#but like!!! lucas just came out on top. I trusted my gut and my gut said this weirdo.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qvid-pro-qvo · 3 years

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i can’t hold you now (and god, it kills me)

rafael barba x female!reader. based on “townhouse incident (season 17, episode 10).”

word count: 12,500

rating: mature, for the pain that comes when someone you love is just out of reach (canon-typical mentions of rape, and tw: vivid depictions of assault and rapes in progress, blood, guns, hostage situation. not fun).

The call from Liv isn’t exactly unexpected – you’re about halfway across town to pick her up anyway, and you’d shot her a text that had gone unanswered about her preferred coffee order. The day is for the two of you. However, the request is an odd one, or at the very least, inconvenient.

You hadn’t anticipated the invitation, and like a lot of things in SVU, it came last minute. If anything, you’d thought Dodds would’ve gotten the invite, considering that he was her sergeant. But, something about your interest in the technical aspects of the jobs, the medical aspects of the jobs, hell, the lab as a whole, had caught Liv’s eye, and so when these innovations came up, a new way to look at DNA, your name was always on the list. It was an honor, and spending the day with the lieutenant never disappointed.

You answer her call with a smile. “Hey, I’m on my way, I promise. I just needed the caffeine boost for another day of lectures,” you tell her. Your voice is light, and the clock in your car tells you that there’s plenty of time. “Like, ten minutes?”

Your boss’s little chuckle is light, but there’s something strained in it. “Not a big fan of those seats personally, but. We’ve got to make a stop first.”

You reach down for your iced coffee, taking a long gulp. The sweetness on your tongue makes you smile, mainly because you can see Barba wincing at the sugary mess you insist on downing.

Rafael Barba. The A.D.A. for the Special Victims Unit, the transfer from Kings County, Harvard Law graduate, Bronx native… and your boyfriend. Even thinking it makes you smile around your straw.

It’d started off like anything else, you and Rafael. Meeting in the squad room after you’d joined up. Bickering and squabbling, different people with different worldviews in high stress situations. The amount of times Liv’s eyes had rolled at the two of you bickering could’ve broken world records. (Amanda was known for leaving the room with her hands up in the air when the two of you got particularly biting, especially if Carisi was added like a cherry on top.)

But then you’d watched him soften. Watched his way with the victims soften, watched his eyes soften. Watched squabbling and bickering turned into standing side-by-side and making snide comments from the other side of one-way glasses. Energy against turned into energy together, and the two of you became a duo that could convince a defendant of anything in those interrogation rooms.

(“At least they’re being productive,” Fin had snarked to Liv, as the two of them watched the interrogation unfold. “Last time they fought paperwork got held up for a week just to spite him.”)

And then the other shoe dropped, as it always did, with a case.

Squabbling turned into standing over his desk, facing him down over a file. You’d stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands gripping his mahogany desk.

“I will not stand by while people we promised to protect are thrown aside in the name of the law.” Your voice hadn’t even dared to waver, and he had stared right back.

His eyes had scanned you. Up, down. Narrowed, sharp, and you braced yourself for the return volley. And then he’d stared right back.

His hand reached out to cover yours. Squeezed it.

“Trust me. Neither will I.”

(The first kiss didn’t happen, then, but it came pretty soon after.)

Rafael’s a good boyfriend, even though sometimes his work prevents him from being as attentive as you know he wants to be. But there’s a catch, because there’s always a catch – you haven’t exactly told anyone yet.

At first it’d been just because it was easier. Because how can you tell the squad what you are when you don’t even know? But when long nights turned into early mornings, and conversations turned serious, it became the only way. To protect yourself, to protect the team, you needed to keep it separate. These two things could not mix, or else disaster would surely come of it.

(“I don’t even want to think about what Carisi will say,” he’d told you one night, fingers running down your arm, and you’d snorted before rolling over to kiss him, shut him up.)

So the now is like this: the day ends, he’s Rafael, and he teases you and tempts you and kisses you. The day begins anew, and he’s back to Barba, and you have to settle for good enough.

Even though he’s more, all you can be is colleagues in the squad room, in interrogations, during debriefs with Liv. Any affection you want to show has to be bottled up until those precious moments alone. It’s exhausting, but worth it, getting to know Rafael, and getting to really, truly care for him.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to the present. You finish your sip, raise a brow. “What kind of stop?”

“A favor.”

You slowly pull up to a red light. The coffee is down. The phone is in the passenger seat and jolts at little at the stop, so you reach for it, turn the speaker off. When you hold it up to your ear you can catch the little things: the rustle of Olivia’s hair against the microphone, Lucy’s voice behind her, something that sounds a lot like Noah babbling.

“What’s up?” You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the gun on your hip.

“Lucy works with another family, asked us to check in one them. Said the mother had bruises around her neck, shooed her away after saying that the kid was sick and the husband yelled at her.” Liv’s voice is tense, and you feel your shoulders rise a little. Your jaw clenches, too. “So, can you pick me up?”

Domestic violence cases always have your anger flaring, the thought of those victims stuck and unable to get out. Your sigh is short, sad. “Yeah. I’ll grab you and we’ll head over.”

“Thanks.” She signs off, and suddenly the sugar in your coffee feels like it’s churning in your gut.

For a moment your hand runs over your phone’s screen. Wakes it up from its brief sleep, ready to text Barba – to text Rafael – the update. Might be a little late. Favor called in. But then the light turns green, and you toss your phone to the side, sighing.

You’ll do it later. After the visit. When all is said and done.

Olivia knocks. It’s loud, repetitive, sure to get the attention of whoever’s home. Your hands slide into the pockets of your jacket, your toe tapping on the concrete.

“Did Lucy say anything else?” you ask your boss, but before she can answer the door opens. Slowly, carefully, and you find yourself looking over every detail the woman who peeks out offers.

She looks exhausted, first of all. Her eyes are watery, and you can clearly see the bruising. One hand is holding the door open, the other hidden. You wonder if there’s bruising there, too, and your hands in your pockets clench into fists at the thought of someone hurting her.

“Hi, Lisa.” Your boss greets. Her smile is small, but there’s something urgent in the way she does the same scan. “Olivia Benson.”

“Right, Noah’s mom,” Lisa responds, and she’s quick to tell them that Lucy’s not there.

Liv has perfected the concerned friendliness, and her head tilts a little at the assumption. “Well, actually, I stopped by to speak with you.” With a gesture to you, Liv introduces you as a friend, and you offer your warmest smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Crivello,” you say. “How’re you doing?”

“Well, Luca’s sick, so – so it’s not really a good time,” she stammers out, and you glance towards your lieutenant, who seems unfazed. When you look back, though, you see the injuries add up. The span of the bruises. The little marks on her face.

“You have a little cut, over your eye,” you tell her. Your hand starts moving to your bag for something to dab at it, clean it up.

