can human ability be harnessed in this way. I mean, there is the problem of genetic engineering too, but..thats where we are at now.

K: Well, there might already be people like this out there.

J: Well, yeah, the technology is there already.

K: You don't know whats going on in other peoples' heads.

J: Well, yeah. Eh, what if Kami is one of them?

K: No, I don't think he is. Absolutely not.

J: Haha

Kami: No, gods are different. But the bionic soldiers who don't need sleep, never get tired, and use medication to improve their sight and hearing...they've been around in Nishinari for a long time.

K: In Nishinari?

J: Haha

Kami: People who look like zombies, there have always been tonnes of them. There is also an article about a 'robot girlfriend to go for a walk with you', which Gifu University made, I'm interested  in that. I'd like to support Gifu University with that.

T: I see. Yeah, its a robot girlfriend who holds your hand and goes for walks with you, made by Gifu University.

K: What did Kami say earlier about women, doesn't he have woman trouble?

J: Oh yeah. Kami, don't women like you, being a god?

Kani: Thats a whole different story. Um, this is just a hand holding robot, but I'd like them to try harder with more in-depth research on this.

K: In-depth research? Haha

J: I don't know what he means by that. Kami!!

K: I mean, if they've been able to make the robot to this level, Im pretty sure they can also manage 'in-depth' research. haha.

J: They just won't announce it as university research, they stopped at holding hands.

Kami: Ah, I see. I wanna support deepfake technology too.

K: Ha, you wanna support it.

T: Well, this type of technology was originally invented for mens' pleasure. New technology can even start from such places. Like videos...

K: Ah, yeh, popular people from videos turned up a lot in this erotic stuff (*Sorry if I got this wrong*)

J: Ahh, yes, necessity is the mother of invention. Technology increases due human desires.

T: Yeah, thats it.

J: Well, this could be used for evil ways, or for more interesting ways. There are various ways to use it. Kaoru is there any kind of technology that you ever wanted to invent?

K: That I wanted to invent?

J: Like a specific type of robot or anything like that?

T: If you had a chip in your brain though, and you didn't have to study, what would you do?

K: But if all this stuff becomes normal, I think on the contrary, will might start to want to do things in more detail again. When you can get anything effortlessly, you will start to want to do those things that don't come effortlessly.

J: Ahh, hand made things will become nostalgic.

K: Our sense of value would change. People will want to go out and do things...if you can get everything you need without ever going out. And with food, it will be all there, ready as soon as you open the cupboard, right?

J: Yeah

K: Like, wouldn't you feel like going out instead?

T: Yeah, you'd want to go out and see live performances and stuff too.

K: People were told not to go out on New Years eve, but so many people still went out. haha

T: Oh, yeah.

J: Yep, human mentality just goes like that.

K: People will still go out. So, I think thats the direction it will head.

T: A.I. is pretty popular in human competions at the moment, for example with Shōgi, but in the end, what people really want to see is a human competing with another human.

J: Yes, I think thats true.

K: Yeah, its those natural variations

J: Thats it, we need those. Its that type of thing  that is impossible to calculate.

K: A computer couldn't come up with this type of thing. (*holds up Tokyo Sports tshirt*)

T: Haha

K: Its a product of wild fantasies.

T: Hahaha

J: Yeah, that would be impossible.

T: If we let A.I. do this kind of thing we would have lost. Tokyo Sports would be finished.

K: A.I. couldn't make this.

J: Its incredible.

K: 'Human gives birth to frog'.

J: Haha, A.I. could never write this.

K: It probably couldn't, right?

J: Only some bombed out person could do it otherwise.

K: It was worth making, naturally Tokyo Sports.

T: Oh, thank you.

K: So, everyone, please buy one of these tshirts. We have a black and white in size S here, so please send a tweet. Ok, we'll finish here this week. Please subscribe, thank you very much.

*1, 2 Not sure its exactly right.

*3 Couldn't figure out

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[yellowocaballero]

hi i know it's been the hottest of seconds but director's cut for the prophetic spring if you're still doing these? 👀

Sure! I’ve spoken a lot about the prophetic spring, but I’m fairly certain I could give some meta information about my intense life-long obsession with Tim Drake. Dude has been showing up in my fics since I was 14.

But actually, the ficlet I wrote ages ago might be more interesting? So here it is. Exploring a dynamic that was WAY underserved for how important it is: the Steph, Cass, Tim dynamic!

No CW that haven’t appeared in the prophetic spring, but specific mention for drug addiction and drug depiction, as well as references to molestation, abortion, torture, and suicide. Story under the cut. 

Tim stared down into the toilet bowl. It was a little yellowed. He needed to clean it. 

He stared at the small baggie of pills in his hand. 

He visualized dropping it into the bowl, flushing it. Possibly mutating an alligator, or giving the race of mole people that lived in the Gotham sewers a nice surprise. 

Tim sighed, and pocketed the drugs. Maybe tomorrow. 

**

A month after the incident with a runaway foster kid and a, in retrospect, kind of embarrassing fake fight with his older brother, Tim got a text from an unknown number. To make matters worse, it was at an insane hour of the day - noon. 

Texts from strangers were hardly uncommon. Tim had an extensive contact network, growing larger by the day, but he had set up a Google Voice on his computer so they were all routed through a program there. Being bothered at all hours of the day on his phone was hardly his idea of a good time. The only people who really had his real number were his bullshit ‘friends’ and his asshole ‘family’. He hadn’t even given his number to his ‘friends’ - he had given it to Kon under strict confidentiality, and then Kon had given it to all of Young Justice. Asshole. 

405-555-1998: dropping by in three hours so make sure ur presentable :)

As Tim had just woken up, most of his brain was occupied by a single whuh? 

Just as his mind swirled in sleepy confusion, his phone buzzed again.

405-555-1998: B1706XQE45

The code checked out. It was an ally, not an unknown or an enemy. 

Tim groaned, covering his eyes with an elbow. He needed coffee.

****

The coffee was a new thing - rather, it was something he had drunk plenty of growing up, because there had been nobody around to inform him that coffee was bad for developing brains. Growing up completely unsupervised was probably why Tim was a drug addict now. He could totally blame this on his parents never loving him. 

Not a drug addict, Tim thought to himself anxiously as the coffee sputtered into the extra large gallon pot. Just someone who...uses drugs...in an unhealthy way. Substance abu - substance user, who just used it maybe as a bad coping mechanism. Not that Tim had good coping mechanisms, but it was better than sawing off heads or becoming a drug lord. When you thought about it, it was either being a serial killer or doing drugs, so logically it means that he should do more drugs to decrease the amount of fun little murders he does -

Tim made toast.

The coffee was a new thing, because he was trying to use it to replace the drugs. He had cut back. The stupid little sorority that called themselves the Birds of Prey had been talking to him about it. He had agreed to try. It was best to set expectations low, so he couldn’t disappoint. Actually, Tim loved disappointing, maybe he should set them higher. Maybe he could make inspirational speeches about how he was a good guy now? Ha ha. 

The three hours had been a deft move. The texter knew noon was his average wake-up time at best, and the three hours gave him enough time to sober up if he had been high or drunk at the time. Tim didn’t like to start popping the minute he woke up, but - well, sometimes he did. Or sometimes he was awake at noon because he had been on an all-nighter drug binge. They hadn’t given their name, either, which meant that it was somebody who he wouldn’t want to see. 

He could bounce, escape to some corner of Gotham until they gave up. Except he had the sense that whoever had gone through the effort to get his number wasn’t the type to give up. Almost nobody Tim knew was the type to give up. His ‘friends’ and his ‘family’ never gave up. On anybody but him. 

A voice in his head, not quite yet suffocated, sounding altogether too much like the Replacement, echoed in endless attempts to get him to come back. Oh, whatever. Kid was a try-hard. He needed better taste in made up families. 

Over the next three hours, he debated his tactics. If he wasn’t escaping and the texter was playing the buddy card, then the situation probably wasn’t dangerous. He strapped in his armor under the baggy pyjamas that he never took off anyway, and spitefully made no effort to control his hair. He did put on make-up, an old hand from keeping CPS off Bruce’s trail - man, he should have pretended Bruce was molesting him, that would have been funny as fuck - to hide the bags under his eyes. No use looking pathetic. 

He hid a few more weapons around his apartment. He anxiously checked his phone, staring not at the new texts but at Harley’s offer sent a week ago. He still hadn’t replied. He didn’t know what to do with it. 

As if he could ever feel safe sleeping under the same roof as her?

As if he ever felt safe anywhere?

Maybe he had nothing to lose. That was the greatest part about this, the most wonderful aspect of what he had done to everybody in his life. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. That’s freedom, or so Janis had always told him. She knew what she was about. Overdosing on heroin at 27 - that was understanding what it meant, to have nothing. To be free.  He was almost jealous. 

At two on the dot, a polite knock echoed through the apartment. Tim looked up from where he was relaxing on the couch, with all of the possible entry points in his line of sight. That wasn’t a knock he had memorized, and he had memorized everyone’s knocks. 

Nothing for it. He’d have to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Maybe he can pull the insane sociopath schtick again; that had always been effective in ditching his parents. Tim sighed, walked over to the door, swiped his thumb against the keypad, undid the three deadbolts, and opened door only to see - 

Stephanie Brown, hands propped on her hips and smiling widely. Cassandra Wayne, standing right behind her, serene as ever. 

Tim closed the door - or he tried. Steph had expected the move, and the minute he had opened the door her foot had jutted out and blocked him from closing the door. Effortlessly, she wrenched it back open and stepped into his apartment, forcing him to press against the wall and scowl as insane women infiltrated his space. 

“Wow,” Steph said loudly, “this place looks like a wreck!”

Tim groaned. 

***

The thing with Steph and Cass was this:

How to describe it?

The sister he had never expected, the best friend he had never thought he would have. Cass was his twin, Robin’s shadow, the other side of his mountain. Bruce had adopted Cass barely five months after he became Robin, and Tim had unabashedly resented her for stealing Bruce’s attention so quickly. He had always liked her more, but Bruce had liked everyone more than Tim, so maybe it was no surprise. She was sweet, kind, gentle, and no trouble. Tim wasn’t any trouble either, but he couldn’t be the rest of it if it bit him in his ass. 

Robin was the brain. Cass was the muscle. They were a team so closely linked, conjoined at the hip, that Tim couldn’t remember a patrol ever done without her. Bruce had let them start patrolling alone at fourteen (“You didn’t let me work alone until I was fifteen, and I was an assassin,” Damian had spat), and they had been an unbeatable team. Robin’s hand-to-hand was weak, but nobody ever got through Batgirl. Batgirl struggled with technical knowledge, reading and writing and investigating and chasing down leads, the only area where Tim had ever excelled. Together, they had almost been as good as Batman. Sometimes, Tim had let himself think that they might be better.

They had been so similar. Everyone had always said so. They’re both so quiet, the Justice League had said. Emotionless little freaks, the Rogues had said. Neither of them blink, their schoolmates had said. But there had been nothing to say, not between them: they could have a conversation without words, without even Sign. Cass had known every twitch of Tim’s body, had understood him down to his core. Nobody else ever had. Everybody had always called Tim inscrutable and impossible to understand - but to Cass, Tim had been an open book. She knew every inch of him. And she had loved him anyway. 

And Steph! When Steph had found them when they were fourteen veering on fifteen, and from then on it was as if she had always been there. She was so big, so smiling, so much, and she had never apologized for any of it. Nothing scared her. To Tim, that was the perfect vigilante - somebody who was scared of nothing, who never hesitated, who was good. 

Not even Bruce could intimidate her. When Tim was fourteen, he had thought that was the most amazing thing in the world. Bruce intimidated everyone, but Steph had just stuck out her tongue and kept badly backflipping off roofs anyway. Through twin convincing, Tim and Cass had convinced Bruce to give her a chance, and Spoiler had slot into their dynamic perfectly. She was their best friend, always. 

She wasn’t good at hand-to-hand at first, but Tim had improved by then, and they could cover her. She improved faster than he had, and judging from the reconnaissance footage Tim had frantically consumed after he came back to life, she was amazing now. She was wickedly smart, practical and down to Earth. If Tim was better at hacking into a computer, Steph was the one who found the post-it note with the password stuck under the desk. 

But more than any of that, she had brought the social skills. She had brought the calming presence, the sweet hand to victims and civilians, and her good humor was infectious. Steph was good with people. She was a born leader. Resilient. Brave. Everybody liked her. Everybody loved her. Tim had. She had loved him too. She could have done so much better than Tim and Cass, weird little societal rejects, but she had chosen them as her family. 

It had been the three of them. For as long as Tim’s life had meaning, for as long as he had been loved, they had loved him. Tim had grown up alone, in a world of one, and they had infiltrated it. They had expanded it, and they dragged his life into more than just Tim. Into Tim-and-Cass-and-Steph. Into Robin-Batgirl-Spoiler. Into meaning, and love. 

Tim hated them. And he wanted them to suffer. 

“That’s the Stephanie Brown I remember,” Tim sneered, closing the door behind him. Steph had quickly thrown herself onto Tim’s couch, clearly somewhat surprised at how comfortable it was, and Cass had  perched daintily on the arm. Cass had always refused to sit like a normal person - she would rather sit on the backs of sofas, or on the arm, or perched on chairs like a bird - “If I had known you were coming I would have jumped cities.”

“We would have chased you down and you know that,” Steph said cheerfully, like she said fucking everything. “Besides, if you had known we were coming you would have gone into witness protection. You’ve been avoiding the fuck outta us.”

“Wonder why,” Tim said, injecting as much mean-spirited sarcasm into his voice as possible. “I need more coffee, don’t go through my shit.”

The apartment was small, and the kitchen had a cut-away wall where he could see through into the living room. Stephanie hated nothing more than being ignored or looked down upon, and if he dismissed her and didn’t react then she’d grow infuriated with him and leave. He couldn’t fight with her, because if it came down to a battle of rhetoric or emotions she’d win single-handedly. She was so good with words. Cass...had no weaknesses. 

Which was inconvenient, because it was Cass he absolutely had to get rid of as soon as possible. She was very emotional, and more than a little sensitive. Especially to rejection. If he was cruel enough to her, she’d start crying and leave. There was only one problem with that. 

As he jammed more grounds into the machine he watched the girls out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t talking or whispering to each other, both fully aware of how well Tim could read lips. They weren’t even having one of those body language conversations they could only have with each other, aware that Tim could crack that too. Instead Stephanie was casually sprawled on his couch, looking for all the world like a middle aged dad watching the football game, looking around the room. Cass, as usual, was zoning out. Or, of course, looked like she was zoning out - Tim could tell that she was waiting for something to happen, and was preparing herself for it. 

Shit. Tim fought the urge to gnaw on his fingernail. Cass was going to be a problem. 

He risked another glance backwards. She could see him, so she knew. Fuck. He had never been on the other side of her mind reading. It was fucking inconvenient. Psychics should be shot on sight. 

The coffee sloshed into the biggest cup he could find in his kitchen, and Tim began draining it immediately as he leaned over the cutaway. He kept the cup held up to his face, obscuring it. Face covered, everything under the elbows covered - best he could do without preparation. 

“This little field trip sanctified by Sgt. Brother?” Tim asked, sipping the scalding hot coffee. Not hot enough. He needed - he needed - they’d see -

“We’re nineteen, we don’t need his permission for everything we do,” Steph said, amused. So she was going to speak for Cass - hardly unusual, as whenever they were all together Steph tended to be the only one who spoke - but seeing as Tim was Tim then it was definitely a strategy. 

“He lets his precious baby sisters knock on the door of drug lords for fun?” Tim sneered. 

“If they’re incompetent and retired, sure!”

Tim gritted his teeth. Don’t rise to her bait. Don’t. She was the best person in the family at getting a rise out of their enemies. He didn’t stand a chance. 

“What do you want?”

“We thought we’d take you roller skating at the rink,” Steph chirped. 

Tim stared at her. 

“Or the pool,” Steph said, faux-thoughtfully. “Or just the mall?”

Fuck this. Tim headed for the door, ready to walk out of the building barefoot in his pyjamas. He tugged at the doorknob, only to find that it wouldn’t open. 

Tim breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth. There were other exits. He was not trapped. Had his apartment always been so small? He could have sworn that it was bigger. 

He turned around slowly. Stephanie was grinning at him, twirling what looked like a small plastic cylinder. Tim recognized it instantly - fancy League tech. Overrides all electronic locks and controls them. They all used it to trap perps and heighten their fear tactics. Tim jammed his thumb on the keypad. Nothing happened. 

Cass glanced at Steph, and made a small motion. Tim couldn’t interpret it. Why couldn’t he interpret it? Did they have a new code? It was Cass. When nobody else had understood her, Tim always had. Now they had their own language, one that Tim couldn’t interpret anymore. Tim was lost in translation, always drifting. 

“We aren’t bringing you in,” Steph said, just as light as ever. No trace of pity or caution or gentleness in her voice: just relentless cheer. “Literally all we want to do is talk. Play a board game, maybe?”

 Tim’s eyes flickered to the hidden panel in the wall next to him where he had stashed a gun and a sword. 

“Bro,” Steph said, “you really don’t want to escalate this.”

“Do you think you can take me?” Tim asked curiously, letting his hand drift to his arm. He shook his long pyjama sleeve down to cover his wrist. “That’s pretty cute. Last time I checked, you’re the shittiest at hand-to-hand in your team.”

But Steph just rolled her eyes. Shit, wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring her? He couldn’t, not so long as she kept pushing and pushing. Not so long as she was in his house. “Leave off. Just because Jay and I are the last people in the fam who weren’t trained in Mystical Ninja Arts doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. Hands in the air, by the way.”

Stephanie was overly sentimental. New tactic. He raised his hands slightly in the air, caught reaching for the weapon hidden in his armor. “Incompetent enough to let me die.”

There. Finally. Thank god, Tim thought he was losing his touch. The muscles clenched in Stephanie’s jaw, and just a twitch of her eye - banishing a bad memory. “Everybody’s been saying you’ve turned rude. I guess you’ve just been avoiding us because you don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

“I didn’t remember a lot when I was first resurrected,” Tim said casually, despite the fact that he had never told anybody about the first awful six months. Something about Steph and Cass just pried it out of him, like invasive surgery. Or an autopsy. “I remember everything about those six months, though. Homeless. Practically retarded. Brain damage does that to you, you know. I lived on the streets, did you know that? It was a miracle I lived through it.” He gasped, as if he was remembering something. “I slept on 34th street! You lived near there, didn’t you? Maybe you even walked by me.”

Steph went white. Cass’ expression froze. He was pushing hard, but these two wouldn’t react to anything less. Steph could trade barbs better than he could, even now. 

“It’s a good thing Talia found me,” Tim continued. “She was the only one who cared.”

That did it. Steph tensed, leaning forward, and even Cass stiffened. “Is that what she told you? How can you believe her?”

Tim just shrugged, walking back to the kitchen and hiding his body language again. He took an extra loud slurp of the coffee, just to be annoying. “Talia never lied to me. She said that nobody cared enough to save me. And guess what!”

Steph’s jaw clenched again. She was a hot head. A fierce temper, an impulsive girl who jumped in feet first and sanity second. Woman, now. When had that happened? “Cut that shit out. We all know what you’re doing. You’ve been doing it to everyone. Did you think Connor didn’t warn us?”

Snitch. Tim slurped his coffee again. “Connor’s been telling everyone to give me space.”

“Yeah, everyone but us.” She stood up now, ignoring the flicker of a frown on Cass’ face, and folded her arms. A challenge against the world. Against Tim. It didn’t matter. “You don’t believe half the shit you’re spewing. You’ve never believed your own bullshit, Tim. You’re just saying it to drive everybody away. It’s not going to work on us.”

“Why?” Tim asked innocently. “You’re too thick?”

“Because we love you!” Steph cried. Tim rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. “Saving Richie proved it, you aren’t as insane as you keep pretending you are. You know what you’re doing is wrong, you just don’t care.”

“Wow, you caught me.” Tim took another long swig of his coffee. It was making his hands jittery. Good. “Local genius aware of his actions. Call the press. Call Uncle Clark, he needs a scoop.” He arched an eyebrow at Steph. She hated that expression of his - she had always found it so aristocratic and pretentious. Joke’s on her, he was pretentious. “Do you mind if I go do a line? I’m not high enough for this conversation.”

If she had told him who she was, he would have done a line anyway just to spite her, and she knew it. “You don’t want to try,” Steph said stubbornly, “but you’re trying. You don’t want to care, but you care. You don’t want to feel it, but it hurts so much you can’t bear it. You can’t get anything past us, Tim. It’s always just been us. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Doesn’t that mean -

“What that means,” Tim said, and he found the words scraping his throat. He found himself talking a little louder than he meant to. The coffee, you know. Made you jittery. “is that you should have saved me. If you loved me so fucking much, you would have been anything other than useless. You’ve always been the most useless girl in the world, Steph. You couldn’t save your crook of a dad or your junkie of a mom. You couldn’t save your baby and you couldn’t save me. You’re ghetto trash putting on airs, and everyone can smell it on you.”

As soon as he said it, he tensed. He shifted his stance, ready to throw the coffee and spill the scalding liquid on her. Obscure her vision. It would take a second for her to vault the cover, so he could duck down. From there he could get the gun, shoot the window, jump out the window. She couldn’t win. Tim had the most powerful weapon in the world in his disposal and that was his infinite, burning hate. His hate for Steph and Cass burned him to the ground, and his world with it, and he was going to burn them to cinders because he couldn’t do anything else. 

But Steph didn’t move. Cass got off the sofa. She walked up to Steph, and gently pressed a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed. Steph exhaled, long and shaking, and nodded at Cass. She walked into Tim’s bedroom - hey! - and shut the door. 

Then Cass stared at Tim, and there was no more need for words. Not between them. 

Tim vaulted the cut away wall, aiming for her feet first. Cass didn’t dodge - that would imply that she moved like an object moved. She moved like water moved - swift and supple, with such infinite grace and precision that it was like she wasn’t human at all. 

But he had gotten better. He didn’t spend two and half years trained by the League of Assassins in crochet. Tim lashed out with a foot, she dodged again. He threw a punch, she moved. He feinted, clearly leaving her an opening, and she didn’t take it. 

Bitch. 

Cass shoved away his coffee table, sending it skidding across the floor and opening the floor space. The rug became their arena, tight and intimate, no room for maneuverability. Tim acted and she reacted, Tim lashed out a sweep kick and she jumped over it, Tim tried to grapple and she broke his hold. She never threw him to the ground, never pinned him. She just moved. 

She was good, but not good enough to toy with him and win completely. The way to win against Cass was to leverage your height - Tim was taller than he once was, although that wasn’t saying much - weight, and strength against her. A couple good hits and she was down. 

The issue, of course, was hitting her. 

He got a hit in. It was much easier when she wasn’t even fighting back. She rolled with it effortlessly, taking the impact to gain a little space between them. She breathed deeply, sweat rolling down her neck. Tim used to take a cold compress and press it to that neck. She used to smile at him. Thank you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said. 