But Lisa just shakes her head. She looks even more teary, close to letting them fall as she pulls back a little from the door. “I should go…”

Again, Liv just looks at her, and you see her brow furrow for a moment. “Well… how about we come back later? Is that all right?”

Suddenly the two of you hear a voice from behind the mother. It’s quiet, but firm.

“Let them in.”

It’s like a switch is flicked. The uncertainty gives way, and suddenly, Lisa acquiesces. Glances down at her feet for a second before opening the door wide, and the two of you smile at her as you’re let into the apartment. But your eyes see almost nothing before something clocks you in the back of the head, and you hear Liv’s cry as she’s shoved back against the door.

There’s a clatter, but the room doesn’t go black. The hit just grazes you, fortunately and unfortunately, and you stumble forward into arms that are anything less than welcoming. A woman has Lisa, a guy with sweat on his brow has Liv against the door, and a third is the one who’s grabbing you. Your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing, but you can see Liv lift her hands, see her look both of the captors in the eye.

There’s another girl, you realize. She’s young, a teenager, and when your eyes meet hers you can see her tears. The whole room comes into some kind of focus, and when you take it in your heart starts to sink.

Oh, fuck, what did the two of you get yourselves into?

Instincts start kicking in quick, even in your daze. Your hands test the strength of the guy behind you, which makes his grip turn bruising, and you hear the shouts of the men as they tell the two of you to drop your bags.

“Who the hell is she?!” one of them hisses, and your whole body shivers at the feeling of breath on your neck. “Who are they?!”

“My name is Olivia Benson.” There’s a shake in her voice, the adrenaline, the high, and your eyes blink a few times to focus in on her.

“Liv –“ you call out, but her eyes meet yours suddenly. She glares, and you go quiet, once again feeling those hands tighten on you. It’s as good as an order from her.

“We’re here by chance, okay, but the both of us are New York City police officers.”

The panic on them in clear, and you feel one of the hands holding you start to roam against your waist.

“Fuck, man, this one’s armed,” says the man holding you, and Olivia just sighs, nodding.

“I am, too. Okay? I am, too. I’m telling you now, do you understand?”

“Ralph,” the guy next to Liv says sharply. He’s jittery, and you see a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “Come take this.”

Your guy just stammers out something. “But I’ve got her, Joe.”

There’s no warning, from Ralph or from Joe. One moment, you’re being held to keep from struggling, and the next there’s another hit, this one against your temple. Liv’s voice is the last thing you hear as you crumple, and your mind goes blank, the room going dark.

When you stumble to consciousness again, it’s to the sound of sobbing. Your head is slumped forward, and the taste in your mouth is copper.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Every movement feels like fire, and when you blink your eyes open it’s to see one of the men, Joe, jostling the teenage girl in his arms, they’re moving towards another room. She’s screaming, Liv and Joe are talking, and Roxie is yelling. The cacophony of her voice and everyone else’s makes you wince and groan again.

“Roxie, this is on you. Let me in there,” Olivia all but snarls, and you see her get clocked across the face. Watch her stumble, get shoved on the bed. You’re pinned to the bed, you realize, as you try to reach for your lieutenant. Tied around it, your ass on the hardwood floor.

“Liv,” you whisper, and your voice makes her pause. You’re awake, after all. But the look she shoots you is sharp. She wants you to let her handle it, you realize. Throw herself in the line of fire.

Yeah, you think to yourself, unlikely without your company.

Joe. Ralph. Roxie. The trio that broke in. Ralph is… gone, now, nowhere in sight, and… where’s Lisa? Your eyes blink a few more times, the sounds around you ratcheting up to full volume as you wake.

There’s someone else here, another voice, so painfully young. A memory swims to the surface as your head swivels from side to side – Lucy takes care of their boy.

Liv hasn’t moved since she got hit, hasn’t said a thing, but the screams are raucous. They make your head spin, and Roxie only adds to it when her frustration reaches her limit.

“Can’t you just shut up? God, make him shut up,” Roxie snarls, and you blearily blink so you could turn to look at Liv. Her eyes are like daggers at the woman, who looks frantic at the noises Luca is making, the sound of… his sister…

Begging for his own sister’s life.

God. You feel sick, and combined with the concussion you’re trembling.

“You’re gonna need to untie me to do that, aren’t you?” your boss almost whispers. She’s frustrated, pulling at her restraints as her will battles Roxie’s. “Please, I’m not going to do anything stupid, just let me help the boy.”

When you look back at Roxie, she looks helpless. Even with the gun in her hand. And when she moves to untie Luca and Liv, cutting off her restraints, the sigh of relief you let out is audible, even with Roxie’s whisper threat over your head.

So Liv goes. Goes to Luca, quiets him, and her voice is so gentle. It makes your lower lip tremble, the way she cradles him against her, reaches for his iPad so he can send the world away. He doesn’t deserve this, not even a little, but Liv is there for him anyway.

Leaving you to stare down Roxie.

“You wanted this?” you mutter, and the woman’s attention shoots to you, her gun shaking ever so slightly in her hand. “It’s on you, like she said. All of this, right now.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, and Liv looks up, too, lifting from her spot next to Luca, who is thankfully engrossed in a movie.

“This can’t be the way you wanted things to go down,” she adds, and she’s able to stand to her full height, dwarf the woman who looks nothing more than a girl. Uncertain, even in her arguments.

“You don’t know me,” Roxie snaps back, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t want to, if you’re fine with your boyfriend raping a sixteen-year-old girl,” you hiss. Her gun shifts between the two of you, Olivia staring her down, you glaring up from your spot on the bed. “Do you even hear that? Do you hear what he’s doing to her, that sick son of a –”

“Well, Joe does Joe, and I do me, so you better sit down.”

“You can save yourself,” Liv tries, but the girl just raises her voice, pulls back. You duck your head to hide the frustration on your features, the clench of your teeth as Liv’s phone chimes.

When Roxie moves to it, you look up at your lieutenant, who spares a glance down at you. You must look a mess, because you can feel the slow throb of your temple, the stickiness of your hair that’s surely from blood. You can smell it, on you, but even after all of it, you offer a smile. A small grimace. And when Liv turns toward Roxie again, her toe taps yours.

“Who’s Lucy?”

Liv freezes. You see her shoulders tense, and for the first time since you’ve woken up another name dances across your mind. Noah. Oh, god. All of this, and Liv has Noah, and your stomach rolls again.

Your boss is quick. Her minds works, and as you blow hair out of your face she’s reaching for the phone.

“She’s my sitter. She’s also Luca’s sitter, and she needs to talk to me. She needs to know about my son’s daycare pickup.”

Wait. Pickup? It’s… it’s what, 11:00 in the morning? Your mind swirls with confusion, but in shock you realize that Roxie is handing her the phone, that Roxie is letting her text back. Your eyes widen, and quickly you duck your head.

It’s almost in prayer, you realize. With your hands tied behind you, with the feel of them going numb against the metal that’s hot from your own body heat.

Please, Lucy. Whatever she tells you. Get it to the right people.

Suddenly, a face swims to mind, and your eyes widen, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Liv is surely thinking about her son, but all you can think about is Rafael.

Please, Rafael. Please be the right person.

The wake-up call in the morning is a text, and Rafael Barba blinks blearily at the message. It’s almost habit that makes his lip curl up in a smile, and when he throws off the sheets it’s with a preparedness for the morning he almost never has.

Perhaps it’s just the expectation of coffee. These huge events usually have a few cups for him to help himself, too, and he knows the sight of him downing them will make your lip curl in disgust. Or maybe it’s the knowledge, knowing that going to this DNA conference will make him a better lawyer, a better advocate for the victims.

Or maybe, it’s just that the text is from you.

You’d been a surprise, when you’d met him. A veritable source of conflict on one hand, with snappy words soothed by smiles. A disregard for the courtroom, in more ways than one. A capable detective, who had a tendency to follow instinct whether it helped or hurt. At least, that’d been the pitch.

Of course, because it was Rafael, the start had been shaky. Bickering and bantering over everything and nothing. More than once Liv had to shut the two of you up with a raised hand and a raised brow, since gut collided with a man who wore suspenders and a belt.

(“If the two of you don’t get it together, I’m throwing both of you out,” she’d threatened one eventful evening, her voice very reminiscent of the tone she took with Noah. An unsteady peace was made through the end of the week.)

But just like the squad, just like Rollins, and Carisi, and Liv, all it took was one case.

One case to turn the tide.

From there, it’d grown. Moments alone, somehow snagged against all odds. Him and you in a side room in the courthouse, talking about deals. Visits to his office to break the monotony, banter and bribe with snack to take a break. You became a friend, first and foremost, and from there it slotted into place.

Didn’t take long for him to realize just how much he’d fallen for you. A kiss sealed the deal, Rafael finally working on instinct. But while the short-term was brilliant, the long-term was more… complex.

The ADA, together with a detective. Complicated to say the least, a disaster waiting to happen at most. But how could he stay away, knowing that you had a smile that was just for him? Eventually, the two of you had agreed – it would be a secret, from the squad, from the office. The only people that needed to know were you and him.

On the outside, you did your best to treat him like everyone else, treat him like before. Banter and bicker and bite. You’d slug him in the arm same as Carisi, and you laugh with him like you do Rollins, and you roll your eyes with him and Fin as the perps incriminate themselves.

But when the two of you were alone… when you knew you were alone…

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the thought of spending time with you even at work, can’t enjoy your morning texts in the privacy of his own apartment. Today is the DNA conference, after all, which is why your text isn’t surprising. He expects to see you there, you and Liv. You send him your itinerary, which matches his almost to the letter, and he thinks about you as he thinks about what to wear, thinks about you as he pours himself his coffee, and thinks to stop thinking about you as he pulls up to the conference.

And then… you’re nowhere to be found.

He double-checks the schedule you and Liv have planned out. It’s intricate, but there are overlaps. And in those sessions, he sits, thinks about saving a seat. But there’s no further texts, nothing, and that makes the lectures a bit harder to get through. He’s almost thankful for the text from Carisi, the one that pulls him up and out of his chair and out the door. Because surely this is what’s keeping you.

Got the push-in rapist.

When Rafael makes it to the precinct and immediately grabs a cup of coffee.

“What do we have?” he asks Dodds, who is the first to greet him. Not you. Or Liv. He gets filled in by the new sergeant, and by the time they make it to the one-way glass he’s noticed that the two of you are nowhere to be found. It makes his brow furrow, but soon he’s leaning against the window, watching as the man inside starts fidgeting.

“He was on top of the roof, got trapped. Had the weapon on him, too, tossed aside. It was clean,” the sergeant tells him, and Barba can’t help the lift of his brow.

“We’re sure?” he asks, letting the doubt creep in, and Dodds’ eyes narrow at the ADA.

Fin backs him up, arms crossed over his chest. “It was clean, Barba. We got him.”

There’s a bit of relief, and tension in Rafael’s shoulders drop. Fin joins the two of them in front of the window, and he nods at him. He takes a sip of his coffee, and the steps that stalk towards the squad are distinctly unfamiliar.

“Well, congratulations. You found another innocent black man.” The defense attorney is vaguely familiar, and his eyes scan the three of them with disdain (and some kind of sick glee at his own taunts). “I suppose we should be grateful that you didn’t shoot him.”

“He had a gun on him,” Fin says, no flair, just facts.

“Did he?” is the return, and Rafael looks between the two sides, brow raised. “Who planted it?”

That’s when the ADA decides then he doesn’t have time for this, and he lets his scoff sound over his coffee cup.

“Don’t troll. This is your client’s third rape. We have multiple IDs.” He says it with a confidence that he rarely gets to have, and it feels good to be able to reply with the knowledge that DNA will match, IDs will be made. Dodds again affirms the presence of DNA, forensics, and that’s that.

It could all go horribly wrong, of course, but he still has time to relish just a little in the assurances provided.

“Save it for the judge. May I?” The public defender moves smoothly into the interrogation room, and Barba watches him for a few moments before turning to Dodds again.

“Nice work.” Frank, but honest. And straight to the point. “Where’s Liv and Y/N?” he asks, casually, paired with another sip of coffee. There’s no urgency, even as he hopes that Dodds has some idea why you bailed.

But the sergeant seems unbothered, and Fin pipes up as he stands up straight, hands in his pockets. “They’re both still at the DNA conference.”

Barba stops. Pushing off of the window, stands up straight. Looks at the two officers in front of him. Smirks a little. Not a prank, he guesses. Something else came up, surely. “No, they’re not. I was there all morning. I would’ve seen them.” He doesn’t confirm how he knows he would’ve seen them, the texts from you on the cell in his pocket, but he does know that the two of you were nowhere to be seen.

And… well. That certainly catches the two of them by surprise. Dodds looks at Fin, and Fin looks back at Dodds.

“I’ll text her again,” Dodds decides. “Let’s wrap this case up, get it delivered to her signed, sealed.”

But at that point, there’s still a hesitant peace. A certainty that whatever is wrong will be resolved, wherever Liv is she’s there for a reason. Rafael finds himself hoping the same thing for you, hoping you are not far behind her, that soon enough your voice will be heard down the hall, in the elevator, your laugh pitched high among all else.

And then, the peace shatters.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem here.” Carisi’s voice is sharp, tight. His strides are long, and soon he’s across the precinct, at Fin’s desk. “Liv just texted this to Lucy, and… it’s bad news.”

Rafael’s brows inch up his head. His mind goes to the solution that’s obvious – that Carisi is overreacting. That nothing’s as wrong as the Fordham student says it is. He doesn’t even lift his pen from the paper.

And then Fin reads.

“Stuck at precinct all day. Pick up William at daycare. He has a playdate with Lewis and Y/N today.”