“Too bad,” Tim said. 

Fights weren’t like in television, long and choreographed extended scenes to entertain and thrill. When Ro - Tim was in a fight, a real fight, it was typically finished in less than a minute. The only way that a match can get long is if the other person was deliberately tiring you out - a risky strategy - or if you were of completely equal strengths with similar fighting styles. Or if it was a spar. 

As Tim tried to hit her again and again, he realized that it was a spar. 

No, not even that. It was a conversation. 

Tim grabbed her wrist, and said: I want you to hurt. Cass broke the hold, telling him that he can’t. Tim leveraged the motion and kneed her in the back, telling her that the only goal of this fight was pain. Cass let the impact take her down to the mat, an incredibly disadvantageous position, but rolled out of the way just as Tim tried to exploit the opportunity. I’m not scared of you. Tim hit again, and again, and again, failing every time. I want you gone, Tim said, and this is the only way I know how to do it. 

This is what Tim said: as much as I once loved you, I now hate you. The infinite depths of my love, my twin sister, how we moved in perfect sync. I hate it all. As much as I cared, I now hate. Feel this hate. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said. 

They moved in perfect sync, even now. Cass couldn’t predict his movements before he made them, like she used to - his training was different now, developed and refined. But Cass knew the League of Assassins too, had been trained by them just as he had, and they were written into her bones when they were only carved into Tim’s. After his third patented Talia move, she adjusted to fit his style, and their fight metamorphosed into more of a dance. Like they used to. 

“Why not!” Tim screamed, the stupidest possible thing to do in a fight, but Cass didn’t take advantage of his exhale. He lashed out a fist to cover the opening, but it was lazy and over-extended, and she dodged easily. “I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tim desperately tried to call the green to his vision. It was so easy. All he had to do was tap into that rage. Talia had called it blood lust. Said it was normal, even good. But it wouldn’t come. Where was it? It was his only friend. 

Desperately, Tim went in for another punch to the face - Cass’ jaw was the weakest part of her body, an old injury - but he over-extended again, and this time Cass took the opportunity. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, dropping him to the mat. She didn’t try to twist him around, instead landing him on his back. Bad move for her. 

She kneed him in the chest, putting her full hundred and thirty pounds on him. She twisted his hands behind his back, pinning him, and Tim could do barely more than wheeze. 

He looked at her in the eyes for the first time. They were infuriatingly calm. Her hair was tangled and clumped with sweat, but she wasn’t breathing hard. Her expression was placid and serene, as if she was watching one of her stupid fucking nature documentaries instead of pinning her brother to a hard and scratchy rug in a shithole apartment, three years after he was tortured to insanity and shot himself in the head. 

So much time had passed. So much had happened, nasty and festering and putrid, and Tim had let it happen. He had made it happen. There was a rot in Tim, and it had eaten him up until there was nothing inside. If you cut him open, would it spill out? Would it infect her, infect Steph? Could he make them suffer?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass repeated. “So don’t be scared.”

“Scared?! I’m not fucking -” Tim wheezed, cut off by the lack of air as Cass pressed down. 

“I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. But I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill -”

Cass pressed down on his chest again, cutting him off. She had finally done the one thing nobody in Tim’s life had ever figured out: how to make him shut up. “You can be as mean to me as you want. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay.”

Tim wheezed. In that, maybe, Cass heard something, because she continued as if he had spoken. Or maybe she just wanted the chance to talk. It had been stolen from her for thirteen years, and it was valuable to her. 

“You do not have to be kind. You do not have to hug me, even if I want you to. You do not have to be my brother. I know it hurts too much. But you are me. I am you. You do not even have to try for that. I do not have to give it to you. You have it.”

Tim couldn’t help it. He cried a little, and then he couldn’t stop. 

Cass got off him, but she kept her promise. She didn’t hug him. She just propped him up against the sofa, holding his hand, and didn’t speak. At some point the door creaked, and he felt Stephanie next to him. 

This is why, Tim thought hysterically, he had been avoiding them.

He knew this would happen. There was no hiding from Cass. There was no posturing, no pretending. She didn’t want anything from him. She never had. There was nothing he could say that would drive her away, because Cass did not listen to the words people spoke. She spoke only for clarity, when she could not afford for her words to be misconstrued, and for the comfort of others. 

Cass knew that he had been lying out of his ass. Cass knew that he wasn’t as insane as he pretended, as cruel as he wanted to be. 

He couldn’t make Cass hate him. Shit. 

None of them said anything. Nothing needed to be said, not between the three of them. Cass might be having a silent conversation in Sign with Steph, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. When they had first met, it used to make Steph so mad that Tim and Cass were having ‘secret conversations’. She had poured over her dictionaries, learning as quickly as physically possible so she could keep up. Everything Steph had, she had worked hard for. 

Steph was in college now. Premed. She wanted to be an ER doctor. Steph wasn’t a genius, she had to study hard. She wouldn’t be able to superhero in med school, so she was ready to hang up her cape for a few years until she achieved her dream. Steph said that she could do just as much good as a doctor as a superhero. She hadn’t always wanted it. When they were kids and Bruce used to ask her what she wanted to do when she grew up, in his awkward faux-dad way, she had always shrugged and said that she might be a nurse. 

“Why not med school?” Bruce had suggested, between sleepy spoonfuls of oatmeal. She used to spend more nights at their place than at her own. Her mom hadn’t noticed. 

Steph had just shrugged awkwardly, nibbling her whole-wheat organic toast that she would stare at suspiciously. Rich people, she would say, sighing. “I would never be able to afford it. And no way I’m smart enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Bruce said, which was the closest he ever came to praising somebody. “I’ll pay for it.”

Steph had gaped. Cass had eaten her Lucky Charms smugly. Tim had rolled his eyes. “An in-the-know doctor for the vigilante community would be invaluable,” he had informed her, pretentious and callous. “We could use you.”

“You deserve it,” Cass had signed. 

“You have a bright future, Stephanie,” Bruce said, buckling under the panic of being a responsible adult. “I would hate to see you waste it.”

He would hate to see any of them waste their future. He had hated to see what Tim had become. He knew that. The last time he had ever seen Bruce, it was just to disappoint him. Bruce was the only parent he had ever had, and his standards were so sky high it was impossible to do anything other than disappoint. 

The fact of the matter was this: he loved Cass and Steph more than he loved Bruce. He could hate Bruce. He could hate himself. But Cass and Steph…

Bruce had ear-marked a lot of money for Steph, both for whatever continuing education she chose and for her future. It had raised a lot of questions among the lawyer team, but ultimately she had been written off as another of his strays. Tim had left her a lot of money too. There probably wasn’t any point: when she married Cass she’d have equal access to the fortune. Rich people, Stephanie used to whisper in awe, looking at organic toast. 

Cass was majoring in dance. She wanted to be a ballerina. 

Tim’s future...Tim’s future…

“Or we can watch a nature documentary,” Steph said out loud. “If we all promise not to say a fucking word.”

Incredibly, unmistakably, irrevocably, Tim groaned. “Not the fucking bee one again.”

“I like the bees,” Cass said serenely. 

“If you aren’t going to get out of my house can I at least smoke up?” Tim asked miserably. 

“I brought gummy bears,” Steph said, chipper as ever, “which are way better.”

“I’m going to the fucking bathroom,” Tim grumbled, which everybody knew was as good as a yes. 

“If you take anything I’ll know,” Cass said serenely, and also threatened. 

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Steph and Cass high-fived, and Tim sulked angrily to the bathroom. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror - looking for Tim Drake, failing, as always - before opening it and grabbing his baggie of pills. 

He looked at it. He looked at the toilet. He looked at the baggie. 

He didn’t flush them. He put them back in the medicine cabinet. Tomorrow. He’ll do them tomorrow. Not today. He can hold out for 24 hours. It’ll be fine. 

For a wild, stupid, insane second, Tim wondered if he could say that tomorrow too. If tomorrow he would look at them and say: maybe tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…

If there was a future, for a fuck-up like him. 

The faint strains of Cass’ stupid fucking bee documentary began playing through the thin walls of his shitty little apartment, and Tim turned out the lights of his bathroom and closed the door, locking it securely behind him. 

[the-reaper-of-maidens]

Deep Winter Hunt

Lady Dimitrescu x OC~  I wrote this to this song, because I have Destiny 2 brain rot sometimes, lol, so it’s my excuse to show you this song. Also, huuuusssh, I love soft Alcina with all my heart. 🥺 TW: injuries, sex mention

Snow crunched beneath the Reaper’s boots as she scanned her surroundings, each breath manifesting as a frosty puff. It was overcast, so it made the winter’s morning look even drearier than would be typical, and it was lightly snowing. This wild hunt was starting to drag on a bit too long for her liking, but her stubbornness refused to let her return home empty handed.

Two weeks. That was how long the hunt was going on for, taking the Reaper all over Romania, from the steppes to pine forests. She even almost wandered off to Serbia when she temporarily lost track of the maiden she was after. This is no ordinary maiden, the Reaper thought to herself as she settled down for the night, starting a small campfire to stave off the cold as she rested. Her heart ached for her love, Lady Alcina Dimitrescu, but she had to forge on so as to not disappoint her. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry,” she said out loud as if she was on the phone with her.

The last time she contacted Alcina was two days ago, and the Reaper was wrestling with if she should call her beloved. “No… gotta conserve my phone’s battery,” she muttered to herself as she had a tight grip on her phone, decided to wait until the morning. Normally, she’d call every two days if the hunt was long, but… her power bank was running a bit low, and her phone’s battery was just as low. She breathed, leaning against a tree as she looked up at the night sky, the stars shining especially bright on this cloudless night. She wondered how Alcina was doing, hoping the lady wouldn’t fret too much.

Naturally, the opposite happened. Alcina was just constantly wringing her hands in worry. “Oh, damn, I knew I should have let you three join her…” she hissed in worry, her daughters watching.

“Shall we go after her, Mother?” the oldest, a brunette named Viorica, asked.

“I… I don’t know, Viorica,” Alcina reluctantly admitted. “That damn tenacity of hers, she could have easily called off the hunt, but no… this maiden was just too pretty to pass up, and she just had to try to bag her for my wine.”

“Where could she even be?” Daniela, the blonde one, the middle child, mused. Of the three sisters, the Reaper was the closest to Daniela, so the witch was understandably concerned. “Last she told us, she was somewhere in Țara Românească, yes?”

“And that’s why I’m worried. The prey could have easily made off into București, if she’s smart. It’s only the largest city in Romania, after all… not to mention others would try to follow the Reaper back to us if she made one mistake this deep into her hunt,” Alcina wanted to send her daughters off to track the Reaper down, though she had no idea if the trail would be still warm enough, with the snow coming and going. No… she couldn’t risk her daughters; she just had to trust the Reaper to manage to get back. “Leave… for now, at least. We’ll just have to wait for her next call.”

Daniela and Viorica, swarmed away, though her youngest, a redhead named Aurelia, stayed behind. “Why are you so worried about… her, Mother?” she almost growled. Of the three, the redhead was the least trusting of the Reaper, though she didn’t directly antagonize her. 

Alcina’s lips almost curled into a grimace. “My reasons are mine alone, Aurelia. You don’t need to know why, you just need to respect it. The Reaper has given us many gifts, has she not?”

“But she’s still just… some girl you picked up from the streets,” Aurelia almost spat. “All it took was a ‘boohoo, my life is sad, can you please take me away’ to get you to cave in, Mother.”

“Aurelia, you’re being rather mouthy, and you know I hate those who sass back to me,” Alcina glowered, as if threatening to revoke her daughter’s privileges. “Now, go back and relax with your sisters as I told you to. I won’t repeat myself, you hear me, young lady?”

“I just need to know why you care so much about this silly little girl! She’s… just an intruder trying to ruin our lives… A foreigner who thinks she’s all that!”

“Because I love her!” Alcina finally snapped. “I… love her,” she repeated, quieter this time and with more deliberation. It was rare that the good lady lost her composure, but… emotions flared up. She held a hand to her chest, slowly realizing her romantic feelings for the Reaper.

“I… I see how it is, Mother,” Aurelia swarmed away before her mother would actually punish her. It would take a while for the youngest to process her feelings about a new vampire among their ranks...

She supposed it was a bit strange, finally feeling a flicker of romance, despite the many trysts between her and the Reaper, but it felt amazing when she came to terms with it. “Oh, my darling Reaper… you better come back home soon.”

And after a day and a half, return, she did, though wounded. “Sorry… I got attacked by a feral one. Wanted the prize, I think,” the Reaper said as her teeth chattered. Her bones were ice cold, and some of her wounds were caked with ice and dried blood. Her breathing was ragged and exhausted, exhaling frosty puffs with every breath. It was clear that she had not stopped to rest and warm up ever since she bagged her prey.

Alcina didn’t care about that, though; all that mattered was her beloved was safe, she would handle this feral monster soon enough. “Let us be,” she simply said to the servants as she carried her beloved in her arms, being her caretaker for the next week or two.

“Aaaaah,” the Reaper relaxed in a tub of hot water one day during her recovery. The water was a slight red tint, undoubtedly from her own wounds that were still open. It stung, but… having something nice and hot to clean those gaping injuries felt amazing. She hunkered down with a book to read when Alcina carefully stepped in with some clean clothes and tea. “Lady Alcina,” the Reaper grinned, revealing a row of shark-like teeth.

“My dear Reaper,” the castle’s mistress smiled warmly, setting the tea down next to her before kneeling down to plant a kiss on her lover’s cheek.

“Ah, thanks,” the Reaper eagerly took a sip. “Earl Grey, sweetened just right...~” she kissed Alcina back. “Sorry the tub is pretty… normal-sized, I’d invite you to join me,” the brunette vampire mutant giggled.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m just glad you’re safe,” the gargantuan woman held her love’s hand. “What an interesting book you have there. What’s that about?” she immediately knew it wasn’t from the castle’s library, it looked way too new.

“Oh, just stuff about Las Plagas. It’s always a fascinating topic, I really think you should at least check out some books on it,” the Reaper explained. “Even back in my mortal days, I was… always intrigued by the horror of parasites taking over your body. Reminds me of this one movie…” she was cut off by Alcina’s lips touching hers.

“You talk too much,” Alcina purred when she broke the kiss, “but no, really… tell me more. I know you like to hold strong on your little Los Iluminados and Umbrella Corporation conspiracy theory, so I’ll lend an ear this time to seriously consider the merit behind it.”

“You’re being awfully cuddly today, Lady Alcina~” the Reaper nuzzled, though she didn’t mind the extra special attention.

The lady of the castle gently squeezed the Reaper’s hand. “I love you, my darling,” she admitted. “I know, I always say that to you, but… this is different,” she leaned in to kiss her love on the cheek again, leaving behind another kiss mark.

“I know. It feels different than how you usually say it,” the Reaper nodded. “You really have no idea how happy it makes me hearing that from you, Lady Alcina.”

“I know, since you’re such a hopeless romantic,” the giant woman snorted in laughter, her crow’s feet bunching up. “Once you get patched up, we’ll enjoy a nice dinner… and, well, let’s just say, I missed having your tongue wiggling around inside me.”

“Hehe, I hope dinner’s as spicy as you’re being right now, Lady Alcina. I just miss being in your arms after sex, I feel… safe and comforted.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of my chest?” Alcina playfully rolled her eyes, knowing how much the Reaper loved sleeping on her breasts. “But really, not until you’re healed up. You look like you still have much healing to do,” she pointed at the slightly pinkish water and one of the Reaper’s rib wounds. “...Whoever attacked you deserved what they got. You’ll be pleased to see their head hanging on a mount by the castle door... No one gets to hurt what is mine and live.”

[theoriginalladya]

I'm very curious about Alenkoats from the WIP folder ask game.

Of course!   

Alenkoats - this is a new idea that I came up with about a month ago, but didn’t actually start writing until this past week.  Let’s say... four or five days now, at most?  

So the pairing is Kaidan Alenko and Major Coats (in this instance, I’ve named him Benjamin).  The idea is this: Instances when Kaidan Alenko and Ben Coats’ lives intersected.  The meet in Basic Training.  They serve together on a ship together.  They become friends and meet up periodically when they have leave.  But the first idea I had was that Coats is sent by Councilor Anderson to talk to Kaidan post-Alchera to start establishing a low-key training program to train Alliance soldiers to prepare them for the Reapers under the Council and Allied Command’s radar.  Of course, knowing one another for as long as they have, becoming good friends, they eventually end up deciding to be together - just as the war breaks out and they are separated.  Near the end of the war, they meet up at the FOB in London and, when Kaidan is injured on the run to the conduit (I’m using the original ending for this, I guess? I’ve never seen or played it, but I don’t have the Normandy flying in to take them away), after Shepard heads on up to the Citadel, Coats and a small squad head in to look for any survivors left, but Coats is specifically looking for Kaidan.

Unfortunately, the Crucible does not fire.  A large portion of the fleets are destroyed.  The Normandy is MIA and presumed taken down.  Shepard is presumed dead.  Anderson presumed dead.  In the next eighteen months, those who survived stay in touch as best they can.  Plans are uncovered from an old Andromeda Initiative base of arks, of their mission to the Andromeda system.  Those who remain start building an ark.  There is no guarantee any of them will live long enough to get out of the Milky Way, but they give it their best shot.  Kaidan and Coats are on the first ark leaving for Andromeda... and their story continues.

So, that said, here is a little snippet I wrote up last night. It comes immediately following Coats’ arrival at the orchard post-Alchera.  (I’m still sorting a LOT out for these two, but suffice to say, they’ve taken a foothold in my brain! :D)

When Kaidan finishes reading, he sits back in silence.

“He’s listening, Kaid,” Coats tells him, “despite what the rest of the Council is doing, he’s listening.”

Kaidan runs his hands over his face, scrubbing hard. It’s been… what?  Four weeks?  More? Since the Normandy went down. He barely remembers the rescue as he spent almost the entire time leading the rest of the survivors.  While Dr. Chakwas was technically the ranking officer, she was overwhelmed with treating the injured.  The duties fell to him when Pressly was lost during the attack. He spent well over a week with little sleep, doing the absolute best he could to make sure they survived.  

Is it any wonder I can’t sleep now?

The refusal to believe in the Reapers began well before the battle at the Citadel.  Kaidan recalls quite clearly the anger and frustration Shepard exhibited after conversing with them for post-mission debriefs.  Still, if Anderson – a member of that same Council – is sending him this information now…

“What does he need me to do?”

“You’ll be promoted,” Coats explains.  “Lieutenant Commander.”  He grins.  “Gonna owe you a beer or two for that one, I can tell.”

Kaidan actually laughs for the first time since… Well, at least for the first time in the last few months.  Standing order between them is, whoever gets higher rank, the other buys the first few rounds of drinks to celebrate.  His gaze drifts to the tabs of Coats’ collar.  “You’ll be there soon enough.”

Ignoring the reassurance, the man continues.  “After that, you and I’ll head to Arcturus to meet with Admiral Hackett in person.  Wants to keep this as close to the vest as possible, from what I gather.  Less chance of the ‘wrong people’ finding out.”

[tartagilicious]

spoken love > gavin, mlqc

→ Pairing | gavin x reader

→ Genre |  angst w happy ending

→ Word Count | 9555 

→ Warnings | tw; kidnapping and mild torture, + general heartbreak/feeling like you’re not good enough + the fluff at the end might give you cavities

→ Songs | orbit by hwasa and stefan’s theme by michael suby

→ Note | this plot took all of my brain cells to put together rip but at least I’ll be able to start working on requests again :) and yes, I love harassing victor in these for some reason. the poor boy deserves to be the one to win mc’s love 😔

@n3verending16​

Flowers don’t bloom in the dark. Biologically, it’s impossible, but there are other factors that weigh in — things that stunt its growth just as greatly. It’s quite an open ended question, but this time, perhaps simply, the flower just felt as if growing any more was useless without her sun there to see it.

Call it a personal bias, but you think that must be it. Because as Gavin utters the very words you dread to hear, you feel as hopeless as a flower cut off from the sun.

“___,” he sighs. And it’s pained — too pained for someone who has just single-handedly snapped your heart in two. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t something I could keep from you forever.”

I don’t love you anymore.

The words echo in your head so forcefully that you barely register Gavin’s voice. His apology only goes in one ear and out the other, much to both of your dismays.

“...I don’t understand.” Your voice is flat, but you know it’s only a matter of time and how particularly strong you’re feeling today until that breaks. “Why all of the sudden...?”

Gavin bites his bottom lip, as if holding back something before he only fesses up a shrug in response.

“I’m sorry.”

He sounds sorry, but you know from the bottom of your heart that there’s something underneath it. Gavin, a boy you’ve known since high school, who would always keep an eye out for you, who always picks you up and flies you home, who is always the first person to be there for anything -- is someone you know just as well as you know yourself.

“I don’t want to hear that. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Your voice raises slightly with irritation, but in lieu of your unclear communication Gavin only stands and takes it. Like he should, you think, but you know that you don’t want to yell at him. He doesn’t deserve that — he never will.

“I really am sorry.”

You‘re at a loss for words as he shifts past you and silently lets himself out of your apartment.

Stay safe.

You frown as you whip around to the closed door, recalling the words he’d whispered to you when walking out. They fill you with a hopeless sense of dread and irritation that you can’t possibly manage to keep at bay for long.

And your frustrations do quickly surface — in the form of hopeless tears, with soundless sobs sneaking out of your throat that have you crippling to the floor.

That was almost 3 months ago.

By now, you’re not over it. You’re not over it in the least, and you’ve never lied to yourself or anyone else about that. That doesn’t mean it’s any less harder, but denial is simply just another fruit that you’re not willing to pick in the end.

Because there are already plenty of other nights that fill in the absent spots that denial leaves. Times where you’re too empty to eat, when you’re too lonely to sleep, and plenty and plenty of nights where your sadness tries to blame Gavin for your troubles — but, you can’t. The part of you that still believes something isn’t right just can’t bear to.

And so, you spend every moment of every sorrowful minute reminiscing, even if every single one of them is not your choice.

You don’t want your heart to drop into your stomach at the mention of his name. But it does. You don’t want to let a single person control your emotions like this, but you do. It’s meaningless to even claim that you want to feel this way, but it’s all too worth it to be the only one that knows you at least deserve better than your worst.

You want to get back to working at your best. You want to enjoy your favourite things again. All you want — all of it’s just out of reach for now. But, without him, without the reason that had torn you apart, you fear it’s impossible.

Yet, ironically, he was the one to teach you that nothing is impossible. He taught you that anything you chose to put your mind to, you could do, and now, you’ll be trying to use that very advice to piece everything back together.

Starting with him, of course.