In a moment Barba finds his head spinning. He lifts up, looks around the room at the other men, watching as their own minds piece together the information.

William Lewis. Just the thought of him sets Barba’s teeth on edge, sets his body alight. He has to straighten so he can wrap his mind around the implication.

“William Lewis?” he repeats. Well. Says, out loud. “That’s… that’s not good.” But he remains calm. He has to remain calm. His voice is steady, even as it wants to tremble. “When did you last hear from them? From Liv?”

Barba tries to keep his cool, but he can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding. Can’t ignore the way that he turns to Dodds again. “Have you spoken to them today?” he urges, and the sergeant jaw is clenched as Rafael reaches for the phone Fin has in his hand.

His eyes scan the words. Over and over, just to confirm. He can’t help but hope against hope that Fin read it wrong, but everything is there, in black in white in front of his face. There’s a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I sent Liv a text, let her know we got the push-in rapist,” the sergeant explains. “She responded.”

“Same with Y/N. I texted her, earlier, and I got a reply,” Fin tells Barba, but there’s still something that’s got him on edge.

“But did you talk to them? Hear their voices?” He hopes the others can’t hear the break in his voice, the worry in his tone. “You didn’t actually speak to them?”

The silence is deafening.

For once, he and Carisi are on the same page. Their eyes meet over Fin’s desk. “That sounds like a 10-13 if I’ve ever heard one. It’s gotta be. Lucy said that Liv checked on a neighbor this morning?”

Dodds’ voice cuts through before Rafael’s can. “Where?”

The four men find themselves all turning to the nanny, who stands off to the side. Her worry, that brought her to the precinct in the first place, seems close to crashing over her.

“Go find out.” It’s not an order, not really, but it leaves Barba’s mouth before he can stop it. And without a second to waste, Dodds and Carisi step towards Lucy, while Barba looks down to his own phone.

It’s instinct. One tap, two, three, and there’s your name. His thumb sweeps over the screen before he presses dial, and within an instant his phone is at his ear. He’s dialed your number, what feels like hundreds of times, but the ringing stretches on and on and on. Each time it goes off, he expects the call to connect, for you to tease about calling during work hours. Can’t get enough of me at work, Barba?

When he hears your voice, he starts, wants to feel that relief, but the automated message is the only thing that’s going. His heart climbs into his throat.

One more time. He pulls back, taps a couple of times. Another call, this time to Liv. The same thing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Message.

Nothing. He tries both numbers again, with all eyes on him, with the same result.

Two of them. Two of their own. Gone without a trace. And all Barba can think about is the name William Lewis, and the sight of it so close to your own.

Nausea rolls, and he tries one more time.

“Barba,” Fin tells him. Reaches out, fingers on his desk. “Barba.”

When he looks down, Fin’s eyes are piercing him. There’s something in them, something that makes the lawyer think the old blood knows more than he ever lets on. That Fin knows exactly what the day looks like now, and what the next case will be.

“Find out,” he manages, and tries not to think about how he’s dialed your number yet again, the sound of your automated message the definition of insanity.

Your phone is in Roxie’s hand. It buzzes, over and over again, and then the same thing happens with Liv’s phone on the chair next to her. Your captor watches it, reads the name and then the notifications on your own phone. There’s a back and forth, a pause, and then she looks at the two of you with confusion.

“Barba keeps calling. And this guy, Rafael. Why?”

Your breath catches. Liv is on the bed, her feet planted next to you, and you hear her words, vaguely. Something about work.

Then you realize Roxie is staring at you, raising a brow your direction. You swallow, blink a few times. Clear your head, offer a tight smile.

“Just… probably calling to ask about a case. Let it ring. He’ll get the… the message,” you say, and her eyes narrow at you before setting your phone down.

You feel Liv’s toe tap your leg. When you look up at her, her eyes catch yours, and you feel her gaze sweep over your face before you shake your head.

Not now, Liv.

She taps your leg again, but you refuse to rise to the bait, and that’s when the door bursts open.

Joe says something, but his voice fades away. All you can see is the girl, the way her face is vacant now. The faraway look, in her eyes, and your chest tightens at the sight of her hair, limp around her face.

Your sympathy turns to anger in an instant, as she limps over to the bed. Liv’s voice is soft to the girl, but your mouth twists into a sneer as you look up at Joe, who sneers right back.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffs, and the rage is blinding.

“Untie me and you’ll find out,” you shoot back.

“Playing hero, huh?” Roxie spits, but Joe beats her to it, glancing toward your phone.

“Got someplace you gotta be? Someone at home waiting for a detective who’ll never come back?” His threat isn’t lost on you, and your instinct is gone, replace with the impulse to lash out, kick at his legs.

A third tap, a warning shot, but it’s too late. Joe reaches for your collar, and Liv’s hands reach out to stop him, press against his chest as he lunges.

“You’re okay, Joe, it’s fine,” she urges, and his mouth goes a little agape as he stumbles back.

“What the hell, Roxie? What is she doing untied?”

“She was helping with Luca –” you snap, just as Roxie says that Liv isn’t going anywhere.

“If she does, she’ll never see her son again,” Joe sneers, and he moves to retie Liv just as there’s another phone ring. But it’s not Rafael, and it’s not your squad. It’s the third wheel, it’s Ralph, and you watch as Joe’s anger is stoked again. It’s like watching a train you know is going to crash, your eyes drawn to the disaster as it happens. Joe’s frustration is only peaked by Lisa’s demands, and your admiration for the will of a mother is tempered by the way that Joe’s voice grinds on his last sentence.

“Now get the cash, or they’re dead.”

One thing after another. Your head, still pounding, can barely keep up, your energy gone from the kick. There’s a ring at the doorbell, and Joe’s corralling Tess downstairs. You strain to listen, to hear anything, but the muffled voices aren’t ones you can recognize. When Tess comes back up, she’s shaky, and Joe screaming at her doesn’t help.

“They were cops! What the hell did you say?!”

Cops? you think to yourself, and for a moment images of your team swims across your vision. Oh, god.

“Nothing, I just told him Luca and I were sick!”

Joe’s pacing now, and Liv is standing. She reaches out for them, and her voice is so strong, so calm. You’re still on the bed, attached, but you force yourself to breath in and out, to look up at Joe with Liv and try to talk him down.

“Now is the time for you guys to go,” she whispers.

“You need to stop talking,” Joe hisses, but your voice chimes in before he can think too much.

“This is only the beginning,” you add. It’s what you have to do. Make him think, make them second guess. Your hands pull at your restraints to no avail, and you huff out a breath to move the hair in your eyes. “You guys should get out of here, while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” Roxie asks, but she’s silenced by Joe. Your anger at him only grows at the way he grips her tight, enough to bruise her wrists.

“They are cops – both of them, do you fucking hear me? She is lying to you, and everything that comes from her mouth is a lie.”

“Joe, there is no perimeter,” Liv urges. “Look outside. There’s no one out there. If you sneak out the back, they won’t find out who you are.”

The conversation ends with one last word from Joe. A knife in his hand pointing at all you, even Roxie. “And we’re not going anywhere until we got the money.”

The next hour is ruthless. Your concussions settle in, and you keep having to force your eyes open as Liv moves to sit next to you. The lights and the sirens are relentless, and every so often you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the pain.

Liv’s at the bed, too, with Tess and Luca, and a hand reaches out to you. You hear Luca’s voice, soft and gentle. “Is she gonna be alright?” he asks your boss, and before she can answer you look up at them with a shaky smile.

“Hey, buddy. Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. Just. Just got a bit of a headache. Go back to your movie, okay?”

You try to ignore the way that Liv’s hand presses on your shoulder, the way you can feel her urge for calm through the touch. Try to forget that for a few minutes, that’s the only thing grounding you, her fingers on your skin and the knowledge that your friends are out there. Your family.

And Joe? Joe’s on the edge. His fingers keep messing with the blinds, keep pulling them down and shoving them aside when the sight of the cops steadily piling into the street overwhelms him. You watch his hands go to his hair, pull, and drop back down to his sides, watch his sweat drip down his forehead. He looks manic, he looks pissed, and Roxie’s whispered doubts only do that much more to drive him mad.

“Let Richard go,” Liv urges, at one point. “Let the kids go. Keep me – I’m your best asset.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Liv, you think. Not while you’ve got Noah.

“Keep me,” you press. Your hands are still tied, so you push forward with your shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need to do, but if you let the kids go, if you let Richard go, use me as a bargaining chip.”

“Y/N,” Liv warns, but you pull forward again, the zip-tie digging into your skin.

“They won’t come after you if I’m inside,” you urge. “Liv’ll make sure of that. Keep me, Joe. Keep me, and… and I can get you out of here.”

But before you can push anymore, Joe is shaking his head. Roxie looks frantic, and their voices drown each other out.

“Just shut up!” is the shriek that stops her, but Liv is reaching out to him again.

“Joe. Just let the kids go.”

“Will they stand down?” Joe snaps, suddenly, at Liv. You sigh out a groan, as Liv just shakes her head. “No. Not unless they hear it from you. You’ll call them, tell them to stand down. You’re going to get us out of here.”

“Joe, they’re not going to stand down,” Liv tries, but soon her phone’s in her hand, anyway, and there’s a gun to your head. You wince, tears springing to your eyes as you squeeze them shut. Liv’s voice catches in her throat.

“There’s – there’s no need for that, Joe –“

“But I’m not playing. Call them.”

“Okay. I’m calling my sergeant. Speaker is on.”

When the gun is pulled from your head you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You gasp for air, and when the phone call goes through, Mike’s answer is drowned out by your own breathing.

At the mention of a negotiator, he loses it. There doesn’t seem to be anything that doesn’t set him off, and Roxie can’t calm him.

“No, I want to get out of here,” he snaps, and your voice comes out raw.

“We have to negotiate, Joe.” You’re begging him, begging him to see reason. “We have to, if you want to survive.”

Liv fills in the gaps. “You have a family in here, Joe. You have two police officers in here. They will burst in here if you do not negotiate. That is where we are.”

“So – so who do you trust?” the asshole sneers, and the gun points to Liv, nudges against her shoulder. “At the NYPD.”

“My squad,” she responds immediately. Your heart warms, for a moment, before the chill of Joe’s voice freezes it again.

“Oh, no. Someone with more pull.” You watch Joe lean close to Liv, watch his breath puff in her face. “So I’ll fucking ask again. Does anyone at the NYPD care if you both live, or if you die?”

You look up at her. You can see her thinking – her eyebrow twitches for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene before her.

“What about that Barba guy?” Roxie asks, pointing her gun between the both of them. “He called both of them, he obviously seems to give a shit –”

Your heart climbs so high in your throat you choke on it. Liv’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and thankfully speaks before you can stammer out an indication in the negative. “No. Ed Tucker. He has pull.”

You try to hide your shock, the way his name twists your lips. There’s history there, more than you know, and Liv looks to you, brow furrowing, a silent plea. Something passes, between the both of you, a mutual understanding. About what it means to be someone that either of you care about.

This is what needs to happen. To get the both of you out. The both of you safe, to those who care about you the most.

“Ed Tucker, Joe. He’ll get you what you want.”

The street outside the brownstone looks like a battleground – the armored vehicles and lights flashing on closed windows.

Rafael’s steps are quick through the organized chaos, shouts from other officers as they directed the traffic around the area filling his ears, exhaust from engines rising up into the cool air. But there’s no time to linger, catch his bearings. He can only feel lost among the uniforms and bullet-proof vests. There is only the task at hand, the thought of you pushing him to keep one foot in front of the other.

And if his hands start shaking, well, that’s what pockets are for.

He sees Dodds in the distance, the man standing half a head above any others in the area. He makes quick work of the terrain, weaving through armored bodies, and soon he’s beside the man, who greets him with a tense nod.

“Where are we?”

“Ralph Volkov. Assault, drunk driving. Fired by the Crivellos’ after two failed drug tests.” Dodds is to the point. His steps are quick, and Rafael feels like he has to take two keep up with him. They’re on a fast track to the command center, and Rafael tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“A revenge plan?” Rafael hisses. It’s in disbelief, in horror. All of this because of some grudge? Your life over a job as a truck driver? “Do we think he’s in charge?”

“He’s not the ringleader. Through here,” Dodds tells him, but before the sergeant can reach for the door the counselor’s voice stops his hand.

“Dodds. Where… where are we?” When he asks again, he doesn’t mean for his voice to tremble, but it’s fraught with the emotions he knows he’ll need to put away.

The sergeant takes a moment. Ducks his chin, before giving an answer. One without fluff, or pomp, or poise. Just the truth. “As far as we know, they’re both there, conscious. Okay, as of a few minutes ago,” he murmurs. “But we don’t know what okay means. They’re alive. We caught a glimpse of them, both of them, through a second-story window. Some bruising, bleeding. But… the one with the phone is hopped up on something, and. We can’t get a rapport. Not a real one.”

“But we’ve heard them?”

When Dodds glances back, it’s with a sigh. Rafael tenses. “Just Liv. Her phone is the one they’ve been using. To make the calls. But she’s told us that they’re both okay, and I trust that… she knows what she’s doing.”

Rafael’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but Dodds doesn’t see. He’s already pushing forward, into the armored truck, leaving the lawyer’s thoughts scrambled. Your voicemail message seems to sing in his head. But the spiraling has to stop, and so he forces himself forward, through the door, chin lifted and steps long.

He can see him, at the end. One of the assholes responsible for taking you, for beating you. His shoulders straighten, and that fury is used to stalk close, tilt his chin down and glare. His presence makes the man shrink, and he relishes in that pleasure.

“Hello, Ralph. I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. Who’s we?”