There’s, of course, still that aspect that sticks out to you as wrong; something you haven’t been able to shake even after months of general, yet still mutual, silence on the subject. Whether it was the hesitance in his eyes or the sadness in his voice, you refuse to believe that it’s the end of the line. Especially considering Gavin’s own personality in regards to you -- it had always been in his best interest to keep you in the safest hands, even before you began to see each other as more than friends. So, it’s not as if you can completely rule out that possibility yet.

But, Gavin is like a lock. And sadly, it’s one that you lost the key to long ago.

Every time you encounter him, whether he flies you home, or helps you with a detail concerning something at work, he’s nothing but friendly and lithe in the ways he interacts with you. There’s little evidence of the hesitation you could’ve sworn that you saw that night, and it discourages a certain part of you greatly.  

Still, you don’t want to give up. You feel like doing that would be like casting it to the side -- or more accurately, labelling the situation as plainly unimportant. And no matter what, that isn’t true. You want answers more than anything; concrete ones that won’t leave you with a bad taste in your mouth anymore. Answers that even if you didn’t like them, they settle your questions all the same.

Yet, you can’t help but feel pressured to.

Time after time he ignores the unsaid words floating in the air above you, and smiles without pain even when it’s obvious that you do.

maybe I was wrong?

You think hard to yourself one afternoon, right after Gavin had just dropped you off at home; unincidentally, of course. You can’t think of anything else, really, but the heartbreaking possibility that you’re concerned over nothing and Gavin really has just fallen out of love as he said haunts you more than anything else ever has.

That night spent alone is by far the worst.

But unbeknownst to you, a certain someone’s nights vary little.

Gavin feels tremendous regret. It’s a gnawing, aching feeling to know that while not only he lied to the love of his life, he is by no means closer to solving the problem that forced you apart. Three months have passed with only average progress on the particular case, and without you by his side, he can’t help but feel anxious every step of the way.

He feels time and time again the urge to tell you the truth, even if you choose not to accept it. And not just for himself -- but also for you. The way you’ve changed over time is terribly obvious to him if no one else.

But you aren’t a switch he can turn on and off at will -- your happiness is relative to only yourself. He just finds himself wishing that if not him, at least you could find the opportunity to live happily without him for now. He sees the way the emotions in your eyes rise and fall whenever he interacts with you. And though it gives him little insight into what goes on behind closed doors, it makes him feel bad all the same.

Because he knows it’s his fault, and wants nothing more than to get things over with so he can tell you the truth you deserve.

And finally, one day he realises that he might be closer than he thought.

“Gavin.”

He looks up to greet the man who’d just walked in, but thinks better of it when he sees his expression. This particular case had been handed to Eli first, as it fell more under his category than Gavin’s, but was extended out to him in lieu of progression.

That much alone told Gavin that this mission was unlike any he’d done before.

Usually, missions take mere days to complete -- up to about a week at most, but this one has been stretching on for months. It makes him anxious when he thinks about how long Eli had been at it before him, but all Gavin knows he can do nothing more than try his best to shorten it.

“What is it?”

“I think you should see this.”

A newspaper, dated to only a few weeks ago, is tossed on the table in front of him. It doesn’t really look to be anything special, with the headline only referencing business moguls and trivial local news rather than information they’re looking for.  But, just as Gavin goes to open his mouth, he notices an article on the bottom of the page. It’s small, barely even noticeable, even, but the moment he reads the first words his eyes widen.

His eyes flicker up to meet Eli’s, who’s standing there with a small smile on his lips.

“Is this--?”

“Yep.” Eli nodded. ”Good thing I actually stopped to read it this morning, huh?”

Gavin’s lips curve up into a distracted smile, his attention returning to the newspaper and ultimately the little article about a missing persons case -- one of the very same they’ve been following. Listed under a few incidents is a woman’s name and information -- all average details such as height and weight that would inform anyone in the public of any specifics.

It’s nothing that they haven’t already uncovered, but there are certain details in the article itself that strike him as odd.

“Time and place of abduction.” Eli fills in the blanks before Gavin can even find the words to speak. “Whoever wrote this article somehow managed to get a hold of the cctv footage from that night and put it out to the public.”

“Spiteful of them to do that,” Gavin mumbles, his grip around the newspaper tightening and loosening with every absentminded flex of his hand. “Especially when we’ve been trying to get it for months.”

“I don’t know, but, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe they were just lucky.”

He turns to Eli with a dubious look on his face. “The footage is protected under the ownership of the residence, and not to mention, the permissions you need for it can take months. There’s no way they were just lucky.”

“Look, fine. I agree, okay? It shouldn’t have been possible, but here we are.” Eli shrugs, cutting the argument off even as there was more hanging in the air. “What if they just got special permission from the courts or something? Isn’t that possible?”

Gavin shakes his head. “No way. These processes take a while no matter the circumstances, remember?”

“Fine, then let’s find whoever put this article out and make them tell us how they got their hands on all this stuff.” Eli obviously can’t hold back a smile any more, patting Gavin on the shoulder a bit too lightheartedly for the other man’s taste. “Maybe we’ll be a little closer to finishing this all if we do.”

Finishing.

Gavin turns the word over in his head what feels like a hundred times, but no matter how he looks at it, it’s good -- really good.

He stands up and ceremoniously returns his partner’s smile. “Okay, then let’s do it.”

But, before they even have time to breathe, a new setback finds its way into their plan

“Wait.” Gavin does a double take when, hours later, Eli finally announces the company responsible for the article.”That can’t be right, it’s--”

Eli interjects with a sigh. “___’s company. I know.”

“It’s a production company, though. They don’t do articles and stuff, do they?”

“It’s not uncommon for companies like that to have different departments or whatever.” Eli shrugs. “And the article in question would check out, I guess, considering how close they are to the street with the cctv we’re trying to get.”

“But last time I talked to her, she wasn’t doing anything like that…”

“When was the last time you talked to her, then? Maybe it’s just a recent change or something.”

Eli asks the question nonchalantly, but is really none the wiser about Gavin’s situation than he was when everything began months ago. And so, the words do nothing remind Gavin of memories and mistakes, sending an involuntary strike of pain through his chest.

When was the last time I talked to her?

Not long ago, he thinks. Not long ago at all. He remembers distinctly all of the times he had encountered you on the street, or the times he’d flown you home after a carefully acted day out.

But when was the last time he’d really talked to you? Held a normal conversation?

He finds himself squeezing the hem of his shirt, so hard that his knuckles begin to fade into a sickly white. It’s like a punch in the face to realise something so late, but he can’t help but consider it a bit of a blessing to even recognise it in the first place.

“You know, this makes it easier if it’s just ___.” Eli interrupts Gavin’s downspiralling thoughts, resting his chin on his hand as he says, “We can just ask her about it face to face, then we don’t have to bother with the paperwork for requesting an official interview.”

And around an hour later, that’s how Gavin ends up in front of your company’s doors, cursing Eli and his cluelessness.

He swallows the ball of nerves in his throat and fidgets with his hands for a moment, but he knows that he can’t stay there forever. Everyone around him moves unabridged and casually, whether it be while talking on bluetooth or out on a late afternoon jog. He may not be the only one around that’s stuck in the past, but he sure is the only one taking time to dwell on it.

He uses that much to prompt himself inside.

The inside of the building is just as he remembers it to be, if not the same as it was months ago. It’s the little things he notices, like the familiar fake plants sitting in the corner of the waiting room, or the painting hanging on the wall that you’d mentioned was a gift from your dad a few times.

He’s relieved at least one thing is still familiar.

“Hey stranger. How can I help you?"

Gavin instinctively turns towards the voice, his eyes momentarily widening when he sees who sits behind the reception desk.

"Anna? What are you doing up here?” He gives your friend a polite smile as he makes his way over to where she sits. “Where’s the receptionist?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “He quit a few days ago, so your girlfriend put me up here on duty.”

Gavin pulls his lips into a thin line, trying to hold back his surprise. She didn’t tell them?

“Um, anyway, speaking of ___, where is she right now? I need to talk to her." He changes the subject as quickly as he can manage, and thankfully, Anna doesn’t seem to notice that was the intent.

“Right now? Should be up in her office finishing paperwork.”

“Okay, great. …Do I need a pass or anything?” He asks this, but regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. They're suspicious, of course, and it’s a dumb question regardless.

Anna gives him a deservedly strange look.

“Um, no, of course not.” She tries to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere with a laugh. “Just go. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Right,” He laughs nervously and briefly giving his thanks, steadily walking towards the direction of the elevator. When he steps inside, though, he lets out a long sigh. The previous awkward interaction left an embarrassed sting in his chest, and the familiar oncoming heartache of seeing you again will no doubt only add to it.

So, he spends the entire minute of the ride downright terrified.

It’s not like everything is magically resolved when your door opens either, though. The moment he hears your voice acknowledge his presence from inside the office, it’s appropriate to say that his heartbeat doubles -- or even triples, in just seconds.

But contrary to what he expects, your eyes still light up upon registering his face. He doesn’t understand why you’re happy to see him, but he welcomes it regardless.

“Gavin! It’s nice to see you.” You give him a friendly smile, but the all-too familiar feeling of anxiousness still lingers in your expression.

Startled, he just smiles back as he says, “Yeah, likewise. How are things here at the office lately?”

“Ah,” You sigh out a laugh. “They’re fine, but I’m sure you’ve already heard from Anna that our receptionist just quit. It won’t be hard to find a replacement, but it still kind of sucks since he was responsible for coffee runs.”

Gavin winces novelly, playing into your slightly joking tone. “That does suck. Who’s been going instead, then?”

“Minor offered, thank god.” You smile, a sliver of joy finally peaking through your tired eyes.

“That’s good.” He nods, slightly relieved at the sight. “I wanted to ask you, though, I saw an article in the paper that said it came from your company. Since when have you thought to put articles in the paper? I never heard anything about it from you, so--”

You interject, “Articles? We don’t write articles. That’s not the type of company we are.”

He blinks.

“Your company, though--” Gavin fishes his phone out of his jacket, where he pulls up the article in question. “This traces back here.���

Your brows furrow as you lean forward to read the screen in his hand, unaware of the way his face begins to heat up when noticing your concentration. On the other hand, he’s very painfully aware of how your brows twitch as you read it over, and even more so to the way your lips twist in apt concern.

Gavin spits out an explanation in place of the straining silence, and you nod along, though you take in every word at half its worth due to your own racing heart.

“We have basically no contact with the owners of that building, so we wouldn’t be able to get the footage either even if we wanted to.” You explain steadily, hiding your nerves in the squeeze of your knuckles beneath the table. “I don’t remember giving anyone permission to even write something like that, anyway.”

“Would someone else have given permission, then? Or, alternatively, do you think someone put it there for any other reason?”

“I can’t think of another reason, but there are definitely other people in the building who can give permission to employees, of course. “ You push a laugh. “I’m not the one sole source.”

“Anna can do almost everything I can, so maybe she did. Try her next.”

With that, the conversation trickles off weakly. It’s unbearable to do so, but Gavin leaves the room with a clambering heart. He has no doubt that things ought to be difficult if this is what he’ll be returning to, but still saves face for the chance that everything will turn out okay.

And around an hour later, he exits the building carrying all the information he needs.

“Eli, the guy’s gone and quit.”

His partner looks up at him with locked brows when he returns to the STF. “Our article writer?”

Gavin purses his lips and goes silent in thought, but it’s all the answer Eli needs. Gavin’s chest is heavily wrought with regret and disappointment that spans over multiple reasons, but he merely shakes out his shoulders and takes a seat down next to the other man, concealing his face in the way he always has.

Eli only turns a blind eye to Gavin’s front.“I guess that’s just our luck, but it’s still okay right now. Did you get any details about him?”

“Yeah, I managed. I’m not completely sure they’re real, though.”

Gavin hands Eli the small slip of paper that Anna had scawled the man’s information on and explains as he reads it over.

“Anyone else probably wouldn’t get anything out of this,” Gavin says, referencing only the name and phone number of the man in question written on the paper. “But since we’re here, we can probably do something with it, at least.”

Eli nods along as he speaks, and upon skimming the information, a pleased smile curves at his lips. “At least? We’ll have to run them, but it seems viable enough to me -- maybe even enough that this can finally give us the info we need to close the case.”

He returns a smile at the thought.

“I hope it does.”

Gavin’s mind brings him back to a few hours prior, where he watches himself trip and stumble over himself around you through the pitiful eye of his own memory. It takes a lot of him not to frown outwardly at his mistakes, but little to gain the determination needed to fix it. What happened then, that’s not how it’s supposed to be, and he knows it.

The memories switch to happier times when his heart finds it in him -- the starry and clear night he finally kissed you on the ferris wheel, the buzzing warmth of your arms around his torso when he goes a strategically fast speed on on his motorcycle, and of course, the moments where all he can see is you smiling in front of him, looking just as delighted as you always have been.

It’s just out of his grasp, but Gavin finds himself hoping that it’s still in his reach.

Because, in his mind, nothing is truly unattainable. And that philosophy goes for everything, but is most virtuous when it becomes the bearer of good news.

“Everything about this guy checks out for now.” Eli says this from his spot at the database station days later, turning his head over his shoulder to where Gavin is checking the contents of his utility belt from across the room. “So, I’m not sure that much precaution is necessary, Gavin.”

The other doesn’t even look up at his remark.

“Better safe than sorry. You know that.”

Eli just laughs and nods, obviously in a good mood regardless of his partner’s hesitance. “Ok then, whatever you want.”

Gavin gives him a dubious look, but otherwise goes back to his business.

“It’s not like we have much to expect, anyway.”

But, whether or not you expect something doesn’t deter fate. It seemed easy enough at the time, anyway -- so there was no reason for Gavin to doubt their plan even as he walked up to the man’s presumed address.

He eases into the situation by knocking on the mahogany door softly, calling out with what Eli had long called his ‘business’ voice.

“Police! Is anyone home?”

Gavin notes a candle in the window out of his peripheral vision and instinctively furrows his brows. Whoever’s here, the perp or not, it’s clear that they’re at least not one step ahead of him.

So, with that in mind, he makes the split decision to try the door. And much to his surprise, it opens without a lick of trouble, even the hinges not making the slightest sound. He purses his lips slightly as he comes face to face with the dark entryway he was expecting, yet still chooses to silently draw his weapon before stepping into the building.

And the moment he locates a pair of eyes in the dark, he knows his decision to do so was correct.

He clicks his tongue with the shift of the safety lock, his expression instinctively hardening even though he’s sure that the person can see just as much as he can.

“Come out with your hands up!”

Gavin’s voice doesn’t waver, but neither does the faceless figure in the dark.

Multiple sets of footsteps echo throughout the entryway, but Gavin doesn’t let them make a show. His eyes stay locked on the same unblinking ones that had drawn him in, and cocks his gun as if in warning.

Maybe they actually are one step ahead.

“I’ll say it one last time -- and that goes to anyone in the room. Come out with your hands up.”

His voice is cold, and if it were ordinary people standing around him, perhaps they would have listened. But, the thugs surrounding him have little in common with the regular citizen, most startlingly obvious in the weapons they hide sheathed in their belts; daggers engraved by the agency they belong to:

BLACK SWAN COLLECTIVE

The last thing Gavin can recall is the sharp pain of someone thrusting the handle of one of the said weapons into the back of his head, immediately sending him into a darkness he tried so hard to avoid.

Maybe it’s futile, useless even, but as everything goes black, he can’t help but think of you.

“You aren’t seriously planning on wearing that, are you?”

You look back at the exasperated voice that interrupts your shoot preparation, the recording equipment in your hands shifting slightly with your deep sigh.

“Victor, it’ll be hot once we’re on set, I promise.” Sending him only a brief smile, you continue to wrap the cords up. It’s quiet long enough that you naturally assume he’s left, but a few minutes later, you feel a presence at your side taking the last microphone and starting to mimic the same process you’ve been at for what feels like hours.

Victor takes in a near silent breath as he places the microphone in its case, zipping it shut with such familiarity that it momentarily muddles your brain. It’s been almost two years since you’d met him for the second time, walking into his office only to meet his cold voice and fearsome business methods. You’re subconsciously glad that you’ve gone through so much together, albeit tough, because your relationship has moved far because of it all.

“...I’ll grab a jacket before we leave.” You look up and flash another smile at him, but this time, you try to make it seem like you mean it. He seems to notice your hesitance regardless, but the look in his eyes still lifts slightly as he nods wordlessly.

The location of the shoot itself isn’t very far-close enough that the transportation won’t be taxing-but the stakes are still high nonetheless. A reputable American fashion outlet had reached out to Anna around a month ago asking if your company would consider filming an episode featuring some of their pieces, and even without asking you first, she had accepted in a heartbeat.

You couldn’t be mad at her for obvious reasons, of course, but you almost considered thanking her for a separate reason, too -- because it somehow seemed to line up on the perfect date.

It’s a hard pill to swallow even as you think about it, but today, the date of the shooting, is your and Gavin’s would-be year anniversary.

Without this shoot, there’s no doubt in your mind that you would be sulking at home otherwise, halfway through your second or third depression nap of the day. But instead, here you are, conversing quite normally to Victor and feeling a little less hopeless than you expected.

Your mind momentarily flickers to him, though, as if habitually. You can only imagine what he’s feeling like right now, sadly, but you still can’t help but pray that at least a fraction of him feels the pain you do

“___!”

Then someone calls your name, and suddenly, you’re back to work again.

One of the main focuses of the episode for your team is the outfits people on-screen wear, of course. But otherwise, the episode itself features a local meteorologist aiming to spread more information and awareness about the conditions of the recent continuous snow. It may not be known to be directly related to superpowers as of now, but as the producer of Miracle Finder, it’s your job to find miracles, and not only those of the supernatural kind.

“Okay, Victor, let me know when everything on that side is good. I’ll check over here.” You say this and wait for nothing more than a nod before going ahead and double-checking with all of your employees that stand ready to record.

All of your operations for the day seem to be going smoothly, so you shoot a quick thumbs-up to the main cameraman. As soon as your arm is back down at your side, though, you notice your phone buzzing from the pocket of your jacket.

Anxiety habitually runs through you as the screen lights up with a blocked number, unwillfully taking you back to all the times you’d been directly contacted by the unknown officers of Black Swan. It startles you so much that you think about letting it ring, but in the last moments, you decide to pick up.

You release a short breath of relief when an automated voice reaches your ears, and you even find yourself feeling a bit dumb about freaking out over nothing. Yet, while you think, a few words the robotic voice says catch your attention and send your heart into another panicked frenzy.

a wind evolver.

You bite down on your lip subconsciously, hoping that you heard wrong.

The voice says an address with its now eerie-seeming tone, and you squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can when the line cuts off without warning.

It’s a prank call. You think, not noticing the way Victor’s eyes finally find your worried ones from across the room. Gavin’s completely fine.

You stuff your phone back in your pocket with a resigned huff, a sour feeling settling deep in your stomach the longer you just stand there. Certain possibilities begin to habitually fly through your mind at a rate where you can barely discern them from one another, but each one leaves you with the same aching in your gut -- the same aching that has saved you so many times.

So, you take your phone out again and dial the number you know by heart.

The line’s continuous ringing suddenly seems ominous, and somehow worsens when you’re greeted by Gavin’s voicemail. But, you don’t want to give up just yet, so you find another name in your contacts that could potentially help.

Eli and you don’t communicate often-at least, not much outside of the times you see him-but he had given you his number soon after realising how close you were to Gavin, only just in case. You didn’t think there would ever have to be a ‘just in case’ scenario -- at least, until now.

Thankfully, he picks up after the first couple of rings, his familiar voice bringing a small smile to your face.

“Hey Eli,” You return, your smile growing slightly at the soft sound of recognition he lets out.

“___!” It sounds like he sits up straight before continuing. “It’s nice hearing from you. What’s up?”

You take in a hesitant breath before starting. There’s still a small chance that you’ll be asking baseless questions, and as embarrassing as that might be, you know you’d rather take it than the alternative.

“Well, it’s something with Gavin.” You say. “I just got this weird phone call saying something about him, and now I can’t get a hold of him. Is he with you?”

Eli doesn’t respond for what feels like a millenia, but then, the soft sound of a keyboard fills your ears, so you opt to wait patiently. He unabashedly picks the phone back up a few seconds later and sighs.

“..Do you remember what the phone call said?”

You recount the automated voice’s words and wince at how Eli curses under his breath. If anything, you know it’s at least not a good sign.

“What? What is it?” Dread spirals through your chest as you ask, habitually expecting the worst.

“Gavin went on a mission last night. He told me he’d get in touch when he finished, but he hasn’t yet.” You can almost hear him contemplating from across the line. “___, thanks for calling, but I’ve gotta go now--”

“Wait!’ you quickly interject, garnering the interest of a few production crew around you. But, you pay no mind to them. “Let me come with you.”

“What? No, ___, you’re not coming with me. Gavin would kill me if I got his girlfriend hurt!”

“Eli,” You sigh, a fingertip’s length away from sitting down to massage your temples. It seems that Gavin had chosen not to tell his colleagues about your breakup as well, but that doesn’t help the massive headache it causes every time to explain when someone catches on. “Gavin and I broke up 3 months ago. And now that that’s out of the way, I’m meeting you at the STF in 20 minutes, and if you aren’t there, I’m going to that address myself.”

He’s silent for a few moments before he lets out a reluctant agreement, only to peg on a few rules at the end that you just nod to.

“...20 and that’s it. Any more and i’m leaving without you.”

“Then I'll be there in 15.” You challenge, unable to contain your smile when you hear his resigned laugh.

“Then I’m counting down, ___.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, quickly thinking to find Victor. It’s unethical to leave during the middle of a shoot and you know he’ll give you crap for it, but you pray that the case of emergency will balance him out, even if it’s just a little bit.

You whisper his name until you’re able to wave him down, unable to help your nervous smile as he approaches you.

“___? Why aren’t you over there monitoring those--”

“I’m really sorry, but there’s an emergency that I need to--”

You cut yourself off when you notice Victor’s surprisingly unreactive face.

“I need to, um, be there. To help with it.”

Victor’s sigh feels heavier than usual as he crosses his arms, hitting you with his signature dubious look. But, the words that come out of his mouth aren’t at all what you expect.

“You look like you’re expecting me to decline something I have no right to keep you from doing in the first place.”

His words take a few moments to process in your jumbled brain, but before you can even react, he begins to shoo you away.

“That means go, dummy.” A soft laugh escapes his lips as his expression begins to melt. “I’ll tell your coworkers, just try to hurry back so I’m not blamed if something goes wrong.”

Your face perks up at the unexpected but appreciated development, shifting with a wide grin as you thank Victor as many times as possible before slipping away. While you weave your way through the distracted crew members, your phone mimics a lead weight in your pocket-- something that’s almost painful to ignore

But you only keep walking, putting on a brave face and praying that Gavin is okay.

“Nineteen minutes, ___.” Eli tells you this as soon as you hurry through the STF’s doors, tapping his smart watch with a familiar smile. “What happened to that fifteen you were talking about?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, unable to hold back your smile as you shake your head. “Would you really have left without me, anyway?”