He’s pathetic, the man in front of him. Voice a mumbled mess, clothes dirty. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and he can barely look Rafael in the eye. But he answers, slowly, blinking up at the lawyer. “Me and my sister, Roxie. We needed money, for my ma, she. She needs a new hip, she can hardly walk.

Dodds says something. Rafael’s mind is on the name. Roxie. Roxie. Roxie and Ralph, the fucking dynamic duo.

Suddenly Ralph is pushing back. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone either. And Joe came along. All of this was his idea, man, not ours.”

Rafael takes a seat. He’s level with this guy, and it makes him sick to his stomach. “Uh-huh.” His voice is hoarse. Bitter. “Joe’s his real name?”

The man doesn’t respond, seems to shrink back, and Rafael finds his temper flaring, his voice going sharp. His hand reaches out to snap under the man’s nose. He sits down, and the only place he’s looking is at the dumb son of a bitch in front of him. “Ralph. Look at me. Anyone dies in there, you’re on the hook for felony murder.” He doesn’t want to think about you, about your body coming out, not your life. His vision goes a little red, and he leans close with a tight tone. “You help us or you’re gone.”

That seems to get his attention, and Ralph nods, swallowing down his fear. “Joe’s his real name. Joe Utley.”

Fin moves to the laptop quickly, looking at his sergeant. Their glance is exchanged, but Rafael’s mind is fixated on the three names he has. Ralph. Roxie. Joe Utley. All of them responsible for taking you. For taking Liv. He finds himself squeezing his knee under the table, praying for a moment that the crime he prosecutes them for doesn’t have – fuck, doesn’t have murder in the damn headlines.

And then he gets a text from Carisi. His hand goes to Ralph’s phone, next to him, and the latest text shines up. The two kids, huddled together on the bed, Liv to the side, and you… sitting against the bed on the floor, looking up. There’s blood, on your forehead. Some down the side of your neck. Your eyes look glazed, dull, and all the blood drains from his face.

When he holds up the photo, he can barely speak.

“This photo.” His voice is raspy, and his hand is almost shaking. “Is this the last time you had contact with Joe and Roxie?”

Ralph confirms it, and that’s when he has to step away. He just hears a fraction of what Dodds says. It doesn’t matter. It just confirms the filth that has you captive in that fucking building. Has to pull back, take a breath. There’s a fury within him that only builds as Ralph pushes back, refuses to cooperate when you’re inside that damn townhouse –

Fin’s voice cuts through the chaos, goes straight to the point. Tucker and Dodds and Rafael watch on, as the detective leans close, scowls at the perp. “Let me ask you something, man. Do you ever want to see your sister alive again?”

Rafael swallows at that. Looks down at his phone. Can’t watch as Dodds holds up the phone to Ralph, can’t do anything but close his eyes and turn as the hand is dealt.

And then Ralph stammers. There is nothing more useless than a juris doctorate in that moment, watching as the man turns. Admits that he’s caught, that it’s done. Nothing more horrifying than the sound of Joe’s voice on the other end of the line, a furious shout of a curse before the line goes dead. And nothing more nauseating than knowing that whatever happens next, Rafael can’t do a damn thing.

“Son of a bitch!” Joe screams, and you can’t help your wince. The noise seems to rattle your brain, and when you open your eyes again the man is leaning on the fireplace.

The four of you – including Liv and the kids – had been moved downstairs as Ralph’s absence stretched longer. And no matter how much you wanted these bastards ended, you couldn’t help your prayer that Joe would just get what he wanted. Anything to keep him sane, to keep him from using one of the kids as a punching bag, or from hurting Liv.

But with Ralph out of the picture, caught by the police… you can’t help but notice the way that your chances get slimmer and slimmer. Your eyes flick toward your lieutenant, the strongest woman you know, and you can’t help but feel the doubt. Doubt that trickles down your cheek with a couple of tears, a mixture of blood and sweat joining it.

And Rafael… your throat closes up at the thought of him, swimming around in the back of your mind. Usually such a comfort, and now the guilt kills you. The knowledge that you’d – fucking hell, that you could’ve seen him for the last…

You have to physically shake your head. Enough that Liv’s hand reaches out for you.

No. You have to see him again. You have to.

Joe and Roxie are yelling now. Back and forth, back and forth, and you want to sink further into your chair but can’t get far enough away. It all bounces in your head, and everything just as you hear Joe’s voice scream into the phone.

“What?”

The silence is deafening. Joe’s ultimatum more so. And then the phone is shoved into your hands, along with a threat for your life, the gun pointed at you.

“Ralph, and the cash, or your pretty little girlfriend dies. Or what about… what about this one? This useless bitch, huh? Not much stopping me from putting a bullet in her head.”

Your energy is used to glare up at the man. You feel Liv freeze beside you as you lift your mouth to the speaker.

“He… he really wants Ralph back in here, Tucker.”

“Yeah. I, uh. Understand that. But that’s not something we can do right now.”

Your head drops. The phone and your hand drop. And Liv’s voice is next to you, soft. “He’s telling you the truth, guys. We’re not allowed to send civilians inside.”

“All right. Then I’m done talking.”

There’s a hitch to your breath at the end of Joe’s statement, and Rafael’s hands are limp at his sides. He can picture it so vividly – he knows what Joe looks like. It’s not hard to visualize him lifting a gun and aiming it at you. Barba barely notices he starts to tremble as he anticipates the sound, that one final sound.

Luckily the finality is something that Tucker doesn’t accept. And at the sound of Joe’s request to talk to Ralph.

After all, he knows what that look on Tucker’s face is trying to tell him. He sees the way the man turns to him like he understands. With Liv on the other end, perhaps that’s what he’s hoping to convey. The urgency, the knowledge that he’s doing everything he can.

Little does he know.

There’s yelling, fighting. Tucker tries to talk them down again, but Roxie and Joe on the other end of the line are going off at each other, and then there’s a clatter. The whole room seems to wince at it, and when there’s silence on the line no one can breathe.

“Everybody okay?” Tucker asks. But even when the silence breaks, the tension is still thick. Rafael feels it clawing at his throat. And Liv’s voice on the other end, shaking, makes him lift a hand to his hair.

“Okay. So we know that Ralph’s not coming in here, but do you have his money?”

The trade develops. Slowly. Too slowly, and your name doesn’t come up once. It makes Rafael’s twitch, and by the time the final deal is made, he’s had enough of it. One person. One person, and it’s not you. It’s not you.

The door is opening, and Rafael is gone before he can think. He’s pushing out of the van and starts pacing behind the command center, muttering something to himself. He’s halfway through the recitation when he realizes it’s a prayer, and almost done with it when he sees Carisi just a few feet away, making his way to where Rafael just left.

He doesn’t stop the detective from coming closer. If anything he almost welcomes it. Carisi looks almost as harried as he is, and he can’t help the way his lips twist at the familiarity of Carisi’s “counselor” in his mouth.

“How’s it goin’ in there?” For a first question, Rafael is struck by how little he can bear to answer.