“You know the answer already. But enough about that, come with me and I’ll catch you up a bit before we head out.”

You descend into silence as you follow Eli to the research room most frequented by the duo over the past few months, listening to the man skim over the events prior while somehow still leaving no semblance of a detail out. It’s faster than you expect, his explanation, yet it leaves you with very little gaps in the story between Eli’s and your own accounts.

“But, ___,” Eli begins as he picks up his jacket, meeting your eyes with such intensity that you almost flinch. “Make sure that when we’re there, you stay behind me no matter what. If they took Gavin down…”

He doesn’t need to finish.

“Yeah,” You choke out softly, berated by the hazy image your head provides of Gavin being so easily overpowered. “I will.”

Eli gives you a small reassuring smile before leading you out of the room, checking that every piece of his equipment is on correctly as he walks. An involuntary chill runs down your spine at a catch of his expression -- his usual carefree smile replaced with the solemn air that you would expect from an officer.

And you don’t like it one bit.

Gavin’s eyes shoot open, drawing a sharp gasp from his lungs as he slowly begins to regain consciousness. But the crackling sensation that floods his chest cuts him off before he can even so much as catch his bearings, begetting an irritated wince from the already tired man.

His vision is clouded by not only exhaustion, though, as the room is also dark in what feels like an unreasonable manner. Absolutely nothing is clear, whether it be what had happened beforehand, or even what lays a few feet in front of him. But in the meantime, another sharp pain forces him to look down and find out.

Rope burns his wrists as he twists his hands, trying to gauge a location for the extreme pain that has suddenly popped up. Gavin curses under his breath as he looks at the gruesome beds that used to hold his fingernails, snippets of memory coming back to him as his eyes rake over the beaten skin.

“You’re in no position to protect her anymore. Give up.”

A curt voice had induced Gavin to look up hours before, glaring into the tepid eyes that already stared back into his own.

“Ya hear that, pretty boy?”

The second and last black swan officer in the room had leaned over slightly as he engaged Gavin, but stood up straight again when the first gave him a subtle yet strong look of warning.

Gavin was silent throughout the exchange, though in his mind, he knew they were talking about you. Black Swan’s interest in you had all but lessened in the recent months, much to his and the STF’s displeasure. Knowing that they were after someone so powerless but not having the slightest idea why -- that scared him beyond belief.

“Your silence will change nothing,” The first man said, calmly re-buttoning his long coat. “Wind evolver, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut upon recalling the interaction he’d tried arduously to forget, inadvertently biting his lip so hard that it disturbs the blood already dried there. Disappointment and pain go hand in hand while flaring through his chest in equal measures.

He even briefly considers using his evol despite how little energy he has left, but is painfully aware of what it would take to escape if he did.

So he stays still, his mind racing far too much to notice the pain. Because even if he should, it’s not him that’s he’s worried about --

It’s you.

Meanwhile, seemingly worlds apart from the danger Gavin perceives, you sit in Eli’s passenger seat, safe and sound yet fueled by the vehicle’s general silence. A part of you thinks that you should be scared, but only because you know it wouldn’t be refuted as much as if you said how you really feel.

It’s not necessarily wrong to be determined, though. And because you’re sure that if your roles were reversed, Gavin would think the same, you don’t ponder on the subject any longer. There’s no use in worrying about something you’ve already set your mind to.

And your intuition proves to be correct.

Upon arriving at the designated address, Eli immediately comments on how normal everything looks, and you can’t help but nod your head in agreement. It’s a small traditional style house that you stop in front of, yet to have signs of people inhabiting it other than the few candles to be seen behind some of the shaded windows -- too ordinary for a place that supposedly serves as a lockhouse for Black Swan

“...It doesn’t really look like anyone’s home.”

“Good. Let’s just hope the bastards have left so we can get in and out, then.” Eli says, squinting at one of the windows while noiselessly drawing his gun. “We don’t want to spend any more time here than we need to.”

Eli wastes no time after you hastily concur, very obviously ready to stay true to his words and making quick work of the lock. The entryway is small and homey, but it has an odd smell to it -- one that’s familiar, but not so much so that you can directly pinpoint it.

It sends an involuntary chill down your spine just thinking about it, though Eli says nothing about it, so you choose to do the same even if it’s difficult. He’s too busy surveying the area to notice your hesitance anyway, and you don’t blame him. If your sources are correct, Gavin is somewhere nearby. There’s no time to be distracted, no matter the circumstance.

With that in mind, you force all of the bad premonitions away and focus on the matter at hand -- and the fact that Eli is looking more sceptical with each passing second. It’s understandable, how his eyes flit around uneasily enough for the both of you combined, but you feel yourself getting impatient just watching him.  

“Eli…” You mumble, elbowing him and giving him the liberty of pretending not to notice when he flinches. “Let’s start looking.”

His gaze falls to meet yours, and after a moment of thought, he nods. “Fine. Just stay close, okay?”

You don’t have any qualms with that.

Following Eli around as he checks each room is an unexpectedly stressful job, not knowing if Gavin lies beyond the doors until you get the chance to peek inside yourself. The call you’d received earlier burns hot in your memory each time you do so, the voice’s words of warning towards a so-called wind evolver damning.

It’s a scenario you don’t want to delve into, but is unfortunately a reality you have to be ready to accept.

It takes a few attempts to locate the right place, though it’s all-too easy in the long run; almost worryingly so. But even so, that doesn’t stop you from nudging Eli aside to see the scene better for yourself.

The smell you’d noticed at the entrance is potent here, and with a scrunch of your nose, you finally put a name to the hazy smell. It’s the same one you’d become acquainted with after spending so much time in the hospital months back, and while grotesque, it’s almost intimate in the way you remember it.

Narcotics; the pills and liquids you were given to ease your pain each day and night, hang in the dense air.

Tears fill your eyes as you make your way over to where Gavin sits abandoned against the wall, uncertain of where to start. Bruises litter his exceptionally pale skin almost to the point of disfigurement, and the parts of his hands that are visible from where you crouch down show the empty beds that used to hold his fingernails.

You’re afraid to touch him.

Eli comes up beside you, his hurried footsteps conveying the worry you both feel. But unlike you, he has little problem in taking action immediately, taking Gavin’s wrist and feeling for a pulse.

He doesn’t speak, but Eli’s expression tells you enough.

You take your leave quickly after, relaying Gavin to the nearest hospital and tearfully handing him off to the startled nurses. As you sit, Eli takes the opportunity to fill in the doctor assigned to Gavin, even showing his badge to stress the severity of the situation.

The entire ordeal takes days.

Life all but goes back to normal afterwards, your schedule ultimately flipping on its head with the man you love unconscious in the hospital. The rounds you make to visit him are constant enough that you even acquaint yourself with some of the nurses that frequent his room in the time you’re not at his side.

But even they are incapable of soothing your worries.

Gavin feels nothing but sparkling white pain. Whether it’s burning or freezing to the touch, he can’t tell, but it’s an awfully persistent sensation. It’s confusion personified, and like quicksand, he finds himself unwillingly drowning in it. It’s similar to the lights he sees when he first opens his eyes again -- washing everything out with little effort.

Gavin’s gaze adjusts to an unfamiliar ceiling in due time, and soon after, his ears catch up to pick up the faint sound of a beeping heart monitor. Copious amounts of his senses return to him at once, launching him into a coughing fit that makes him very abruptly aware of the warm presence at his side.

They call his name, though their voice is hardly distinguishable.

But, then they reach out and cup his cheek, delicately rubbing their thumb over the shallow cut that lies there. The intimate touch is unmistakable from then on, the way it caresses his skin familiarly soothing him.

“___…”

Your name leaves his lips in a single pant, his eyes squeezing shut as his coughing suddenly begins to cease. You almost find yourself holding your breath as you look on at him, waiting for another sign of life.

And soon enough, his eyes begin to open again, slowly focusing on your face from where you lean beside him. Gavin’s lips turn up in a small smile, and he makes no attempt to hide the affection that oozes from his gaze.

“___.” He repeats your name, his emotions stretching out control as tears come to his eyes. A thousand things flash through them at once, baring both things you expect and things you don’t.

“...Are you okay?” You ask hesitantly, your hand shifting to cup the side of his head as you study his expression. “Does something hurt?”

Gavin only smiles in response, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as his body shakes silently. You stare at him for a moment, at a slight loss of what to do when you realise you can’t distinguish whether he’s laughing or crying.

“I’m so sorry, ___.”

You don’t understand.

“What?” Your brows furrow as tears begin to prick at your eyes yet again. “What are you apologising for? None of this is your fault..”

Gavin shakes his head, inadvertently cutting you off.

He lets his hand fall back down to his side, allowing you to see his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You can only stare at him as he continues to avert his eyes, ultimately surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I thought limiting our contact would help keep you safe.” He weeps quietly, his cheeks flushing from what you assume is a healthy mix of embarrassment and emotion. “But I caused us both so much pain. Every day I was held back by the possibility of messing everything up and never being able to see you again…”

Your heart flutters and drops all in the same motion.

I was right after all?

The memories recall moments stretching back to months ago, to all the moments you spent doubting that everything was really done; that you were really expected to move on like nothing was wrong. But hearing that your suffering wasn’t in vain somehow makes it seem like it was all worth it in the most twisted way.

“But look at you,” You interject softly, releasing a stagnated breath as Gavin looks on at you. “You’re here, next to me, and Gavin -- I won’t leave you. You won’t mess up, and everything will be fine..”

Your words fall out little by little as your eyes well with tears, but every single one is wiped away by the hand of the man in front of you.

Your reach up and place your hand over his. “I promise.”

Things are not all well, and little is fixed when you leave the hospital for the night. But somehow, you still feel like it’s just enough.

Gavin arises hours later feeling like his body is full of lead, unable to even open his eyes enough to focus on the dull light of the setting sun. But it’s with that alone does he realise that you’re no longer asleep next to him.

It makes him anxious in his delirium to think about how you’re probably home well by now, doing a face mask and scrolling casually through social media despite the unceremonious hour. You’re in the perfect spot for someone to take advantage of, namely referring to the Black Swan officers he’d recently become acquainted with.

But you’re blissfully unaware of his worries, making your way back home without an inkling of similar emotions in you. If anything, after months of your future appearing gray and blurry, the unexpected clarity of the situation eases something in you.

It’s a relief how lucky you’ve been.

Gavin’s thoughts go to the same concept as he pulls the thick hospital blanket off of himself, lips twisting into a thin line. It’s a miracle you’ve both managed to get so far -- and luck, unfortunately, only stretches so far.

It’s easy to get his original set of clothes back from the nurse, who seemed weak in the knees from the moment he approached her. The shirt smells distinctly of bleach, though his head feeds him the putrid scent of his own old blood regardless of how well it had been scrubbed out.

Getting out is the harder part. While the on duty nurse had been kind enough to slip things like his phone and badge back into his pocket, it was hell convincing the receptionist to let him check out even when he opted to show them his badge. Though eventually, with his name and number written down haphazardly on a loose scrap of paper, he’s given tight permission to leave temporarily.

The night air sends a chill down Gavin’s spine, and the quick change in temperature has the bandages covering his body sticking awkwardly to his skin. He tries to alleviate the discomfort, but the air currents feel odd in the way they swirl around him, somehow unfamiliar in the few days he’d spent locked away.

Though he shakes this away, writing it off just as he has hundreds of times before.

It’s harder than he expects to fly the short distance to your apartment. His healing wounds give way to a slight headache that only interferes more with the air around him. When he drops himself on your balcony, he practically has to lean over to catch his breath.

Gavin’s brows twine delicately together as he clears his throat a final time, straightening up and making sure there’s no sign of his trouble before knocking on the glass.

He smiles when he notices you padding over in your slippers through the sheer curtain. You seem casual enough that it lets him release a breath, relieved that his worries were for nothing. But then you suddenly open the door, catching him off guard once again.

“Gavin?” You’re rightfully shocked at his sudden appearance, the moonlight lining his quickly drooping figure in silver. “Why are you here instead of the hospital?”

He sighs gingerly, averting his eyes with a sheepish smile.

“I… was worried about you.”

You purse your lips lightly, your eyes going up and down his injured body. It’s hard not to notice the way he stands unevenly, no doubt to hide his limp and alleviate the pain in his torso -- but that much shows in just the way he slouches.

As if on cue, Gavin fumbles, letting himself come down into your waiting arms. His breathing is hard in your ear as you stroke the back of his head, cutting down a bubbling sigh in your throat.

Of course he came to check on me.

“You can barely stand, Gav. What were you thinking coming all the way here?” You lean back to see his tired face and chatsey him gently. “You need more time.”

“I was worried about you, ___.” He reaches up hesitantly to stroke your cheek with his thumb, silencing you for a split second as you watch him.

Gavin’s voice is raspy, showing not only his fatigue but also the pain he tries so hard to hide. “Can you allow me that much?”

You pull your lips into a line and look over his face. His eyes search yours simultaneously, but for what, you aren’t sure -- a sign of forgiveness? Leniency? You only know that whatever he wants to find, he probably won’t.

“Why would you be worried about me?” You ask, brows coming together in a delicate sign of frustration. “You were on the verge of death only days ago!”

He lets his hand fall from your cheek as he exhales. “I know. But your name is passed around a lot when it comes to the black swan officers. This time was no different.”

You don’t respond.

Gavin takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “So, I decided that after my evol leveled out, I would come and check on you. Just to be sure.”

“But what I don’t get, is why you couldn’t wait?” You say, your eyes narrowing slightly as his ajar mouth closes slowly. “You’re nowhere close to being healed. And if you were that worried, I’m sure Eli or someone would’ve--”

He interjects, his eyes darting away. But you don’t miss the way they soften. “Because I owe you this much, ___. I hope you can understand what I mean.”

You do. The things he had said when he first woke up in the hospital, about the situation and the pressure he hoped to alleviate, it all connects back to where you stand now. So, as much as you hate to admit it, Gavin isn’t completely in the wrong for coming.

You nod, sighing in renouncement.

“Yeah. Yeah, Gavin, I do understand. Sorry.” You say it a bit reluctantly, your eyes shifting down until Gavin catches your face in his hands again.

His lips turn up in a small but attractive smile as he nods. “Hey, don’t apologise for being concerned. I love you for caring.”

You could almost swear that you’re hearing things, but looking up into his eyes, you know you aren’t. Your eyes narrow again, but this time in a more goading manner.

“What’s that?” You hum quietly, smiling up at him as the distance between you slowly begins to close.

Gavin gives you the charming smile you missed, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as log as you never forget it.”

The kiss is soft and slow at first -- as meaningful as it should be, but it steadily transitions into what you’ve been holding back since the moment you met eyes again. His hand shifts languidly to cradle the back of your head, augmenting the already rising feeling in your chest.

His hands mould to you as time drags by, seemingly slowing down in your interaction alone. It makes you happy knowing that some semblance of your buried attraction is still eager to pop out again.

Everything passes by quickly after that point, to the moment you’re standing inside again, pulling away from him.

“Gavin, it’s late, you need to rest.”

He looks at you with a boyish glint in his eyes, his lips twisting slightly.

“Let’s stay up later.”

You step aside to pull back the covers on your bed for him. “But it’s sleep! You know, that thing you need to function--?”

He cuts you off by pulling you back up for another kiss, laughing with you as you ultimately decide to return his affection. But, then he catches you by surprise and lifts you into his arms.

“Ok!” You squeal in delight as you’re dropped right down onto your open bedsheets, your hair splaying messily around you. “Five minutes, that’s all!”

“Ten!”

The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them. But, one of the best is when you earn them back.

[nightwhite13]

at first i wanna write something serious, but somewhere along the way @vallern came up with a hc and everything went crack from there, and she helped me wrote this even tho she didn’t play the game, ugh her mind. so if u asking us about plot, tone, etc? we dont know her. this set in distant future or an au idk, no one knows

anyway, stay strong during this trying time, fellow clowns

tagging @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @poppy-sin-clair @malvinghlein @jmojellybae  @simpforpoppy

The sound of your heels echoed between the dull conversation of the other students, still lingering at campus after their class. You ignored the worried glances they throw at you. You didn’t care; it wasn’t the first time they gawked at you nor will it be the last, but this time, it felt different because you fucking knew why they were looking at you, and it’s not because of something good.

Good, bad, neutral.

Once upon a time it’s such a foreign concept for you; after all, everything is acceptable in the name of profit, your father once said to you when he taught you everything you need to know to take over the family’s company.

“Poppy, wait!”

You grit your teeth and walked faster, thankful because unlike some idiot you can actually walk in heels. Hell, you probably could climb Mount Everest with one.

“Poppy, holy shit, stop!”

You ignored him, but you can tell he’s getting closer to you.

You screamed when Carter caught up with you. He tugged your wrist until you stopped walking, almost making you fall because of the sudden movement.

“Let go of me, you idiot!” You hissed as you yanked your hand away from his big hand.

“Look, it wasn’t her fault!” Carter said between his panting.

Your cheeks burn, remembering what you just saw a few minutes ago. “I don’t care whose fault…”

“Persephone kissed her, okay, we were just hanging around waiting for you and…”

“Why are you even waiting for me?” You know your class was going to take forever so you told Bea to go on ahead with everyone else and you can go there with Uber or something since you just had a fight with your parents and they forbid Samuel to pick you up. You don’t want to hear the jocks complaining because you disturbed their lunch scheduled–and they called you drama queen–so you thought it's better if Bea and the others leave first.

Carter looked at you softly. “You’re our friend; of course we’re going to wait for you.”

You looked away, unable to keep looking at Carter's super cute dimple. “I don’t remember ever being friends with himbo.”

Carter laughed. “Look, if you don’t believe me, just see Veronica’s Pictagram, okay? She’s doing a livestream of us catching grapes with our mouth.”

“What the hell?” You better keep Bea away from these himbos, otherwise she would turn into one. Not that it would be that hard, since Bea had half of a functional braincell on her best day.

“Look, just, just see it for yourself, okay? Bea didn’t kiss Persephone, she caught her off guard. It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Poppy.”

“And why is she not here? Why is she not the one that chases me? Are you her minion now?” It’s not like you ever imagined a scenario where Bea chased you down like in those romance movies you secretly love starring midwestern America's favorite white actress, Reese Witherspoon, no.

“What? No, I’m not yellow, don’t call me a minion. That’s a low insult, Poppy. Even by your standard.”

“Carter, that’s not…”

“Everyone is trying to stop everyone from getting into a fight with Persephone.”

“What?”

“Well, the last time I saw, Chloe is trying to punch Persephone because she kissed Bea out of nowhere, and Ford and Luis are trying to stop her.”

You sighed, if this happened before Bea came into your life, you would probably have said something like she’s my minion, of course she did that. But now, after everything, after all the bad blood between the two of you, it was weird to hear that Chloe actually cared for you. She always has, but you still didn’t understand why would Chloe put up with your bullshit.

“Michael is holding back Zoey from calling her family’s lawyer.”

“What?”

“Zoey said what Persephone did is a sexual assault and she can get Persephone in jail for that.”

You knew that Zoey girl was smart and efficient. A tiny part of yourself was happy for Veronica when they both announced that they’re together now.

“And where’s Bea now? Why is she not here?”

Carter’s forehead crinkled. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“See, she doesn’t care about me! Then why should I fucking care?” You said, yet you actually fucking cared. That was the worst part. “I told Bea that skank is bad news, but what did she make me do? I had to apologize to that bitch! And look what it got me?” You raised your voice, trying to keep your tears at bay and jabbed Carter’s chest. “That bitch kissed my…” Girlfriend, you wanted to say, yet you swallowed the word back and it made your throat hurt.

The two of you haven’t talked about your status, not yet. Both of you had so many issues to deal with, and by the time it’s done, reality slapped you and reminded you that finals were just three months away. You couldn't afford to slack off; not if you wanted a relatively free summer vacation away from your parents' nagging and not-so-hidden disappointment.

“Look, Poppy…” Carter touched your wrist again.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carter raised his hands in surrender. “Look, just… Hey, Poppy, wait!”

You didn’t need to hear your stupid ex-boyfriend apologize in behalf of your stupid…

Stupid ex-something.

__________________________________________________________

Thankfully, no other idiots were stupid enough to stop you from going to your dorm. You slammed your door hard, ignoring a voice that sounded like your parents’ at the back of your mind, angry at you for your childish behavior. ("Do not slam your door on me, young lady!")

You growled angrily when you realized you were wearing Bea’s new jacket, the jacket you gave to her a few weeks ago. It’s not that you were trying to change her style. Honestly, all those times you were mocking her style was maybe, just a little maybe, because you liked her, just a tiny bit. You'd rather die than to actually say that to her face, though.

Good girls don’t fall in love with another girl, Poppy.

Your parents' words kept echoing inside your head every time your heart beat faster whenever you saw Bea, and you were always listening to your brain instead of your heart. You still felt guilty every time you enjoyed bickering with her and pushing her buttons, because she made you feel alive. It was wrong. It was wrong and yet it was all you can feel whenever you think about her. Before you knew it, Bea had wormed her way into your brain, and now she lived in your head rent-free.

You ripped Bea’s jacket and threw it to the floor after taking off your heels. You looked over to Bea’s red jacket, lying on the floor with the back facing you. Bea still had that mindset where she wouldn’t spend money to pamper herself. “Jacket is a jacket, babe. Why do I need to buy something expensive if I don’t like it?”

So you tried to find something that Bea liked and it wasn't that expensive. Honestly, you were surprised with Taylor’s ability to find stores that sold medium-quality clothes and actually looked good. It was a marvel, your friendship, ugh you want to barf every time you say friendship, with Taylor. You never knew that thank you and please had so much power to control people. Whoever said you can catch more flies with honey was right.

You thought that maybe you should take a really nice and long bath to relax and forget everything that happened. But on another side, you were curious with what Carter said. He might be a himbo, but he’s no liar. So you opened your Pictagram and sure enough, Veronica’s livestream was the first thing you saw. You wanted to click it, but then Veronica might know that you see her livestream, and you didn’t want her to know. So you used your rarely used picta.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” You could hear Veronica’s voice; she was recording Bea, standing between Carter and Luis. Suddenly, Veronica moved the camera, and you saw Chloe talking with Taylor, but you couldn’t really hear what they were saying.

When the camera was focused on Bea again, Michael stood next to Carter, holding a bag of green grapes.

“Simple, Louis will throw grapes at me and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth.” Bea said with a smirk.

“And I’ll catch Michael’s throw.” Carter pointed to himself with both of his thumbs.

You heard Zoey's groan, because how clear her voice was, like Veronica’s, you had a hunch that she probably sat next to her girlfriend. “Babe, that sounds dangerous. Can you do something that doesn’t have any probability with either one of you end up in the hospital?”

Veronica laughed and now she was filming Zoey’s frowning face. “Let them, it’s good for the view.”

“Babe, no!” Zoey pushed Veronica’s shoulder, probably, but it only made Veronica chuckle.

“Come on, are you guys doing this or what?” Chloe yelled from her place, she’s eating that spicy chips your great-aunt bought from Indonesia during her vacation there. Ford was sitting next to her, and she slapped his hand when he tried to take the chips bag from her.

“Michael, didn't Trixie ask you to buy grapes?” Zoey said. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s grapes?”

Everyone groaned at the same time, while Michael slapped his forehead while looking at the bag. “Oh shit, I forget!”

“Zoey, stop being a voice of reason for once!” Bea yelled.

Veronica’s camera was still focused on Bea and the jocks, and honest to god she stomped her foot like a toddler. You couldn’t believe these people once called you drama queen. “Well, I’m sorry, but without Poppy here, I’m the only one with the brain cell left between you intellectually challenged people!” Zoey huffed. She’s right; you’ve lost count on how many times you had to stop Bea and the jocks from doing something stupid and idiotic.

“Hey, I’m not that stupid! You take that back!” Veronica moved the camera to Chloe right before Chloe threw a chip at Zoey, both of them gasped in surprise. Thankfully, the chip landed at the table.

“Veronica, come on, record us!” Bea whined.

“Are you sure… Oh, Persephone.” Veronica’s voice suddenly went flat.

Your blood boiled when that fucking skank entered Veronica’s camera view. She pushed Luis away from Bea, while Bea waved at her.

“Oh hey, what are you…”

Everything happened all at once.

Persephone pulled Bea by her shirt and kissed her hard. You felt like you want to vomit and your body suddenly felt colder than before, you heard Chloe screamed, “You fucking asshole, let her go!”, and then she lunged forward only for Luis to and Ford to hold her back, while Chloe was kicking and screaming. And then you saw Persephone waved.

And that’s the picture Persephone sent to you and posted it on public for everyone to see. The one that made your world stopped spinning and holding you back from going to find Bea. She could kiss whoever she wanted, you keep telling yourself that, yet your heart shattered with every step you took away from her.

Veronica’s camera suddenly shook the moment Zoey stood up and yelled. “Let her go, or I’ll call the police!”

Michael pushed Persephone away from Bea.

The last thing you saw before the video ended was Bea’s furious face.

 ____________________________________________________________

You sighed deeply and threw your phone to your bed.

You knew it wasn’t Bea’s fault, you knew the moment you saw that bitch's smirk. And yet, you felt like someone burned what's left of your heart with jealousy and anger.

No, it wasn't anger. It was another emotion you haven’t acquainted with, one that is similar to what you always feel every time your parents break their promises to you.

Disappointment.

("We can't go to Seoul this summer, Poppy, Auntie Na-ra is probably busy. Besides, wouldn't it better to spend time with Peter? Help your dad get that tender, will you?"

"But I called Auntie a few days ago and she said she's free anytime!"

"Spending time with Peter is more important, Poppy. You could go see Auntie Na-ra at winter break. This is more important.")

But you didn’t understand why you would feel that way for this kind of situation; it should’ve been anger, consuming you with passion until you burned everything down within your reach.

It should’ve been anger, because you understood anger. It was one of your best friends beside loneliness and fear, you knew it too well and anger understood you like no one ever does.

But instead of the comforting burn of anger, you felt the coldness of disappointment at the bottom of your empty heart.

Before you could analyze this anomaly further, you heard commotion from outside of the Zeta building.  Even before you walk toward your window, you know the source of said commotion.

“Luis, I thought you said your speaker work!” Bea raised her voice.

“Well yeah, that’s before Ford threw my speaker to the freaking wall!”

“Bro, I didn’t know it’s a speaker, okay? It looks like a brick! Why did you even buy that?”

“So you like to randomly throw bricks at walls?”

You folded your arms and watched Luis trying to fix his broken brick speaker from your window. He slapped Ford’s hand away when he tried to touch it.

“No!”

Faintly, you could hear Irene Cara’s voice singing What a Feeling. You tried to keep your face impassive, but it was hard since your body remembered what you usually do while listening to this song. (Trying to copy Jennifer Beal's iconic dance routine and failed, every single time.)

If it wasn’t because Bea spent so much time using your Spotify (premium, thank you so much), you would probably be horrified that she knew your favorite song. You once offered her to pay for the premium, not out of the goodness of your heart, but because she’s kept forgetting to subscribe for premium feature, and you’re so tired hearing the ads every time you actually enjoying the flow of Bea’s playlist. She had, surprisingly, a decent taste in music.

Instead of accepting it like a normal human being, Bea just copied her playlists to your Spotify. Good thing you already tidied up your playlist and you had to make sure that Bea didn’t put a new song there. And also you made sure your private playlist stayed private. You don’t need her to mock you for your anime soundtracks playlist. Bea could say whatever she wanted ("You like a goddamn Naruto song?!") but Flow's GO!!! is an absolute banger and nothing could change your mind, thank you very much.

You almost lost your shit when Bea asked your favorite music genre. Good thing your father trained you well and you could compose yourself and answered diplomatically. You had to bite your tongue when you heard Bea said Hey! Say! Jump! was overrated. The disrespect!

You didn’t talk to her for three days until she begged for your forgiveness. God, your reputation would never recover if people knew that your actual taste was somewhere between a Midwestern white mom and a goddamn middle schooler weeb.

You blinked a few times when you heard the beginning note of Barracuda from Luis’ broken brick speaker. Well, you did accidentally tell Bea that you like this song, who doesn’t anyway? It was a bop.

But you didn’t tell her that your real dream date was actually rollerskating with Barracuda blast in full volume. You didn’t spend 137 dollar and skipped classes for three days straight to watch Birds of Prey nonstop during the first week of its release for nothing. Plus, Margot Robbie beating men with bat and rollerskating? Yes please.

“Yes!” Bea screamed in joy when the speaker was in the right place and actually worked. She looked up to your window, holding the speaker on top of her head. Well, at least she’s not holding her old Xiaomi with its cracked screen, otherwise you would probably—

Never mind, Luis was holding her phone.

You groaned, trying to hide your embarrassment. God, her family is rich now; can’t she spare some of the money to invest in her gadget? You hated it every time you sent her emojis and she was just “Babe, it’s just squares.” Or she just sent a screenshot of your text (she changed your name in her phone, it’s Satan Popsicle now) and it’s rows and rows of squares instead of emojis.

“Poppy, babe, please…”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of Spotify ads suddenly replaced Barracuda, making everyone gasped in surprise.

“What the fuck?!” Bea yelled angrily and looked over to Luis. “Luis, what the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I accidentally hit the next button! I didn’t know you didn’t have a premium feature! Who the hell doesn’t have Spotify premium anyway?”

You sighed deeply and rubbed your forehead, already feeling the incoming headache, while everyone was fighting with everyone down there. You saw Bea already hugging Zoey and Zoey was patting Bea’s back in comfort, you couldn’t hear Bea say something, probably she was frustrated because she didn’t use Zoey’s phone or that she blamed herself because she kept forgetting to download the Spotify's premium APK. Probably the latter, since you knew how much she loved that APK. You don't know, you're neither a peasant nor poor enough to go into the world of blackmarket apps. You're too pretty for Android.

You took Chloe’s shoes that you secretly stole from her room. Those shoes were hideous. Getting rid of it was basically a public service. Chloe should've thanked you. Then you threw one of the shoes, but it hit Carter instead of Luis.

“Get lost, all of you.”

“Poppy, what the hell?! How do you even get my shoes?!” Chloe screamed as she took her ugly shoe.

“It's so hideous, Chloe.”

“Oh you’re just jealous because they don’t have your size!”

You gasped and threw the other shoe at Chloe, it only hit her shoulder, damn it. “How dare you! Get lost, all of you, right now!”

“Oh, come on!” Zoey yelled. “It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Satan!”

“I don’t care, new money, get fucking lost!”

Bea held Zoey back and shook her head. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Zoey was torn looking between you and Bea. “Babe, what the fuck. Poppy…”

And then Bea finally looked at you with that soft and understanding smile. You hated it, you once yearned for it.

“It’s okay, come on.” She knew that you need more time, and she’s willing to give it to you because she was that nice.

Veronica was the last one to leave. She raised her eyebrow, but you stood your ground. You saw her type something, but you didn’t really think much of it. Veronica and her phone was one entity anyway.

But then you saw your phone, and it looked like Veronica actually had something to say.

 watch my livestream, youll know the truth

idc bitch

Me & zoey r gonna leave this weekend 2 hang w Jaylen, do whtvr u want with that info

meaning?

idk talk w ur gf or have tons of sex

shes not my gf

lol k

 You huffed loudly and threw your phone to your bed, good thing it didn’t miss or you need to buy a new one, again.

You paced back and forth inside your room; it feels weird without Bea here. Maybe you should go to her room? It wasn't her fault, after all. That fucking whore was to blame. She ruined your life once and while yes, sure, you had your revenge, now she’s back into your life again, and she’s already destroying everything.

You bit your nail, ignoring the sound of your mother from the corner of your mind reminding you not to bite your nails. ("Poppy, I will tie your fingers if I have to. Stop biting your nail, it's crass and disgusting.")

You gritted your teeth and took your phone from your bed and Bea’s old jacket from the floor. If this went wrong, you’re blaming Veronica.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Poppy, what…”

You pushed the door wide open, forcing yourself to get inside Bea’s room. Now you’re standing in front of Bea, unsure what to say. What could you possibly say in this situation, anyway? And you still don’t understand why you felt disappointment. At what, exactly?

When you craned your neck to meet Bea’s eyes, because fuck her for being six foot tall, you finally understood why.

“I hope you slapped that bitch after what she did to you.”

Bea chuckled and shook her head. “No, but I broke her nose.” She raised her eyebrow when you took her hands. “Um, Poppy...”

“Next time, if I told you that you shouldn’t trust a rich kid that isn’t spoiled to the core, listen to me,” you said without breaking eye contact.

Bea sighed. “Okay, I will. I thought it was just your old self talking shit about Persephone.”

“Well, yeah, that too.” You let go of Bea’s hand. “But that skank is basically a bad news.”

“Yeah, whoever thought she would try to get back at you like that?” Bea scratched her neck. “I’m sorry, but can we stop talking about Persephone now? I don’t want to hear her name ever again.”

You nodded.

“Is that all?” Bea raised her eyebrow. “I mean, you can just text me for that.”

You bit your lips. You don’t want to do this, you really don’t. “Okay, you’re right." You tried to fight the urge to say something negative or to backtrack.

Bea’s forehead crinkled. “About what?”

“Kanashimi is better than GO!!!,” you said with a grimace, as if you just swallowed a gallon of poison. Might as well.

Bea laughed loudly. “Finally you admitted that I’m right. Wait, how do you know…”

You never said Bea, you’re so fucking wrong and uncultured, GO!!! is the ultimate opening every time Bea said Kanashimi was way better than GO!!!, you only said that I’m too pretty to heard those songs, but I know you’re wrong.

You ignored her questioning look and climbed into her bed. “I’m using my Netflix’s account since I’m sure you don’t even have a Netflix account. I don’t understand why you’re so adamant to watch from Fmovies. You'd better pay for Netflix than for Nord.” Kids these days with their Netflix and shady streaming sites, they would never understand the feeling reading some batshit subtitle translation or watching thirty parts of videos on YouTube.

“What?” Bea was still standing in the middle of her room like an idiot.

“Well? Do you want to watch Naruto or not?” You huffed, already feeling your cheeks getting warmer. You never showed this side of you to anyone else, and now here you are, baring your soul in front of your ex-nemesis. Yes, you counted opening up a bit about your weeaboo side as baring your soul.

Bea laughed, honest to god laughed out loud while bending over and hands on her knees like you just said one of the greatest jokes in the universe.

You growled lowly in your throat and then you climbed down from her bed. “Fine, spend your weekend on your own then, I don’t care. I have a lot of reading to do anyway.” By reading, you mean there was a new chapter of Gokushufudou that just came out yesterday, but she didn't need to know that.

But Bea stopped you when you’re walking past her; she touched your wrist gently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You did.”

Bea laughed again, that stupid idiot. “Okay, yes, I am. But it’s because you keep saying ‘I’m too pretty to watch anime’ but you know way too much about it.” You just grumbled when Bea said that while doing an impression of you. It’s bad. You were way cuter when you were being haughty.

Before you could say anything, Bea bent down and kissed your forehead. You felt your forehead burned pleasantly from the gentle touch of her lips. “And of course I would love to watch Naruto with you.” She grinned. “After all, I taught you the power of friendship, believe it.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, I hate you too, Miss ‘I’m-too-pretty-for-anime’,” Bea said adoringly. “But we’re going to skip Shippuden, right?”

“Bitch, that’s the best part of Naruto.”

Bea rolled her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You have a bad taste.”

“No, I have a good taste.” You kissed her lips tenderly. “Because I chose you,” you whispered softly.

[lilacyennefer]

Hurricane — Part 11

A/N: It was really exciting to write this chapter so I really hope you guys enjoy it! A little reminder, this is just fiction, none of what's written in here is true so please keep that in mind! Have a nice weekend <3

TW: blood, mention of death, panic attack

You’ve been in hospital for almost 3 weeks before you finally could go home. Jax and your brother stayed by your side, even Chibs kept you company sometimes. 

“Jax, it’s fine I can pack my things.” You tell him while he’s packing your clothes and toiletries into a bag. 

“No way. You just take it easy.” He tells you firmly and you sigh, sit down on the hospital bed. The doctors gave you the order to not lift anything heavy, not stress, and just be careful in general since you got into such risk at the early state of your pregnancy. 

“Have you decided if you gonna go back to work?” Jax asks as he zips the bag. The doctors really recommend you to not come back while you’re pregnant, you need to rest as much as possible. 

“I probably won’t.” You admit “I love working, but I’d never forgive myself if something would happen to our baby.” As you say the word ‘baby’ you run your hand over your lower belly.

“Good. You know I’ll take care of you.” Jax tells you seriously as he helps you up from the bed.

“I know that, but I’m still worried about a lot of things.” You confess.

“Please, don’t be.” Jax shakes his head “You should only focus on healing and growing our baby. I’ll take care of everything else.” You look down to the floor and you start silently crying.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He cups your chin into his hands and makes you look at him.

“I’m just..” you sob “I’m so terrified, Jax. I’m terrified to leave, because that someone who wanted to kill me is still out there, and they’re probably not done yet.” 

“Hey, hey!” Jax pulls you closer as you cry harder. “I’m gonna keep you safe no matter what! You never will be alone, and I’ll find that person who did this to you!” You lay your head on Jax’s shoulder as you cry. In the past 3 weeks you cried a lot, often found yourself at the edge of a panic attack when you woke up and remembered what happened. Well, not exactly remembered, because you still don’t remember anything what happened that night, no matter how hard you tried. Jax didn’t push you, he was determined to find whoever tried to kill his family, with or without you remembering details. 

Jax let’s you cry on his shoulders as long as you feel like before he took you home. 

________

“I’m staying with you today and as long as you want.” Jax tells you as you step into the house that you share with him. 

“Clay won’t miss you?” You ask, and as you say Clay’s name shiver runs down on your spine, a really bad feeling is creeping on you, but you ignore it. 

“I don’t give a shit about Clay.” Jax says seriously. During the time Jax has spent next to you, you never once asked what he told the club why he’s staying away. 

“What do you tell him? Why are you not there?” Jax looks down to the floor and he clenches his jaw.

“I asked for a leave.” he says seriously. 

“You what?”

“I asked for a leave and Clay happily gave it to me.” Jax replies bitterly. 

“Jax, I’m sorry.” You say honestly. 

“It’s not your fault.” He shakes his head.

“I mean, isn’t it?” You start “If it wasn’t for me then…”

“Tate, stop.” Jax tells you forcefully, but guilt is already eating you and you feel tears in your eyes. 

“If I didn’t start saying how much I hate the gun business and I’d I didn’t get shot then you’d still be the part of the club what your father founded and what is your legacy.” You jabber. 

“None of this is your fault!” Jax yells and you stop, looking at him scared. You see him immediately regret his action, he runs one of his hands over his face.

“It’s not your fault.” He states again. Jax steps closer to you. “Months ago I found a manuscript. My father wrote it about his vision for the club. He didn’t want this, Tate.” Jax shook his head “It wasn’t just you who made me doubt every decision that Clay made.”

“But also your father talking to you from his grave.” You say, understanding what Jax just told you. 

“So, what now Jax?” 

“We will figure out who did this to you.” You just nod and wrap your arms around Jax, hugging him. 

“I promise it’s going to be okay.” You mutter into his chest, and he hides his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. 

________

“Jax, could we talk about what happened?” You just took a shower and you walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around as you sat down on the bed, next to Jax.

“What do you mean exactly?” He asks, looking at you.

“The accident. My assassination. Call it whatever you want.” 

“Are you sure you want to talk about it?” Jax asks you carefully. 

“I want to know what you know. Maybe it will help me remember something.” Jax nods.

“You were working late that night, so I went to pick you up. I was waiting for you in the parking lot, smoking when you appeared in the door.” He clenched his jaw “I should have walked to the door to meet with you and not wait for you next to my bike.” 

“No, Jax. You couldn’t have known it. You picked me up so many times before and nothing happened.” You say firmly. He ignores what you said and he continues.

“Then a black van appeared. It happened so fast. The next moment you were on the ground, bleeding and fighting for your life.” Jax shakes his head, like he wants to shake the memory away from his brain. Your heart beats faster in your chest, anxiety is creeping on you from Jax’s words so you take some deep breath to calm yourself down.

“You have any idea who wanted to see me dead?” You ask him in a shaky voice. He presses his lips together into a thin line as he’s thinking about what to say.

“We have a good suspicion, but we have no proof.” He says “We think it was Clay. He has every reason to do it.” You get up from the bed, suddenly it’s really hard for you to breath and tears are filling your eyes, again. You try to take deep breaths as you walk around the room, Jax gets up from the bed and walks up to you.

“Tate, you gotta calm down.” He tells you, but you shake your head.

“Is this what I get for wanting to protect my brother and husband? That I don’t want you to get into prison? Or worse?” You cry.

“Tate, listen to me. It’s not your fault! None of this is your fault! If it was really Clay who did this, he’ll pay for it.” You’re about to answer him when you hear a knock on the door. You look at Jax who’s looking towards the direction your front door is. 

“Stay here.” Jax says as he grabs his gun and goes to check who knocked on the door. You hear Jax open the door and you hear him talk to someone before you hear steps coming towards the bedroom.

“It’s your brother. He wants to talk to you.” Jax says and you nod, wipe your tears from your face and walk out to the living room where your brother is. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him immediately.

“Clay wants to throw a party for you. Celebrate that you’re okay.” Dan says bitterly, and Jax lets out a snort. 

“You kidding, right”? Jax asks, and Dan shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, no.” You stand there quietly, thinking about what your brother said.

“You know what” you start and both men looks at you “This is not a bad idea. Let him believe that we don’t suspect anything. Make him believe that we are okay. Maybe it will be easier to find something against him if we pretend to be buddies.” You state. Jax and Dan looks at each other, then Jax says:

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Tate.”

“Why?” You see him hesitate before he replies.

“I don’t think you can emotionally handle this.” You stare at Jax, thinking about what he just said. You know he’s right, the smallest things can make you cry and push you to the edge of a panic attack, and you know you should keep yourself relaxed for your baby’s health. 

“I’ll be able to handle it.” You say confidently “I want him to pay for what he has done.” Your brother and Jax just nods before Dan says goodnight and leaves the two of you alone. 

___________

Today SAMCRO is throwing a party for you to celebrate that you’re out of the hospital. Both you and Jax are nervous about the whole thing, but you took part in the party anyway. Jax parks your car in front of the clubhouse and you slowly get out of the car, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Jax walks next to you, he’s silently asking if you’re okay, and you nod, signaling him that you’re fine. You walk into the clubhouse with Jax, they’re already playing music and you know that they already started drinking. You could really use a drink right now to calm yourself down, but since you’re pregnant, you can’t drink. 

“Tate!” You hear Chibs yell your name and you turn towards the noise. You smile when you see him.

“How are you, lass?” Chibs asks you.

“I’m okay.” You lie. 

You poletiley chatted with everyone who came up to you, wearing a fake smile the whole time. You even let Clay hug you and tell you how happy he is that you’re okay, it took all your strength to not roll your eyes and punch him in the face. The two new members of the club who came from another charter not long before your accident kept their distance from you, and you didn’t mind honestly, two less people who you have to talk to. 

Jax was sitting at the bar, talking to Opie, and you were standing next to him, not feeling like sitting down, when one of the new members, Ritchie was his name, stepped next to you to ask for a beer from the prospect. When he reached for the beer you saw the tattoo on his wrist, a tattoo what looked really familiar to you, but you don’t know from where. 

Then it hit you.

It’s the same tattoo you saw on the man’s wrist who shot you.

Suddenly memories are rushing back, you remember everything what happened that night. The van. The tattoo. The Cut.

You feel like you’re going to be sick, you’re feeling nauseous and dizzy at the same time. You grab Jax’s arm and mutter:

“I’m gonna be sick.” before you rush out of the clubhouse. Jax follows you as you walk away as far as possible before you sink down on the floor, breathing heavily. Jax kneels down in front of you, you see him talk, but you don’t hear what he’s saying, all you can hear is your heart beating too fast, and you’re trying to get some air into your lungs as a panic attack rushes over you.

“I can’t breath.” You say, gasping for air. You feel Jax’s hands on your shoulders and you shake them off, pushing him away a little bit. “Please don’t touch me!” You beg as you fight with your panic attack. You slowly look around yourself, listing every thing you can see, telling yourself that you can breathe until you calmed down. Jax was still kneeling in front of you, and you finally looked at him, then around yourself to see who else followed you. Your brother was standing not so far away from the two of you, and you saw Chibs, Opie, and Bobby standing in the door of the clubhouse. 

“We need to talk, only the three of us.” You say, still a little breathless. Jax nods and gets up, waking to your brother and tells him something, you see Dan walk up to the guys and tell them something, and they walk into the clubhouse leaving the three of you alone. Jax helps you up from the floor, you fix yourself a little bit and wait for your brother to join you.

“I remember.” You state “I remember what happened, and not just what happened, but what I saw.” Both men looked at you impatiently so you continued “That night, a man jumped out from the van, his face was covered, but he was wearing a Cut. “ you point at Jax’s chest, on his Cut “The exact same Cut the two of you are wearing.” Jax lets out the air he was holding through his nose “But that’s not all. The tattoo on Ritchie’s arm is the exact same tattoo I saw that night.” 

“FUCK!” Jax yells. “I knew it, I fucking knew it!”  He’s walking around angrily when he suddenly stops and looks at your left where Gemma’s office is. You follow his eyes and you see Chucky standing in there. 

“Jax” Chucky starts “I think we should talk.” He says hesitantly and he looks at you. “All of you.” You look at Jax who looks confused.

“What do you want, Chucky?” Jax asks him irritatedly.

“Please.” Is all what Chucky says.