“The… the father’s in bad shape. They’re organizing a trade,” he whispers, and hates the way that his voice cracks. The way he looks up at the row of townhouses and has to swallow his fear so he doesn’t vomit with it.

Suddenly Carisi’s face softens, somehow, even more. He looks at Rafael with pity. And while the counselor wants to bristle at it, he can’t.

“We’ll get them out, counselor,” the blond promises. “We’ll get Liv, and we’ll get them out –”

But when Rafael lifts his hand, it’s to silence him. To just glare, work his jaw, and try not to shatter so completely.

“It’s not just Liv,” he spits, and the admission takes even him by surprise. “It’s not. So. Please, just.”

He doesn’t know what Carisi is seeing when he looks at Rafael in that moment. He doesn’t know what the detective thinks. But no matter all of his words, his teasing, he knows that the man isn’t stupid, and can put the pieces together on a simple puzzle.

Who else is in that fucking room? Who else could the squad lose?

“I can’t lose her.” Carisi’s jaw clenches, his whole body tensing in Rafael’s periphery. But there’s no answer, because the detective isn’t stupid.

Not enough to make empty promises.

Mike’s eyes meet yours first when he comes through the door. He reassures Joe that his demands are being met – the money, the car, the goddamn plane – but he can’t stop looking at you. Maybe it’s the blood at your temple, the way your hands are gripping armrests on the chair you’re basically strapped to. Maybe it’s the dazed look in your eye that you’re sure you have, a concussion wreaking havoc on your system. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t help you.

Joe’s orders to strip had made too much sense – forcing them down to the bare essentials to come in and get the father out. But seeing it, seeing how vulnerable Mike it makes your chest hurt, and as he stands before Joe and his fucking assault rifle basically bare, you can’t help your desire to reach out to him.

“Everything is on its way,” Mike tells Joe, meeting his gaze head on – a steady lift of the chin while Joe fidgets.

And then the vests come off, too. And you have to watch Mike leave without any protection, his back so vulnerable, and you have to watch Joe’s eyes follow him, and once he leaves the breath you let out is audible. Audible enough to earn you a glare.

“What?” he snaps, and you just shake your head, offering a smile that feels like

“Nothing, Joe. That was a good thing you just did, letting Richard get the helps he needs,” you tell him.

There’s a beat, and then before you can react he’s lunging forward, his fist and thankfully not the butt of the gun smacking you across the face.

The kids scream, a horrific sound as your head is whipped to the side, eyes closed tight as you groan and try not to look at them.

“I’m – I’m okay…”

“You’re laughing,” he hisses, bending forward. “You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“Joe,” Liv says with a sharp tone. She doesn’t come to you, but her eyes are wide as your body pulls in on itself, barely able to look up and see her through the tears in your eyes. “Joe, look at me. That was good, getting Richard out of there. The car is… is coming, okay? It is, and… when it’s here we can start working on an exit strategy.”

“I have an exit strategy. For me, and for Roxie,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse from yelling, and then the phone rings again. Joe picks it up, and he’s moving from the hall to the table and back again, the end of the line approaching steadily.

“I’m gonna send someone out to check the car. I want the keys in the ignition, I want the engine running, and I want all those ESU guys gone, y’hear me? I want a clear path!” The phone is tossed away, connection gone, and then Joe’s in front of you again, bending forward, grinning. “About time to make yourself useful.”

“Joe,” Liv murmurs, trying to reach out to him, but the gun is quickly pointing at her.

“Shut up, boss lady!” he snaps. “The both of you are gonna put the vest on Roxie, and then she’s gonna go out there and check the car.”

What else can you do but comply? Joe’s release on your restraints has you stumbling forward, but when Liv goes to get you she’s pushed away by the firearm. You slowly rise to your feet, and there’s blood falling steadily from your nose as you stumble forward.

There’s no affirmation. Joe can only hiss out a curse, and then he’s stumbling away towards the back of the house.

The front of the house feels cold. By the time you make it to Roxie it feels like an eternity, and you and Liv have to get to work buckling her up. You’re so disoriented, the world spinning, that when you realize Liv is talking she’s already halfway there.

“Roxie,” she murmurs. “You can save yourself. You realize that? Right now. your brother is out there, and you don’t have to die. All you have to do is drop to your knees and put your hands up.”

Your hands are finally free. It feels good being able to roll your wrists, but you can barely focus as you realize you’re looking up into Roxie’s eyes. Your brain stumbles through its recollection, and when you do manage to speak it’s small. Soft. So Joe can’t hear.

“Save yourself, and your brother, Roxie, okay?” you whisper. “Get out of here. For him, you understand.”

“Just – just shut up,” she snaps, and Liv buckles her in.

It’s torture watching her leave. Joe’s back now, and the phone is at his hear, while Liv’s at the window, watching. But the light from outside makes your head spin. All you can do is stumble back to a chair, count to ten, and try not to cry.

You wish you had a hand on your back right now. Someone rubbing small circles into your skin. You can hear his voice, Rafael’s, in your ear, low hums as the two of you relax on the couch…

No.

You blink a few times. You can hear Roxie’s voice over the phone. Her sharp gasp, the long pause. You hear Rafael, then, too, urging you onto your feet, urging your mind to come together for just a bit longer…

No. He’s not – he’s not there. He’s outside. He’s not on the phone, he’s not on a couch, he’s outside and waiting and you’re stuck in here. It makes you want to scream, and your fingers lift to curl in your hair.

And then Carisi’s voice filters in over the phone.

“Hey, hold up, she’s surrendering. We got her!”

Something in Joe seems to snap at that moment. His eyes are wild, the assault rifle draped over his body, and when he lifts to gun to direct it between you and Liv.

“We’re almost there,” Liv tries to tell him. But you know she’s telling you, too. You try to nod, but there’s a flash of light as you struggle to stay conscious.

We’re almost there, Rafael whispers in your head, his little smirk so clear.

Okay, Rafa. Okay.

“It’s your terms,” Liv’s saying. “You tell Tucker how to do this… we’re so close to getting out of here.” Even as your head hangs you can’t help your smile. That’s your lieutenant. That’s Olivia fucking Benson. Allying herself. Protecting you. Your everything aches and she knows it and she’s still there.

The phone rings. Tucker’s voice filters over all of you.

“Now I’m gonna need something. The kids, Joe, okay?”

But Joe’s ready. Joe’s fired up, thanks to Liv. She’s there with him, she almost smiles at him, as he ends the negotiations. He’s ready to get out of there, he’s ready to live.

She’s got him, you think. She’s got him, right where she wants him.

“Joe, we kept our side,” Tucker says. “We’ll need at least one kid.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “You get the boy. When I get into the car you get the boy.” And then his smile goes rancid, evil, cruel.

“But I’m keeping my girls.”

Rafael’s leg can’t stop bouncing. He’s made his way back inside the command center, and the hustle and bustle never stops. People are in, people are out, and all he can think about is you. All he can hear is your voice is his ear, all he can focus on is getting you out safe.