“Jax, c’mon.” You say as you walk towards the office, your brother and Jax follows. Dan closes the door behind you and says:

“I’ll watch if someone’s coming.” as he takes his place next to the window, looking out, but listening to your conversation. 

“What is it, Chucky?” Jax asks him impatiently. 

“Jax, I’m sorry.” Chucky says hesitantly. “I should’ve said this earlier.”  he looks down to the floor, almost ashamed. 

“A few weeks ago, I overheard Clay talking to Ritchie and Mike.” Chucky looks at you. “They were talking about making someone...disappear.”

“Jesus christ.” Jax says and steps closer to you, hugging an arm around you and pulling you close.

“I didn’t know it, I swear! I didn’t know they were talking about Tate until it happened, and now that I heard you talk about it.” Chucky says nervously “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”  

“It’s not your fault, Chucky!” you say forcefully. Jax looks at you surprised, he was expecting you to cry or have a panic attack, but instead you’re angry, so fucking angry. You look back at Jax before pure rage washes over you and you storm out of the office heading towards the clubhouse, Jax and Dan follows you. You tear the door open and rush inside, skim over the crowd to find Clay, and when you do you rush up to him. You place a hand on his back making him turn around before you punch him in the face as hard as you can, not caring about the pain in your hand what you felt after you punched him. You didn’t let him register what’s happening, you punched him again and again, until he was laying on the floor, you on the top of him, still punching him in the face.

“You tried to fucking kill me and my unborn child, you motherfucker!” you scream into his face what’s covered with blood, so is your hand. 

“You piece of shit!” you spit as you hit him one more time before you feel Jax’s arms around you, pulling you away.

“Tate, enough!” Jax tells you, trying to calm you down.

“You almost killed my child!” you keep yelling at Clay as he’s trying to get up from the ground. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Clay asks, wiping his blood away from his face.

“I’ll tell you what she’s talking about.” Jax says, more calmly than you, but you can hear the anger in his voice. “She’s talking about how you tried to assassinate her. Sending her into hospital, almost killing our unborn child too. I bet you didn’t know that she’s pregnant when you hired those two idiots” Jax points at Ritchie and Mike “to do the dirty job.” Jax steps closer to Clay.

“We know you did it, so you better own it.” Jax spits “And I want what’s mine by right. I want the President patch and you out of my father’s club.” Jax’s last words made the crowd, what was listening quietly so far, started quietly talking, and you could feel Gemma’s gaze on you.

Tag list: @innerpaperexpertcloud @lady-evans @agirllovespasta  @claudiahxrdy @mheart27 @oldstuffnewstuff @keithseabrook27 @alexa-rae-dreamz @rebel-without-cause-x

[butterbeeryuta]

johnny as your boyfriend; radio!au

a/n: thIS was requested a looooooong time ago, and i am so sorry that i only wrote this now. My mocks are finally done, and they actually went pretty well, so i hope my results will match whatever i am claiming skdjkjd. This headcanon was really fun to write, and it was overall just adorable oof alright, imma head to over to my next oneshot now. Hope all of you have a great day.

Okay so ya’ll are in uniVersity (as expected because I am writing this)

You met johnny 2 years ago when you were freshman looking for a job on campus cause um,,, college is a bitch

And you saw this uni radio show ‘Night Night’ which went live every wednesday at 9 in the evening

You honestly had no idea what they talked about since you’ve never listened to one

Despite the fact that your roommate Sicheng always talks about it and claims how great it is

BUT ANYWAY

You always enjoyed radio shows in general, and saw that they were hiring for another radio show personality

HMMmmMmmmM i wonDEr wheRe tHIS Is gOInG

You were one intellect my dear; you were studying political science at Konkuk University, meaning, you were one opinionated ass individual

But, you also had your crack side acCording to ur roommate

You fucking chased Sicheng around with those incense sticks cause you couldn’t find your go-to rolling pin to scare the shit out of him for eating your pack of strawberries

I swear the two of you are great friends ya’ll just show love to each other in quite a unique way

ANYWAYS

YeAH so you went to ask for the job cause you need money to buy a safe for your precious strawberries

You brought whatever requirements they asked for, and nyyOoooOOooooOOOOnged your way over there

It was a pretty old building, or radio station per se. not that it was bad or anything but, it isn’t exactly a place you would like to step into

Going up the stairs, you just saw a really TALL and attractive guy clearing out a few things in the booth. Your guess was that he was also probably new to this and whoever lent him the place didn’t exactly clean up the place.

With whatever courage you had in yourself

Or i guess how much sugar you consumed this morning cause you casually just walked it without contacting the guy

‘Uh... hello?’

HE JUMPED, whatever shit he was holding? Yeah it dropped

Which caused you to jump too, not expecting the huge ass pretty guy to have that big of a reaction

he looked over to you, surprised to see a person in the radio station because um,,, nobody ever goes there except for him

‘Hello to you too??? uhhh, not meaning to be rude or anything but, why are you here? Are you lost?’ He asks, looking extremely concerned

You just shook your head and deadass told him that there was a job offer for another radio show personality, and he looked eveN more concerned

Sorta like a ‘are u fucking serious’ face

‘Oh! Right. That job has been open for about a year now so I didn’t expect anyone to come at all...’

OHHhhHhh????????

Well,,,, i guess you have a better chance of getting the job?

‘Well.... do i get a higher chance of being accepted then for being the first to show up? You ask, unsure if whatever you said made sense, or was even socially acceptable

Imagine going to a job interview being like: ‘so i saw ur job offer, and since i actually showed up, I’m accepted right?’

Babe i dont think it works like that, but let’s continue

Johnny honestly had nothing to say against you though. You were right in a sense that you had no competition since you were the only one that actually came to apply. At the same time, he wanted the quality of the show to still be good even if there was a limited audience

‘Higher chance is indeed right. But tell me, uhh, what’s your name again?’

‘I actually never introduced myself, but it’s _______’

‘I’m Johnny by the way. So _______, why do you want to be a radio show host for Konkuk University?’

you had two ways to answer this question: (1) be blatantly honest that you really need the money, and talking to earn cash seems pretty great in your opinion or (2) repeat whatever the fuck sicheng has told you about the show

And of course, you were going with the first option

‘i honestly need the money because college is a bitch. And also talking and having discussions is a pretty fun and interesting method to get some cash in. Also because my roommate loves your show and why not ruin it for him by including me in it’

Babe

BABE SKDJKSDJKDSJKSDJSKDJKSDJ

Johnny actually wanted to accept you immediately. I mean for starters, he found you pretty adorable marching up to the radio station determined to get the job. And not only that, you were quite the talker, which is something that could spike up the show since it was just always johnny speaking

And also because he was feeling quite lonely but he would never admit that

‘Alright _____, meet me this friday to talk about next week’s segment’

OOFT

And let me tell you, tall boi’s assumptions were right. During your first show together, the two of you decided to talk about the book ‘1984’ by george orwell and although it may sound boring on a superficial level, yOU made it sound pretty interesting and johnny was actually just laughing the entire time

You and johnny just clicked in an instant, and your way of describing things made ‘Night Night’ known by the students

Nobody could ever forget your infamous line about the book: ‘george orwell’s sexual frustration is honestly so transparent in the book; all he needed was to get his dick wet then maybe he wouldn’t have let julia and winston be caught by the thoughtpolice.’

And things like this happened every wednesday. The pattern of your radio show just included you being you, and johnny trying to make shit be on track

The two of you were doing it for a very long time now, and back to toDAY where ya’ll have been doing it for two years, well... it would be a lie to say you hadn’t developed feelings for johnny

of course the man was beautiful and well-built. But his personality and laugh? Yeah sicheng should’ve warned you about that.

He is probably one of the most open-minded person in the world, and he knows a bit about everything, making him so well-rounded. And and and he’s to kind???

If you tell him that you can’t make it to the radio show, he says it’s okay and even gives you snacks the moment you come back and he just makes you so soft in general i—

Meanwhile for johnny, damn is he in love with you

Over the past 2 years, you definitely helped him open up more. With the way you speak along with your galaxy brain, he couldn’t help but fall for you? You were intelligent, you had your own mind, and being friendly and funny in general is something johnny really liked about you

The time when he realised he loves you was when you curled yourself up against the seat while you were discussing about what to talk about next week, and you just fell asleep. He noticed how soft and peaceful you looked, and that he would want to see you like this on a daily basis

Shit this is getting me all soft i wasnt planning on this nsndnsndnd

So yeaHHHHH this week’s segment, you guys were talking about the spanish conquest of mexico and peru woohoooo

AND you were very excited for this because this was one of your (my) favourite topics you learnt during your time in high school

‘OKAY, good evening everyone I am ______D,’

‘And I am JohnD, and welcome to’

‘Night Night. Oof, we’re getting better at our introductions aren’t we JohnD?’

‘Nope, you just learned how to say it without cringing’

‘Touché’ and ya’ll began your discussion. And things actually got pretty interesting.

‘So _____ you’re telling me that it was Cortes’ leadership that allowed the Spanish to successfully take over Mexico?’ He asks you in disbelief.

‘No you tall dumbfuck, it’s one of the attributes that led them to succeed. Both Cortes and Pizarro had disease on their side and better weapons, so of course they’d win. I just wanted to include leadership as i don’t know, to see the defeat of the aztecs from a new lens?’ You respond, deadass looking at johnny in the eye

‘Well, i don’t think i can argue with that, mainly because i am too scared too. That is it for today, but before we end this, i would like to add one more thing.’ Johnny says, which took you by surprise

huHhh?

You looked confused, in fact, you were confused.

What the fuck was going on?

‘This academic year is ending, and this so happens to be my last year here at Konkuk University...’

Oh shit

Your eyes softened at his words, just realising now that johnny was two years older than you, and yeah, he’s graduating this year

‘... this year has honestly been one of the greatest years here at Konkuk, but for me, I think of my my most memorable memories here was when ______D entered the station and giving me a huge fright’

You laughed a little, remembering how much you scared the man

‘Taking this opportunity, ______D, I want to ask you something’

Shit

Shit

Shit

BRUHHHHHHHHH

‘I just want to congratulate you and thank you for joining “Night Night.” You made the show livelier and massively increased the viewer rate with that big brain of yours—‘

‘I prefer the term galaxy brain’

‘—yes, galaxy brain. I hope that you can continue this radio show, and maybe recruit someone else while i’m out in the world of disgusting adults. So yes, thank you ______. And because we won’t be colleagues in a bit, will you be my girl/boyfriend?’

You were initially teary eyed, buT yEET those tears out biTCH what????

You wanted to say yes, bUt how?????

Do you just nod at him and go ‘ye,’ or do you like, confess?

You felt weird in the stomach. Not that you can exactly do 459343948 cartwheels in one go, but that’s exactly what your stomach was doing. If you were to speak, you could have vomited.

Idk what happened to you, but you took off your headphones, and went to the tall boy and just hugged the shit out of him cause umm,,,, SAME????

And johnny wasn’t sure what that exactly meant so he just hugged you back, bringing you to his lap and holding you tight against him cause honestly, when will he be able to do this to a person he genuinely loves

There was a moment of silence of you two just holding each other, until you realised you were still live with lord knows how many people were listening.

‘U-um, yeah Johnny, I w-will gladly be yours—‘

‘_____ I love you’

OKAY RETRIEVE THOSE TEARS BISH YOU CRYING NOW TF

You sorta just placed your head on the crook of his neck, quietly whispering to him

‘I can’t believe I love your tall ass too...’

‘SHE SAID SHE LOVES ME TOO!’

[dianapana]

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 9

Prompt-Prolonged Embraces

The exam had been awful; the questions were formulated in such a way that they were confusing to begin with but the subjects they asked about were also very difficult and hard to cover in 50 words. They had over 30 questions and barely an hour and half to finish, much like her, everyone else walked out of the room with their head bowed looking at the ground and doing everything in their power not to catch someone’s eye in case that person thought to strike up a conversation about said exam. They were also all moving in slow motion and zombie-like. The teacher had been cruel, Hinata had attended all classes, did all the extra work and studied as much as she could. Last night as she was looking over everything one last time, she felt hopeful and sure of her knowledge. When Ino quizzed her, she made no errors. But she barely had time to think so she wrote the first thing to come to mind; she didn’t even have time to look over everything before handing in the exam. Thankfully this had been her last exam this semester, this year and this University experience. Ino finished her exams two days ago and she wanted to go out and celebrate, but Hinata wanted to go home and take a 10-hour nap, wake up eat and then go back to sleep.

“I got out. Not 1 word abt it.” Hinata texted Ino and the blonde replied almost immediately witch a bunch of sad emojis.

Her first stop before going to the apartment and cry a little to let out her frustration and make herself better, was a fast food restaurant, she needed food and fast; thus the location. There was only one person in front of her so she was able to order her sub pretty fast. She sat herself at one of the empty tabled to eat half of it in a hurry. The other half she packed and put in her bag; she’d keep that one for later to eat after waking up.

Ino was in the living room on the sofa applying some more lipstick when Hinata walked in. Ino looked at her with sympathy and gave her a big hug.

“I’m sorry it sucked.” The blonde said but didn’t address more the topic because she knew Hinata didn’t really want to talk about it “What are you gonna do? Do you want to come with me and Sakura to a party?”

Hinata only shook her head. “I’ll go party with you this weekend, now I just want to sleep and forget everything I learned” Ino laughed

“Ok babe, but if you change your mind just shoot me a text and I’ll let you know where I am” The blonde said as she checked her reflection one more time before picking up her fanny pack and putting it around her waist. “Whoever decided to bring these back into fashion was a genius. I have my phone, money and keys in there and I won’t have to worry about losing my clutch or whatever the whole time” Ino’s gratefulness to the fanny-pack-Gods has been something she expressed whenever she went out in the past year.

Hinata went to the fridge and put the remaining half of the sub before kissing Ino’s cheek and dragging herself up the stairs. Before sleeping she decided to take a bath and relax. The tub filled slowly with hot water and she even decided to use one of her citrus bath bombs and some lemon oils. Before stepping into the water, she went to fetch her phone and played some music in the background. The moment she was fully undressed and in the water her muscles started to relax. Her brain started to wander; how she wished Sasuke was there, he would be able to distract so easily. Her body was indeed starting to loosen up but her brain was still overthinking everything about the exam from her actual answers, to how she wrote, wondering if the teacher could even read her scribbles at all especially since she rushed so much. She wrote her name right…?

Shushing her thoughts, she started to wash her body and hair slowly but even as she was rinsing her hair for the second time her brain was still spinning in circles. The bath didn’t seem to help so she got out of it much faster than she wanted. Dressing in her most comfortable pj which were a pair of loose shorts and one of Sasuke’s t-shirts she went to bed after drying her hair for a while; it was still damp but she was too tired to care. She almost wanted to force herself to cry a little because she always felt better after crying but no tears came so she did the next best thing, closed her eyes and thought of Sasuke; of his soft hair under her fingertips, his beautiful eyes when he looked at her, his soft lips as they traced her neck. She fell asleep with Sasuke on her mind and her mind gripped onto that thought and continued it into her dream.

In her dream they were having a panic, they just finished eating and were laying down on the blanket looking at the sky, pointing at clouds and saying what they looked like. She was just pointing to a cat folding origami when Sasuke pulled her closer and started kissing her neck. He breathed her in and hugged her close.

“I missed you so much” Her brain was still half-asleep but she was certain that the voice was real, as were the arms that were holding her close. Hinata opened her eyes wide only to see Sasuke looking down at her; he was still in his uniform. The moment their eyes met she started crying and pulling him as close as she could; her arms were around his neck her legs around his waist; if she could she would live in his embrace.

“I missed you too” she said still crying. She hadn’t seen him in about 4 days, he had been really busy and couldn’t skype; but she hadn’t touched him in over 7 months. Sasuke was a solder in the army and had been deployed for almost 2 years now. He returned for a few weeks when he had been injured 7 months ago but that hadn’t been nearly enough time together.

“How long are you back for?” His deployment only ended in another 3 months as far as Hinata knew. “Oh my God are you hurt again?” She asked and pulled away from him softly and looked at him as he was lying on her bed, he seemed fine.

“I’m not hurt” He told her with a smile and ran his hand over her upper arm. “Things worked faster than then we thought and most of us were sent home. Only a couple people higher in rank had to stay till the end.”

Hinata looked at him for a second. “So…you’re home…for good?” Her voice was trembling.

“Yes. At least until the next deployment which shouldn’t be very soon” His smile was blinding. Her tears were pouring again. Sasuke was on his back on the bed and she crawled on top of him; almost instantly his arms curled around her. They stood there embracing for a really long time. Sasuke was really tired after his journey and Hinata just wanted to hold him close and make sure he was real.

“I’m going to take a shower and change ok?” He asked, his voice was lower and he sounded sleepy. Hinata got up from him and allowed him to go to the bathroom. While he was showering, she went downstairs to the kitchen, she was sure Sasuke was hungry and the only food they had was her half sub which was nearly not enough for both of them. So, she put some water and rice to cook and, in another pan, fried some chicken breasts. The chicken was done quite fast and the rice was still being cooked so she decided to make a sauce; she cut some tomatoes, onions, peppers and carrots and put them into a pan with some salt, garlic, tomatoes sauce and soy sauce. As she was stirring softly two strong arms came from behind and hugged her.

Neither of them said anything; it was common for Hinata to cook while Sasuke was embracing her softly, his head on her shoulder. The rice was cooked so she stopped that burner but the sauce needed a bit more time which was fine since the rice needed to cool off and steam for another 5-10 minutes to be fluffy. The veggie sauce was done too and she turned off the last burner and took a step back into Sasuke. He took one as well and loosened his embrace just enough so she had space to turn around and hug him back.

“Welcome back; I just realized I didn’t even say that” Hinata said as she ran her hands thought his hair, it was longer than last time he was home but just as soft.

“I’m home” He whispered into her neck and kissed the skin just above her collar bone. They didn’t mover for a couple minutes before Sasuke’s stomach started making sounds.

“I think you’re hungry” Hinata said amused. It was amazing how Sasuke made everything better in her world, the exam and her bad mood felt like they had happened ages ago. All she could remember, all that mattered were Sasuke’s hugs. Hinata filled two cups with water while Sasuke fixed 2 plates for them to eat.

“You finished your exams, today right?” Sasuke asked between chewing.

Hinata nodded “Yes, it’s finally over”

“We should celebrate this weekend, you finished University” Sasuke was 3 years older than her; but she was also almost 2 years older than most of her peers; instead of going to Uni right after high school Hinata had to stay back due to some family issues. Sasuke did more courses than normal people for 3 semesters so instead of 4 years he finished University in 2 after which he went directly into the army. Hinata’s dad was also in the army and that’s how they met; during the first event Sasuke attended. They started dating about 2 months after; Hinata was a senior in high school and Sasuke had just joined. (They were 19 and 22 at the time; now they are 25 and 28)

“Of course, we’re celebrating, you’re home” The house was Hinata’s and Sasuke’s but during the 4 years of University Ino rented their guestroom but the blonde packed most of her things and sent them back to her home with a moving truck. She was to leave Wednesday next week.

They ate and talked some more about Hinata’s future plans to teach middle-school English, about Sasuke’s deployment which went really well, besides a few injures, nothing major happened. After they finished eating Sasuke went to wash the dished. Just like he did when she was cooking Hinata hugged him from behind while he was working.

He was finally home; whenever he was gone Hinata always was a bit on the edge but with him close everything was as it should be. “I love you” she said and kissed his shoulder.

“I love you too” Sasuke said and turned around and in a few quick moves picked her up and put her on the counter. He walked between her legs and held her close and kissed her slow and steady. He had missed her so much, not only in a sexual way but in a physical and emotional way. He missed holding her while they slept, missed smelling her perfume everywhere around him, missed her voice and they way she held his hand whenever they were walking together even if it was in the supermarket. Her positivism and innocence also were things he craved. He missed everything that made her her.

He deepened the kiss and Hinata crossed her legs over his waist. He placed his hands under her butt and picked her up still not breaking the kiss. Sasuke knew the house well enough to navigate it while kissing her but Hinata broke the kiss when they reached the stairs and smiled at him.

“Let’s go to our room” She said still smiling beautifully at him. Every part of her body was touching his in their embrace and nothing had ever felt that perfect before.

“Yes, let’s go” He would sleep with her in his arms today; of course, after ravishing some of her innocence.

[wc-ff]

VII.

Agents Morris and Steele were under a lot of pressure being that the two women they had just found brutally murdered in an abandoned home were the immediate family members of the mayor. One of the most important men in the city. The case was highly publicized for that reason and the media had constantly made up more crazy theories about what had happened every other day. They couldn’t even walk out of the precinct without being flooded by reporters that wanted to know if they had found any suspects yet.

It had been almost a week since the double homicide and the two detectives could tell that the press wasn’t going to die down any time soon. Especially not with the mayor still speaking out about it.

The phone they had found as evidence was fingerprinted that same day, but they couldn’t find a match out of the millions of people in their database. So now, they were just trying to get the phone to turn on. It had gotten pretty damaged when it crashed down onto the concrete and was left there overnight. But it was the only major key that they had.

They knew that whoever owned that phone would most likely be vital in figuring out the killer and closing the case for good. Everything they needed was right in the palms of their hands but they just couldn’t quite get ahold of it.

“Have you tried putting it in rice?” Ronald questioned with a loud snort causing Sandra to cut her eyes at him menacingly.

This was constantly her issue with him; he was never serious when he needed to be and it drove her crazy. “This isn’t a joke, Ronald. The entire city is depending on us to find out who killed these girls and this phone is literally the only thing we have that can get us there. Now, are you gonna keep fucking around or are you actually gonna do your damn job?”

Morris took the seat beside her with an annoyed huff but decided against saying anything at that moment. He was beginning to learn Sandra and one thing he figured out was that he had to choose his battles with her. He didn’t mind taking one small loss if it meant an even greater victory in the future, so he was going to keep his mouth shut for now.

“What do you want me to do, eh? Use my special mind powers to make it work or somethin’?” He shot back sarcastically, his strong Italian accent shining through with each word he spoke.

“Yes, Ronald. It’s called a brain.” Steele retorted sternly with the roll of her eyes as her head shook from side to side in disapproval. She swore she was one more formal complaint away from being banned from filing any more.

She had been trying to get the phone to charge and turn on for the past several days but to no avail. The phone had clearly endured a lot of damage due to the hard fall it took against the asphalt. She let out a frustrated sigh as Agent Morris sat quietly beside her since she had deemed all of his ideas to get the phone working were ‘idiotic’ or 'unintelligible.’ It was why he barely put any effort into helping her and would just try it out on his own time.

Sandra had a way of demeaning the men she came in contact with. She loved emasculating them and crushing their unnecessarily oversized egos. She felt that she could do anything that a man could do, if not better so there was no need to submit to them or make their lives easier. They didn’t need to be catered to.

She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she was in college and she was fine with that. She didn’t need a man to feel happy or better about herself. She was a strong willed woman and it showed.

But at that moment, she had just about given up on trying to get the cell phone to work. It seemed hopeless.

Sandra sighed and threw the phone back down onto the table as she frustratedly ran her hand through her slick black hair. “This crap is useless.”

“You tried taking out the SIM card?” Ronald spoke absentmindedly as he picked at the slight amount of dirt in his nails. He was big on keeping his hands and nails clean just in case he needed to use them later on in the after hours.

“Yes, but this damn phone just won’t open up.” She retorted, attempting to pry the back of the phone off from the rest of the device once again.

Agent Morris looked over at the cracked iPhone sitting on the table with a raised brow. All of a sudden, a crippling laughter overtook his body as he struggled to breathe, slapping his knees multiple times. He had forgot she was a damn Android user. As far as he knew, her phone still had a battery sitting inside of it.

Sandra gave him a stern glare, feeling as if he was making fun of her and she didn’t like it. It seemed as if she was the only one that was actually trying to solve this case. If she brought the suspect down, it would be the highlight of her career and she’d be damned if she allowed Ronald to mess that up for her.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Morris taunted her in a condescending tone. “iPhone’s don’t open up. You need something small and sharp to get the SIM card out.”

Amusement was laced in his voice and it was obviously making his partner’s blood boil. He was enjoying every moment of it after hearing her attempts to tear him down all day.

Instead of waiting for her though, he took it upon himself to grab the phone from off of the charger it was on and reach over to Sandra’s ear to remove one of her small stud earrings. She looked as if she was a lioness ready to attack her prey with every movement he made, but he just ignored her and continued to remove the SIM card from the broken phone. It would have all of the information they needed.

To make things easier, Agent Morris decided to use his own phone for further investigation since his was already unlocked from any specific phone company and removed his own SIM card before inserting the other one. Once that was done, he allowed everything from the card to settle into the phone in time before they began to copy down the person who owned the phone’s information.

They were able to grab the suspect’s phone number, carrier the phone was paid under, and billing information, which in turn held the phone owner’s name.

“Sage Medina… let’s see if the name comes up in our database.” Sandra spoke from over Ronald’s shoulder as he continued to scroll through his phone with a chance of anything else they might find.

Agent Steele moved over and sat in front of one of the hefty computers, typing in the name she had just repeated mere seconds ago. Her heart hammered in her chest as she impatiently waited to see the results, a small frown growing on her face once their database came up empty meaning that whoever’s phone it was didn’t have a criminal record themselves. This was making their jobs much harder than it had to be.

They now would have to go to the surrounding areas asking people if they recognized the name, especially since both of the detectives had no clue what this Sage person looked like. But it was a step closer in the direction they needed to be in if they were going to solve this case and neither one of them could rest until they did.

They wasted no time in gathering their things and making their rounds in a cop car that Sandra decided to drive. She was very cautious about who she hopped in a car with and she didn’t trust Ronald to get her anywhere safely in the slightest.

The two detectives visited restaurants, convenience stores, retail shops, and houses in the surrounding areas of the crime scene asking pedestrians if they knew of this Sage person. No one seemed to know who the individual was. It was almost as if having her name was a dead end in itself.

As they knocked on the last door on the block, Ronald gave Sandra a slightly discouraged look feeling as if this lead would have gotten them so far but also nowhere. She stared back at him expressionless, but she wasn’t feeling too good about how things were looking either.

They both turned their attentions back to the door once they heard it unlock, swinging open only moments later as a petite, caramel toned woman came into the frame. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Agent Steele and this is my partner here, Agent Morris.” Ronald gave a slight wave to the woman as he took in her figure and Sandra continued to speak, explaining the situation to her.

Her toes were painted a clean cocaine white and her smooth cocoa butter covered legs could be seen glistening even to the dullest of eyes due to the skin tight white shorts she was wearing. An oversized blue jersey was clad on her body and her natural hair was up into a curly puff. She wasn’t even trying in the slightest, but she was beautiful.

Ronald had already tuned his partner out by now as the woman invited them inside. They sat in her living room, her home smelling strongly of incense.

“You said you’re looking for Sage Medina, huh?” The gorgeous woman questioned as they all took a seat, one of her legs gracefully crossing over the other. “Yea, I know that bitch.”

The two detectives glanced at each other in shock, not expecting the harshness of her words to flow out so quickly. This woman obviously didn’t like the girl, which could have meant either a good thing or a bad thing for them. Only time would tell.

“She’s my boyfriend’s best friend and let me just say, shorty got a nasty attitude.” Chantell continued to rant off as Sandra turned to raise a brow at Ronald.

It could have meant something but it wasn’t like everyone with a bad attitude committed murder. Though, Steele knew it was something she should keep in mind, especially when it came time to profile this person of interest.

“Do you know where Sage lives?” Sandra interrogated further as she pointedly wrote a few quick notes down on her notepad.

Chantell shook her head. “Nope. You would have to ask De'Angelo about that. If I did know where she lived, I would have been pulled up on her.”

The two detectives shared another look, realizing how rowdy this girl was becoming. She was getting hype as if Sage was right in front of her. Though, they didn’t allow that to hinder their investigation as they asked a few more questions about the woman’s appearance before getting the boyfriend’s information so they’d be able to question him. Sandra recognized the description of Sage to be awfully familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who it could have been.

Agents Morris and Steele began to gather their things as they thanked Chantell for her time, both of them sharing a handshake with her. Sandra started towards the door with purpose, but Ronald hung back a bit as he slid one of his contact cards out of his front shirt pocket.

“If you ever find out any new information on her or her whereabouts or need anything else in general, don’t be afraid to let us know.” His tone was professional but low as he handed her the small rectangular paper.

Chantell had noticed the detective eyeing her from the time she opened the door and she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate the attention. It might have been a good idea to have him in her corner. After all, he was law enforcement.

She slightly tilted her head with the bat of her long mink eyelashes, her bottom lip loosely embedded between her teeth as their fingers brushed up against each other lightly. “I’ll make sure I call if anything comes up.” Her voice was smooth and enticing, like a siren singing to trap her man.

Ronald could nearly feel the blood beginning to rush to his lower half and at that moment, he knew he needed to get out of there before he did something else that gave Sandra a reason to report him. The thoughts that were now running through his mind were enough to make her write up a full page on him. He cleared his throat and Chantell smiled, knowing good and well that she was already making him weak. “You have a nice rest of your day, ma'am.”

“You too, Agent Morris.”

*******

Sage grabbed the brand new phone she had bought for herself a few days ago off her dresser due to her receiving an incoming call. A small smile graced her face once she saw her best friend’s name flash across the screen.

She had been pulling double shifts for the past few days to make up for the money she had to spend to buy herself a new phone, so they had barely seen each other and she honestly missed getting on his nerves. The good thing about working so much was that it kept her mind off of her troubling situation.

“Nigga who you is calling my girl phone?” Sage answered the call in the deepest voice she could muster up.

She could hear De'Angelo suck his teeth on the other end of the line. “Sage, I ain’t 'bout to play with your ass.” He shot back causing them both to burst out into a fit of laughter.

“How’d you know it was me?” She asked in between her laughs. “I wasn’t aggressive enough, huh? I should have called you a bitch.”

That only caused her best friend to chuckle even more. She knew that was one word he hated with a passion because he heard his father call his mother that so many times while he was growing up. It was then that he vowed to never call a woman out of her name; hearing it always took him back to when he was a helpless little boy. “Now, you know damn well you wouldn’t sound like a nigga even if you did call me that.”

Sage huffed lowly at her failed attempt, playfully rolling her eyes as if he could see her. She actually thought she did pretty well. Her voice was giving her very much manly vibes.

“Aye, but look. The feds just left my house and they were asking all kinds of questions about you.” De'Angelo just ripped the bandaid off as well as he could. He didn’t want to beat around the bush because he knew how her anxiety could get and this was bad enough news as it is.

Her heart immediately sunk to the pit of her stomach as she processed his words, the thoughts she was trying to push to the back of her head now rushing forward all at once. She gulped hard, but it did nothing for the desert-like dryness she could feel in the back of her throat. “How—What did they say?” She struggled to form her words correctly, her mind racing wildly as her heart pumped so hard that it shook her entire body.

“They were talking about the murder of those two girls… but I told them that you’ve been my friend since elementary and that there was no way you could do something like that. But I know they’re still gonna wanna talk to you about it so I just wanted to give you a heads up first.”

Sage buried her head in her hands for a second before she quickly removed them to hold her phone up closer to her mouth so he could hear her clearly. “How’d they find you? Why didn’t they just come to me to begin with?”

“That, I honestly don’t know Sage.” De'Angelo paused to think back for a minute or two. “Don’t they have your phone? Maybe that’s how.”

She sighed and stood up, beginning to nervously pace the floor as she subconsciously gnawed on the sides of her cheeks. The taste of blood filled her mouth instantly. “But that still doesn’t make sense on why they came to you. You have enough going on and I’m not trying to get you involved in this.”

“There’s nothing that could ever be going on with me to where I wouldn’t be there for you and you know that. If I could, I’d make this all go away for you but I can’t. So, all I can do is the best I can to comfort you when you’re down and help you out when you need it.”

Salty tears began to cascade down Sage’s cheeks as she remained silent. She didn’t want him to know that she was crying because it was a mix of appreciation that he was there for her and also being scared shitless. So, she wasn’t sure whether she could say they were happy tears or sad tears.

“Sage…” De'Angelo called out to her to make sure that she was still on the line. “You ok?”

She quickly wiped the clear liquid from her face and cleared her throat to rid her of that bubble forming in the back of it. “Yea, I’m good. I didn’t do anything so I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him of that or herself. She wasn’t sure about anything.

“You need me to come over?” He questioned, honestly hoping she would say yes. Chantell still wasn’t responding to him and he knew that he and Sage both needed to relax and relieve a bit of stress. When they were with each other, they forgot all about their other problems and they needed that in that moment.

“No, I’m just gonna head to sleep.” She responded, her eyes continuously leaking fluids.

Her main goal right now was not bringing anybody else down with her if it came down to it and that meant their spirits too. She felt she had already cried to him about the situation too much and didn’t want to seem annoying or overly emotional, so she just decided to handle this one herself. The fact that she was even still crying had angered her alone.

“Oh, well alright.” De'Angelo’s voice was evidently laced with disappointment but he would respect her choice anyway. “Sweet dreams then and if you need anything, call me.”

She nodded more so to herself and without saying another word, she ended the call before allowing the second wave of tears to come rushing out.

[oddcoupler222]

I remember a while ago you had a prompt fill where Margaery ran a radio show and Sansa fell in love with her voice. Is it rude if I ask what happened to it? It was so good!

not rude! I took it down, to reshop it into a longer oneshot, perhaps, but i’m really preoccupied right now with editing TWW so… I’ll post it again! 

——

It wasn’t like Sansa was… in love with… a woman she’d never met - because that would be crazy. And if anything, Sansa was more than cautious when it came to her heart these days.

Maybe that was why crushing someone from a talk show was easy.

It might have also had something to do with the fact that Margaery was kind of perfect. Of course, Sansa didn’t know Margaery personally; she wasn’t crazy.

But Margaery always seemed to know what to say; she was hilarious, she was frank, she seemed to have all of the knowledge in the world and when she didn’t, she sure as hell still sounded confident.

She’d first stumbled upon her show when she’d moved to King’s Landing two years, blindly following her heart and her boyfriend Joffrey across the country. They’d had a big fight, one of their first actual fights that had scared Sansa, and when she’d been walking downtown to calm herself (because, in retrospect, living with Joffrey like that had been such a terrible idea) - feeling a bit lost and a lot lonely - she’d ended up sitting on a bench across from the King’s Landing Chronicles.

And fatefully, really, staring up at the billboard that had the picture of a woman’s smirk emblazoned with the words The Margaery Monologues.

She’d started listening later that night, and had been drawn right in.

There were Thursday night politics - where the show had begun four years ago, when it had begun as a political talk show of sorts. Until, that is, when Margaery had absolutely gone off on one of the candidates running for Prime Minister -

(“I’m sorry,” heaving sigh, “You know I pride myself on thoroughly discussing all of the issues from every angle. But are we all just going to fucking pretend he is even a viable candidate? My gods, I feel like I’m taking insanity pills every time I hear someone say his name as if it should be said anywhere other than a prison roll call.”)

- and instead of getting her fired, her twenty minute rant had been what had gotten her personality recognized and the show catapulted into it’s seedlings of prominence.

There were Margaery Morning segments - the once a week broadcast that Margaery did Monday mornings at 8, where she functioned mostly as an acerbic news anchor while simultaneously peppering in amusing stories and diatribes about morning commutes and coffee shops -

(“and I never want to hear a word against that little place on the corner of Fifth and Vine at the base of Aegon’s High Hill again. Their chai latte is amazing - also, sorry to the very cute girl who had to work behind the counter with the jackass this morning.”)

There were Guest Star Tuesdays, where Margaery featured a whole number of people in a mix of both conversational/interview tone. It could be politicians, it could be authors, it could be a handful of actors who had appeared, business owners. Sometimes it was members of Margaery’s own family or her friends. Whoever it was, it was always fun. It always felt like somehow, Sansa was a part of their conversation.

(she suspected that was just a quality Margaery had.)

There were Listener’s Choice segments on Wednesday, and those were her absolute favorites. The topics ranged all over the spectrum. From requesting personal stories about Margaery - which they always got, but even more so on Wednesdays - to relationship advice and anecdotes, to book/movie/show reviews… the sky was the limit.

(“So, everyone, after tonight’s terrifying discussion about the state of mostly hetero relationships, I’m going to leave you with this: if someone treats you poorly, you can always do better. Don’t stay with someone just because you’re worried about being alone.” a beat, lighter, joking tone, “And - this one for the ladies out there - if men are disappointing you, there’s always women,” quiet chuckling, “Okay, okay, before I keep going on, remember to send in questions, comments, and stories to be addressed on next Wednesday’s show. Until next time, darlings.”)

She didn’t know if it was pathetic to admit that some of Margaery’s commentary and advice about relationships were the things that had given her the courage to walk away from Joff when things had gotten really bad. Actually, truly, scarily bad.

(“I know it’s not always easy to walk away from a bad situation – and yes, if we all recall from my many tales, I’m not one who often indulges in relationships. But for Scared Without Support, you wrote here that you need that extra step to walk away: I’ll be that extra step. Don’t walk - run - from this asshole. With police protection, if necessary. I’d offer my own services there, too, but I’m afraid my virtues lay with beauty and brains rather than brawn.”)

It may be pathetic, but it was true.

… and okay, it might have also had something to do with the segment that aired at midnights on Fridays - Margaery After Dark - where she talked about all matters pertaining to sex.

That was a relatively new segment; it had been added only two months ago, and the when time she’d listened to the first segment, Sansa had realized after laying in bed with her earbuds in, listening to Margaery’s voice as she’d talked about sex - (sex toys, positions, funny stories, seductive stories. Tales about her own sexuality and experiences but most specifically, Margaery ending her show by expanding on what being with a woman was and how it felt and her favorite parts of being with women, her voice a notch lower than it usually was)

It wasn’t until it had ended that Sansa realized she’d laid shock still for an entire hour, that her heart was beating fast, her cheeks were flushed, and that between her legs… well, she was more than a little aroused.

She was doing better now than she had in years -

After leaving Joffrey six months ago, she’d stayed with Shae, the older but protective woman who’d worked with her at the library, who had offered to maim Joff several times. But she finally had her feet steadily under her.

And her own apartment, that she was able to pay for with her part-time work in the evenings at the library (that she would hopefully be able to quit soon) and the fact that some more prominent people had started hiring her for her side job - baking cakes, pies, tarts, cookies… all sorts of goods, from home - thanks in particular to Shae’s fiance who worked at the capitol building.

The only thing that was messing her up, really, was her gods damn neighbor. Her next door neighbor who seemed to operate at a completely different schedule than she did. And Sansa knew that waking up at 4 or 5 (it was usually perfectly timed for her to listen… or re-listen to Margaery’s show from the previous night) in the morning to get through her current baking orders was not typical, and she always did her best to keep her noise level down.

(there had been a few instances where she’d certain things or, the first time she’d flambe’d and hadn’t realized exactly how sensitive the smoke alarm was, so - well, that had been a process that she was sure her neighbor didn’t appreciate. but she tried)

Her neighbor had no such qualms - he/she/they, who knows, as Sansa hadn’t run into them even after over a month. But whomever they were often came in late. Late enough that Sansa was often in bed. Sometimes with what sounded like friends? Groups of people laughing and chatting. Music being played. Sometimes bringing decidedly loud female company (that was how she’d realized that their bedrooms shared a wall).

In fact, the only interaction they’d had was somewhat passive aggressive (Sansa had left a tray of cookies outside of her door her second week in, with a note, “Hi! I’m Sansa, your new neighbor in 12B. Sorry you weren’t around when I knocked, it would have been nice to meet you. So, I’m sorry this might sound rude/weird, but is there a chance you could possibly try to keep it down at night? I have early mornings for work. Enjoy the cookies!”) -

and in return she’d received an empty plate back, with a prettily scrawled note (decidedly feminine but she wasn’t making any assumptions), “Hello neighbor, the cookies were delicious. And I would personally appreciate it if your alarm clock didn’t go off so early and if there were no more fire alarms before dawn. I keep late nights (sometimes) for work. I’m sure we’ll cope. 12A.”

So. She’d done her best to keep quieter in the mornings, and she thought she heard a bit of a difference in her neighbor’s guests coming over less frequently, and the female company seemed to also be happening a bit less frequently (though there was a burst of laughter from the other side of the wall and a lot of shushing, the night after she’d left the note, which had somewhat made her feel mocked, but. Oh well).

She didn’t meet her neighbor until almost two months after moving in. Running late to do a consult for a client who wanted Sansa to potentially make a cake for a bachelorette party, and after that she would have to essentially run to her shift at the library, she’d left her apartment, clutching a batch of tester cupcakes in a carrier.

And slammed right into the woman leaving the adjacent door, the cupcakes falling to the ground, hearing her own, “No!” leave her before she could stop it.

She was already bemoaning her cupcakes, because she definitely did not have enough time to redo those! Before she turned to her neighbor, and she could only stare in horror at the way the cup of what seemed to be steaming hot black coffee streamed down the woman’s white blouse as her exclamation, “Gods damn it!” seemed to echo down the hall.

Her cheeks burned at the realization that she was just - staring at her chest, her very ample chest, as her shirt stuck to her like a second skin, and her stomach flipped, even as apologies started rolling off of her lips, “I’m - I’m so sorry. I’m so -”

Everything died on her lips, though, the moment her gaze climbed higher and higher and…

No, she wasn’t in love with a woman she’d never met, but she’d certainly looked at the icon for her podcast to recognize the quirk of soft looking lips (though in the icon they were smirking rather than decidedly scowling) -

It was as though she was having an out of body experience, really. Because she could hear the blood rushing through her ears, as she slowly tracked her eyes higher than that recognizable mouth…

And took in Margaery’s face for the first time. Margaery’s absolutely stunningly gorgeous face, and Sansa was just - frozen.

Until that voice snapped her out of it, “Of fucking course today of all days,” Margaery murmured, tugging at her shirt in agitation, voice just as smooth and alluring - even pissed - as it was over airwaves, before golden eyes snapped at her, “Hello? Are you okay?”

Her voice was short, now, clearly a snap, because Sansa had been standing there for almost a full minute not saying anything.

Her heart was in her throat though, her stomach dipping low and, “I - y-eah?” she barely managed to squeak out.

Margaery quirked an eyebrow at her like she was a moron (she knew she sounded like one, though) before she sighed, and checked her watch, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I don’t have time for this. I have to go. Seven hells,” was muttered under her breath, before she took off down the hallway.

Margaery - Margaery - disappeared down the hall with a flourish of glossy, curled light brown hair and the linger of intoxicating perfume.

And Sansa was left standing there, with her cupcakes mushed down at her feet, also running late, her cheeks flushed, heart pounding and -

Well if she wasn’t positive that she’d had an actual crush on Margaery before, there was just no doubt about it now.

And if she really wasn’t sure about it then? She would have been later that night.

When, after returning home and changing into her pajamas, still somewhat reeling from her day, there was a knock on her door.

Where Margaery stood, with a bottle of wine and a small smile on her face, “Hello. I’m your neighbor, 12A, Margaery. It’s nice to meet you.”

That smile was almost dizzying to see in person - the voice was even more so.

“Uh, hi? Hi. Hello,” her eyes widened at herself, “I’m -”

“Sansa, yes - I remember the cookies,” her smile turns wry, “I wanted to apologize for earlier today,” she gestures to the wine, “If you’d like to have a glass  together.”

She clenched her hand around the doorknob, because her heart stopping and her mind screaming YES didn’t seem like the most conducive way to not scare her.

She had to clear her throat, “Um, I - you don’t owe me an apology,” is what came out. Really it was a loaded statement on her part - she owed a lot to Margaery, inadvertently. Not that the other woman knew it, but still, “I mean, I did ruin your shirt. And I’m sorry. Again.”

Margaery waved her hand, her eyes going warm in a way that Sansa - well she could have only imagined Margaery’s eyes looking like that for the last year, “Well, I also caused you to drop whatever creation you had in your carrier and I’m sure it was delicious. And unlike you, I didn’t have the good grace to apologize earlier because I was a bit of a bitch and in more than a bit of a hurry.” She quirked an eyebrow, “Besides, Thursday nights, I typically have my brother and best friend over for some drinks and a bit of catching up, but I was hoping you’d like to join me tonight?”

That was how Sansa found herself sitting with Margaery, on her own couch, pleasantly flushed from the wine, an hour later. They’d covered multiple topics from their original… issues (“I should also apologize while I’m here for my late nights. Though I stand by the fact that your early mornings can also be a killer,” she’d winked and Sansa was completely charmed, “But I think we’ve gotten a decent rhythm down in the last few weeks.” - and they had.),

to light conversation about how they’d found their respective apartments (and Margaery’s eyes were alight with sympathy when she’d tried to skate over the Joffrey topic), until they’d landed on jobs, and -

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a baker; I truly ate all of your cookies myself within a few days,” Margaery sighed, almost dreamily. “I almost asked for more at one point when I was a bit stressed out, but I figured we didn’t have that rapport yet.”

“You can ask whenever you want,” slipped out, and she flushed, before she cleared her throat, “But I’m not a full time baker, yet. Just, a little home thing. One day, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she took another sip, before adding, “I host a little broadcast radio show of sorts, out of the Chronicle; I had a meeting with the executives earlier, which was why I was so - you know.”

This was where Sansa should have said, “Actually, sorry to be weird, but - I know. I listen to it,” or even, “Oh, that’s why you sound familiar, I’ve heard the show a couple of times.”

Instead, she blushed and gulped down her wine, before toying with the base of the glass, “Oh! Well, that’s, um, cool.”

Margaery gave her a smile and her stomach twisted so tightly she almost exploded.

Somehow, it became a thing.

Margaery started knocking on her door every Thursday - no longer ever really hosting her brother and friend, saying that they instituted a date night together - and she’d come in with a bottle of wine, and they’d talk. Way later than Sansa typically stayed awake, to be entirely honest. But it was like she couldn’t tear herself away.

… and sometimes she came over on Saturdays and sporadically throughout the week, too.

If she thought she’d liked Margaery just from hearing her on her show, her in person was so much more. Her smiles were bright and infectious, her laughter even more so. And it was so strange, because she was the same person she was in her podcast, but also - so much more.

She sometimes sat with her while she baked, or Sansa taught her how to make simple recipes, and Margaery looked incredibly adorable with a look of overt concentration as she got a bit of flour on her cheek.

Some nights, she would come over with her laptop and say she was doing “research” for work, and would murmur under her breath as she browsed the internet and made some notes for what Sansa could only presume was her next segment.

And they just… talked. About everything. Sansa told her about Joffrey for real and how she’d been in a terrible situation, stuck with him and terrified, and Margaery, with a fierce look in her eyes, wrapped her in a hug that Sansa could have melted into for probably her entire life. If anything, Sansa knows she’s truly, for real, in love with Margaery when Margaery’s next segment is an unplanned show on domestic abuse, complete with call-ins with a licensed therapist, and an impassioned, emotional speech.

Margaery told her about how close she’d been to her grandmother growing up and how she’d wanted to just make her proud, and that when she’d started her show it had been hard because it was really the first time she’d truly disappointed her -

(”I just don’t know if I want to fight to affect change if that means I’ll have to bite my tongue my entire life to do it,” she’d told her one night, voice softer than normal. And Sansa assured her probably too quickly, that her voice and opinions made her who she was and she desperately didn’t want her to change that).

The Margaery Monologues almost seemed like a double edged sword now. Because she felt guilty, almost, listening religiously - unable to stop herself - while Margaery had no idea.

(she felt very guilty, when, after a particularly in-depth and charged Margaery After Dark, she’d been unable to refrain to touching herself, listening to Margaery’s voice. She’d attempted to just sleep, but had tossed and turned, just hearing Margaery as she’d talked about what turned her on and - well, it had been a show based around female masturbation and Sansa ended up coming listening to Margaery talk about touching herself “Women are complicated, pleasing us takes practice. And most of that practice begins on ourselves.” And she’d paused after, heart pounding, when she’d realized that she was not quiet at all, and all she could do was hope that Margaery hadn’t yet gotten home and heard her)

But it was also almost better in a way, now that she knew Margaery as a person. Because Margaery as a person was so amazing and beautiful and even smarter, even funnier, even more witty, and charming and everything - that getting more of her through her show was just like an added bonus.

The worst part, really, worse than her guilt even was this -

“Yes, thank you for your nosy questions as we discuss relationship goals this Listener’s Choice Wednesday - I will end this segment by saying that I do indeed have my sights set on a very lovely woman.”

That comment came two months into their budding friendship. And it was almost like a punch in the stomach. The mentions of the mystery woman continued through the following weeks -

“She’s ridiculously gorgeous, like you would not even believe.”

“No, we aren’t together, but here I am like a pining fool. I’ve never been this kind of person before, and now - what the hell is wrong with me? Should I be asking you guys for advice now?” (that had actually lead to a great Listener’s Choice Wednesday in which Margaery had largely spoken to listeners comments and engaged with them through a life stream)

“For the first time in my life, I’m worried about making a move. Typically I would have no problem, even if she’s presumed straight. But there’s something about her that I just can’t stand the thought of scaring off.” (okay, and Margaery was just so - sweet? It hurt in good and bad ways).

Especially because Margaery never spoke about Dream Girl - the object of Margaery’s affection had developed a nickname last month - to her, to Sansa. She never brought home any women anymore, at least not that Sansa knew of. And she didn’t mention dates, but in fairness, Sansa didn’t really ask, either.

“For tonight’s After Dark segment, we’re going to discuss fantasies,” Margaery spoke smoothly, her voice sliding through Sansa even as her stomach seemed to tingle, and guilt guilt guilt but she couldn’t stop herself, especially when Margaery delved into aspects of her own fantasy -

“And when bringing up fantasies, personally? It’s impossible for me to not bring up voice. Ironically, I’ve actually never been something that overtly turned me on, but… Dream Girl,” a deep-throated sigh, “We all know she’s gorgeous - well I do, and you all know my thoughts - but it was her voice that just, pulled me in. A little deeper in tone, especially when she’s concentrating or being thoughtful, and it just clings to certain words in a way that can make me instantly wet.”

Desire and jealousy, and she couldn’t stop listening.

“Honestly, at this point, one of my fantasies is for her to tell me exactly what to do. I want to watch her and hear her tell me how to touch myself, for her to touch me and tell me exactly what she is thinking, feeling.”

Torture.

“And, gods, in such a twist of fate, I heard her while she was touching herself. It’s happened a few times. That voice, moaning and whimpering and - I guess that is the delicious torture of living next door and sharing a wall with the object of your affections.”

Everything stopped, her breathing was heavy, and - she could only stare at her ceiling. Hearing things, she must be -

“Truly, all I can say at this point is that my true fantasy is to go next door and make her make all of those sounds myself.”

Sansa yanked out her earbuds, breathing heavy. 

And she did the only thing she could think to do -

She found herself outside of where it all began: Margaery recorded inside of the Chronicle building. She was lucky Margaery had brought her by there a few weeks ago after they’d had lunch, because the security guard had remembered her and let her inside.

She was in her pajamas, with her hair looking rumpled as hell, she was sure, and she could only hear in her head all of the doubts (maybe somehow she’d dozed off and thought Margaery referred to her as Dream Girl? What if she’d misunderstood somehow?) but she was ignoring them because she couldn’t stop herself -

Especially when she tapped on the glass with her shaking fingers, and she saw Margaery cut herself off, surprise taking over her features, before she said something into her mic, before she opened the door -

“I listened to you,” she confessed, her head buzzing and she couldn’t let Margaery get a word out first, “Your show. For months. I - I’d just moved here, and I was so lonely and you made me feel not alone. And I liked you, I just - I liked you the whole time? But I couldn’t tell you that, when I realized we were neighbors because I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of crazy person?” Even though now she was showing up like a crazy person…

“And so I listened in secret and never told you every time we hung out, but I just I liked you so much. Then you - tonight - you said… what you said… about sharing a wall,” gods  she only just realized that meant Margaery had heard her touch herself - thinking about her, though she didn’t know that.

She didn’t know which one of them moaned when Margaery surged up, her hands sliding through Sansa’s hair to press their mouths together. All she knew was that it was the best she’d ever felt, and she didn’t know if her mouth would ever stop tingling like this.

Especially when Margaery pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’d say this ranks fairly high in the fantasy department, too.”

(when she listened to the show the next day, still dazed and amazed, and realized that Margaery hadn’t paused it when she’d appeared, she realized it was both of them who’d moaned)

[lovelyfeh]

i have never loved a prompt as much as i have this one because it’s s o c u t e -

i personally hate how i wrote this one, so please do tell me if you’d like a rewrite anon! despite its length i just wasn’t very happy with how it came out,, it’s probably one of my worst works yikes

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

➼Love had never been something Dimitri could deal with easily. The poor house leader only had two sides when it came to these sort of things; a prince who simply stuffed his emotions down and put on the same facade of friendship towards whoever he may be interested in, or a hopeless romantic that couldn’t even look at his crush without becoming a complete mess.

➼You, unfortunately, fell into the second category. The mere mention of your name had his cheeks redden a bit, enough for about the entire school to notice. He’d lay awake at night plagued with thoughts of your kind eyes and perfect smile, and had had plenty of mishaps on the training grounds when he was lucky (and unfortunate) enough to be your sparring partner.

➼Telling others how you really you felt about them was hard enough for many, but Dimitri? He already bottled up so many emotions as is! Getting him to even utter a word about his love for you to anyone already proved nearly impossible, but saying something to your face?! He could never dream of doing something like that!

➼Of course, even he had his days where a tiny bit of confidence sneaked into his heart. Maybe he had caught your eye in class, or finally managed to hold a conversation without excusing himself halfway through. Either way, he’d march over to his room, seat himself at his desk, and grab a blank sheet of paper. He would write you a letter that contains exactly how he felt!

➼... But then Dimitri would freeze. His face would flush as he read over the words he had chosen, and back away from the nearly finished note in slight horror. Had he really planned on giving you such an inappropriate letter?!

➼While his brain told him to burn the wretched thing, his heart almost always told him otherwise. Dimitri always found himself placing the unfinished confession in a box underneath his bed, where every other letter of his resided. He could barely stand the sight of them! It only reminded him of how cowardly he became when his emotions were involved! (Plus, they all sounded wrong. Maybe it was just impossible to put his feelings for you onto just one piece of paper?)

➼You yourself had always been good friends with Dimitri, ever since the day you’d met at the officers academy, but he had always been quite distant. Initiating casual talk with him always ended with you staring a bit dejectedly as he rushed off saying someone was calling him or he had chores to attend to...

➼It wouldn’t bother you as much as it did if you weren’t just a tad bit in love with him. The Blue Lions class and his friends (save for one) always sang such high praise of him, and on the rare occasion you managed to interact with him for long periods of time you knew no one was lying. Dimitri was hardworking, sweet, and charming in his own lovable way, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when you found yourself smitten with him.

➼Considering how standoffish he always was towards you you highly doubted he reciprocated your feelings. While sometimes it made you feel just a tad bit terirble knowing you’d never get your Prince Charmmg, you had accepted it long ago. Better to push Dimitri out of your mind before you became a sulking mess!

➼Weeks passed with you desperately trying to get Dimitri out of your thoughts. Suddenly it was your day to clean the living quarters. You hoped it would distract you from your prince related troubles, but they only seemed to worsen when you stopped in front of his room door.

➼“Hello? Dimitri? I’m here to pick up any trash you may have.” No response. “Dimitri? Are you there?” Again, no response.

➼You looked down the hall both ways before slowly peeking inside, surprised to find the space empty. You let yourself in, ignoring the sudden heat in your cheeks at the feeling of being in Dimitri’s room, and rushed to grab whatever may be in the garbage bin.

➼He barely had anything to take, so you started to exit only to stop at the feeling of stepping on something. You curiously plucked the folded paper from under your heel. It had been crushed and ripped, but was still somewhat whole. When you squinted you could even see fancy looking quill ink that had bled through!

➼Despite knowing that this was technically invasion of privacy, you unfolded the paper enough just to see a few of the words that you assumed Dimitri had written. Sentnces had been messily crossed out, but the few that remained were barely legible due the ruined state of the paper. Thankfully, there were just something that you could make out, near the bottom...

➼‘I love you, S/O.’

➼Out of impulse, you gasped and threw the paper as if it had caught aflame. You stared at the note with a look of both disbelief, your shaking hands already reaching to snatch what you presumed to be some some sort of confession letter off of the ground. You had to see it again, you had to confirm it. Maybe you had just misread it? Maybe the words had blended together?

➼But the longer you stared at those four simple words the faster you realized what it meant. If your suspicions were correct and Dimitri had written this, he had just indirectly confessed to you!

➼Your eyes suddenly strayed from the note in your hand when you caught a glimpse of another paper sticking out from underneath his bed. You slowly reached out to see if it was yet another letter, but your fingertips grazed the corner of a wooden box instead. You gently pulled it from its hiding spot and stared at it for a moment. The feeling of guilt sat heavy on your mind as you barely lifted the lid and glanced inside, but almost every emotion besides shock disappeared at the sight before you.

➼You placed the top to the side and gaped at the amount of letters that were packed into such a small container. You grabbed the first one you saw, which was in much better shape than the previous one, and skimmed through the writing with tiny bit of hope in your heart that it would be addressed to you once more.

➼Sure enough, the first thing you saw was ‘My Dear S/O’. The note went into great detail on how Dimitri felt about you, once again ending with the same four words that still made your heart beat a hundred miles per hour. As if in a trance you went through each confession and didn’t stop for anything. Despite still being in the Dimitri’s room and the possibility of being seen still very plausible, you read through the entire box in one sitting!

➼You had halfheartedetly scattered the letters around you and stared at your personal favorite with loving eyes. Instead of being focused on your qualities he seemed to have been rambling about how he dealt with his crush on you. He retold you stories of nights where he was simply plagued with thoughts of you, and wrote heartfelt apologies for avoiding you every chance he got...

➼With a hum and a smile you held the paper against your heart. You took a long look at the mess you had made and sighed to yourself. You should really do something to make up for all the trouble you had caused!

➼And so you folded and placed each letter into your pockets, unable to bear the thought of separating with any of his adorable confessions. You searched his drawers until you managed to find a worn quill, and giggled to yourself as you started to write your own note!

➼The sound of students being released from dinner made you hurriedly sign your name and shove it into the wooden box. You slammed the lid back on and lifted it onto his bed before rushing out of his room to hide around the corner. Despite nerves drilling a hole into you you couldn’t help but want to see his reaction, if he even had one!

➼And you did get a reaction out of him. The sight of the loathsome box being on his bed, when he had not placed it there before, made his heart sink. Someone had found his confessions.

➼In a flash he had thrown the top to the side, going completely still at the sight before him. They were gone. Every single horrid letter he had written was gone. The box was completely empty... except for one paper. Confused, terrified, and just a tad bit flushed, he read what had been left behind for him.

➼‘Dimitri! I found all of the letters and loved all of them! You don’t mind if I keep them, do you? Ah well, never mind that. You have no idea how elated I was to see that you loved me! I was so worried to you disliked my presence for a while! It put my feelings at ease! Oh, but I suppose I haven’t responded to your confession yet, hm? Well, perhaps we can discuss this over chamomile? I’d love to finally get to know you better, and just being near you makes my heart flutter, so I think it’s a fine idea. What do you say, my prince?’

➼You had never seen someone blush as much as you did Dimitri that day. He looked on the verge of fainting, but the way his shocked expression slowly shifted into a smile put your worries to rest almost instantly. Who knew you’d be able to fall in love with the same person twice?

[gabriel4sam]

How Rex was almost blown up but, at least, he wasn't eaten by a wild eopie

Beta by the awesome @myurbandream , one of the stories I wrote for @clonewarssavedexchange I wanted to post it there the day of reveal, but the end of the week has been quite busy, so hop, here it is. 

Rex x Obi-Wan, post Revenge of the Sith

Under the cut, the story, for @captainrexsbiggesthoe

Ash was obscuring the air and Rex’s ears were ringing. He needed a few seconds to determine why the world seemed sideways: it was because he was lying flat on the ground. He rolled over with a pained groan, spitting out some dirt and half-decomposed leaves.

What….

Where…

He shook his head, like it could reboot his brain, but put that in the bad idea category when his pulsing headache immediately intensified.

Where the kriff….

No, first things first, was there a chance people would shoot at him in the next few minutes? Because it was more or less a daily occurrence and he was feeling too badly right now to add a few burn wounds from blasters.

Cautiously, he raised his head, watching for impromptu Imperials, bounty hunters, or crazy Sith. The usual, in a way.

Since nobody tried to kill him right away, he crept over to the nearest tree big enough to act as cover and tried to remember how he had landed himself in this situation.

There had been… there had been a mission, and he would surely remember everything, if his head would just stop ringing.

There had been a mission, with the young Rebel Alliance, and Rex had volunteered. He had been on Alderaan at the time… He had been on Alderaan, with Obi-Wan, because young Leia had terrible nightmares, and the Organa family had called Obi-Wan to help, terrified that Leia would unknowingly call Vader (or Sidious) in her sleep, would make herself vulnerable.

They had been on Alderaan and Obi-Wan was supposed to go back to Tatooine the next week, and Rex was supposed to go with him for a week of downtime, before an important mission in the Hapes Consortium. It was then that the news had come. Mon Mothma had narrowly escaped death on Coruscant. One of the Alliance operatives, a woman named Motée who Rex had met a few times, even worked with, had rescued Mon Mothma from the transport taking her to prison, awaiting a trial where she would certainly be declared an enemy of the Empire and executed. Now the two women needed extraction from the space station, a few systems from Coruscant, where their ship had fallen apart.

Rex had learned a few things that day.

One, Motée and Mon Mothma were two of the members of the long list of past lovers Obi-Wan had had, a list Rex always did his best to not think of, because it made him feel like a bumbling amateur on this particular subject.

Two, Obi-Wan was apparently bored enough on Tatooine (a planet where life was cheap and where, as Beru had once confided to Rex, Obi-Wan apparently couldn’t go a week without troubles with Tuskens/Jabba’s goons/slavers/all of the above) that going on a dangerous mission only a few systems from Coruscant, when he was still one of the most wanted men in the Empire, seemed like a good idea to him.

Rex had abandoned the effort  to convince Obi-Wan against taking the rescue mission twenty minutes into their spectacular row. When Obi-Wan was like that, trying to make him change his mind was fruitless.

“A bath,” Rex had said, “and then to bed.”

His lover had scowled at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Oh for Force’s sake… I still think you’re acting like an idiot," Rex had said, "and I regret that coming along to protect you is impossible, since I have to head off for the Hapes mission soon. But I’m not letting you leave on a sour note. So, no more talk about this idiotic, death-wish idea of yours. Warm water and your sexy lover in it. And perhaps when we're clean, I'll feel better enough about that mess to fuck the stupidity out of you.”

And then of course, because Rex (as a deserter from the Imperial Army) was only slightly less wanted than Obi-Wan, he had decided to go with the Jedi on that rescue mission after all. He had nagged Wolffe until his brother accepted the Hapes mission in his stead and… Obi-Wan had had the nerve to ask if it was really reasonable, as Rex's face was too well-known to risk himself so close to Coruscant.

What had happened after that?

Yes, he had decided this rescue mission was a good opportunity to field-test one of the gadgets from Alliance Intelligence, some prosthesis supposedly good enough to make a human pass for a Twilek. He had sacrificed, with a note of despair, his beard. Then he had almost been strangled to death by the damn prosthetic lekku, which had made Obi-Wan cackle, a very un-Jedi-like reaction in Rex’s opinion. But the Jedi had still helped with the prosthesis and the make-up on his face.

The prosthesis.

Rex groped around his left ear, searching for the emergency release catch, and the whole thing came apart, taking with it a good part of the headache. Rex turned it, examined it. The prosthesis apparently made for a good helmet: half of it was charred and ripped apart, but it had probably saved his life.

It had probably saved his life when someone had tried to blow them up , on the moon where they were supposed to ditch the public transport shuttle used to extract Mon Mothma and Motée from the space station, and to join an Alliance ship waiting for them.

Rex stood up and, blaster in hand, he went to search for Mon Mothma. He had credits in his belt, if necessary he could take her to an Alliance hideout a few systems from here and come back later to search for the other two.

He was trying not to think about Obi-Wan. Rex had definitely seen him fall, but the Senator was the first, the only priority. She needed to live, even if his lover died for it. Mon Mothma was a beacon of hope in a way few people could be, and they couldn’t let that hope die.

Kriff… that’s why smart armies didn’t send lovers as agents on the same mission! Because even if Rex knew his duty, his heart was raging, demanding Obi-Wan as the first, the only priority!

Of course, because nothing had ever been easy for Rex, the first person he found was neither the one he wanted to for duty, nor the one he wished to for love, but the one he had (he could admit it in the privacy of his brain)  totally forgotten in the adrenaline: Motée, the operative of the Rebel Alliance.

Her shoulder was bleeding, but she was quite busy interrogating a trembling Devanorian, with a small blaster so close that the poor idiot was squinting at the menacing barrel.

“Where?” Rex asked.

“I'll know in a minute,” Motée answered, and indeed, she did. Whoever had trained her before her time in the Alliance had done a good job. They only needed three hours to find the bounty hunters. It was, and Rex was quite vexed by this, a big collection of idiots. Amateurs, served by incredible luck, who thought they had made such a catch, simultaneously capturing the newly wanted Senator and the infamously known General Kenobi, two traitors to the Empire. The bounty hunters had been lucky, until Rex and Motée had arrived to rescue the two red heads. And the moment where Motée had broken down Obi-Wan’s Force suppression collar was the moment things really took a turn towards the ugly for the bounty hunters.

A few lightsaber-severed hands on the ground later, the four Rebels were escaping. Motée was piloting, and Rex was bandaging his head and having a crisis of self-worth.

Ten years ago, at the end of the war, Rex was sure they would have been quicker to rescue his lover and the Senator, but today, he was pretty sure he had slowed down Motée.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled, watching his face in the mirror to be sure the bacta was correctly applied.

It wasn’t the first time he thought that and once, a few months ago, a drunken Gregor had confessed the same thing. In his darkest insomnia-filled nights, Rex feared it was true, that his usefulness on the field was getting thinner every day. Time passed rapidly for the clones, engineered to grow up quickly, and soon he would be reduced to training new recruits, slowly going mad because he couldn’t take a more direct approach to destroying the darkness that was taking over the galaxy.

Would he ever see the end of the Empire?

Would all his still-enslaved brothers be decommissioned because they were getting too old, before rescue came for them?

He sat down heavily on the bunk, at the same moment Obi-Wan entered the small cabin.

“Motée plotted our way to the safest rendezvous point. We have three days of travel ahead of us.”

“Don’t know why they sent anyone,” Rex remarked, “she really didn’t need help to bring the Senator to safety.”

“Naboo’s handmaidens are strong and wise.”

“She was… that’s why she was so kriffin familiar! She looks…”

“Yes, she looks like Padmé would have, if she had had the chance to age past her twenties.”

Obi-Wan sat down next to him and put his hands on Rex's cheeks to inspect his wounds.

“If I hadn’t insisted on going on this mission, we would be on Tatooine right now and you wouldn’t have been hurt,” Obi-Wan said.

“Cyare, thinking like that is the way to madness. Our ship could have crashed down in your damn desert, I could have been eaten by a wild eopie-“

“A wild eopie, really?”

“-what I'm saying is that you can’t play the what if game, and even if I get killed one day, it certainly won’t be your fault.”

Obi-Wan made a self-deprecating sound, which didn’t surprise Rex for a second. Instead, he threw his arms around the Jedi’s shoulders and hung on until Obi-Wan got the message.  He guided their bodies until they were lying on the too-small bunk, so close together that Rex wasn’t sure which limbs were his.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Obi-Wan said.

“I didn’t-“

“You did.”

“You would have-“

“We can’t be sure of that,  any more than we could be sure that you would have been safe on Tatooine.”

Rex grunted, amused despite himself.

“ A vacation in your crazy desert,” he declared, like it was an order, “and I hope nobody tries to kill us for at least ten days. No, fifteen!”

“You aren’t choosing the right planet, if that's your objective, love.”

“I’m choosing the perfect planet, since it’s yours,” Rex said and even if he couldn’t see Obi-Wan, snuggled behind him, he just knew the other man was blushing.

Rex drifted into sleep, content to feel Obi-Wan safe and close against him.