Which sucks, because he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home. He should be home but he hasn’t been able to move since he made it to this chair.

His fingers go to your tie. It’s around his neck, but it’s yours. One you bought for him, the burgundy something you said brought out his eyes. You’d handed it over with a wink, at the end of a day that’d had you both in the office for longer than you strictly should’ve been.

Just for you, you’d said. It was basically calling your name.

God, what’d he give to hear you calling his name.

He doesn’t have an earpiece in his ear. So he doesn’t know why the cops all around him suddenly tense up, he doesn’t know why they file out of the command center and start loading their guns. What he does know is when Dodds peeks in, Carisi’s eyes visible behind him through the doorway.

“Barba,” the sergeant barks out. “They’re coming out. Stay down and stay behind, Joe is coming out –”

Rafael’s throat closes up. “With who?” he asks, but Dodds is already gone. Carisi peeks in.

“All of them, Rafael,” he says. “Liv, the kids, and –”

Rafael doesn’t need to hear your name. He’s already up. He’s led by Carisi to a vest, he’s led by Carisi to a spot behind the line of armed officers, and all he can do is watch as everyone watches the doors.

“They’re coming out by the garden level!” someone yells, and guns are aiming before Rafael can think.

He sees you first. It’s not hard to miss you. Your hair is whipping around your head a little from the wind, and there’s...

“That’s blood,” he whispers to himself. “God, that’s blood.” It’s dripping down your face, or it was – from your nose, all over your face and mouth.

“Barba,” Carisi whispers back, and that’s when he sees the gun.

No! his brain screams. His body is motionless. The gun is against your head, and you’re walking, no, stumbling forward ahead of him.

He sees your lips moving. You’re talking to Joe – Joe, surrounded by you, and Liv, and the kids. Your hands are up.

Joe starts yelling. “Farther back! Get farther back!”

“Get back,” Carisi says, and he shouts it a little louder for the group. Everyone starts backing up. Everyone does, and Rafael watches as the four of you creep towards the car. Liv is talking now. She’s right in his ear.

And then the kids get let go. He seems a small smile play across your face, as Joe looks back at Liv.

“He’s letting both kids go!” Dodds shouts. Someone rushes up to meet them, carries them away, and Rafael watches as Joe is flanked by you, by Liv. The kids are rushed away, and the breath Rafael can take after that is minimal. It’s minimal and you’ve still got a gun to your head.

There’s talking. There’s more talking. The car is only inches away.

And then your elbow swings.

“Joe,” you whisper. “Keep the gun to my head.”

You feel the pressure against the back of your head. Right against the bruise from this morning. “Good, Joe. We’ll keep pushing forward, okay. I’m gonna keep my hands up, and you…”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth closes tightly. The inching forward is tedious, but you creep with every step. And then Liv starts talking.

“You don’t need the kids, Joe,” Liv whispers. “You don’t need them. Let them go, all right? It’s just about you and us, no one else.”

And then they’re gone. The kids. They dart away, and your eyes close tightly, the smile on your face momentary. One step closer. You can almost hear Rafael still. Almost there.

You feel Liv’s foot tap against yours as the group of you come to a halt. And when your eyes meet hers you can’t help what happens next.

There’s a mutual understanding. One that the two of you come to, in that moment, surrounding Joe, protecting him. His voice is still in your ear, but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. In that moment, it’s just you and Liv, and you see her eyes flick to Joe’s head before glancing down to your elbow.

“Get in,” Joe snaps, and you nod.

You know what she’s asking of you. You what she’s begging for. Safety for the kids, for the parents, for the nightmare to end.

“I will, Joe. I’m just gonna tell Tucker the plan.”

And you know that while she thinks of Noah one last time, steeling up her courage as the two of you shuffle towards the car, that you think of Rafael Barba.

“Get in!” he shouts, and you swallow tight.

Three fingertips against your hand give one tap.

“I’m just gonna tell –“

Two fingertips.

“Get in the damn car, you bitch!”

One finger, one more second.

His gun lifts from your head.

One smile staring up at you from his contact photo, one kiss that he gives with his hand tangled into the hairs on the back of your neck –

Go.

You throw an elbow, and Liv throws herself to the side while you drop. You hear the command, the gunshot, and everything stops as it rings in the air.

And then Joe’s body crumples. There’s a thud as it hits the ground. and you wait for the other shoe to drop. Liv’s own body falling, a new radiating pain in your side. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. It’s over.

“He’s got a gun,” you murmur, but it’s so quiet it’s just to yourself. You can’t speak up louder, the sound of the shot that killed him ricocheting in your head, rattling around until your eyes cross and you can’t think.

The yelling of the officers around you can’t stir you from your daze. Nothing seems like it can. You’re holding your hands over your ears to try and quiet what you can, your eyes wide as you stare at Joe’s dead body. And then it hits you, all at once. Like a fucking tidal wave.

It’s done. You’re free. And as you turn towards the crowds around you, shaky legs and a migraine making you stumble, one name is on your lips.

“Rafael?”

It starts out small. Low. Quiet. You can hear Liv next to you, calling out for Noah and people start crowding before you can think.

“Rafael?”

Another time. Louder, fiercer. You can’t see him, but you need to. You know he’s here, he has to be. Your throat almost can’t push the sound out, but it goes, fierce and brave.

“Rafael!”

And then you see him. There. You see him, you see the bright purple tie, the way he’s turning any way he can to find out where your voice is coming from. It’s almost comical, and you start laughing, a lot hysterical at the same time tears start coming down your cheeks.

Laugh. Cry. Same thing. It doesn’t fucking matter. The next thing you know you’re pushing towards him, and it takes one more turn for him to see you, to start moving through the crowd. You throw your arms around him as he does the same to you, and everything inside of you seems to fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento, estoy aqui.” But his apologies mean nothing more than just hearing the sound of his voice, pressing your lips to his mouth and neck and shoulder as you press as close as you can, hug as tight as you can, hide as much as you fucking can.

“I – I was so sc-scared,” you sob out, and that’s when your legs give out. Rafael has to try and catch you, and almost can’t, the way you go dead weight on him. But there’s nothing left to give, no more strength, and in the end he holds you as the medics rush you.

Liv’s voice fades in behind you. “I’m fine, go to her, I’m fine. Where’s Noah?” Tucker’s voice is trying to assure her that they’re getting him, that he’s coming, but then everything fades out again.

You’re so tired. God, you’re so fucking tired.

Your head hurts so bad.

Shit.

“Rafa,” you whimper out, and his shushes are gentle, one of his hand lifting to shakily push through your hair. There are other bodies around the both of you, and you try not to think about how when his hand pulls away you can see your own blood on it. Blood. Like your nose.

“Cariño,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“Got… hit. In the head,” you whisper, and that’s when everything goes black.

You wake up in the hospital. You wake up, and things are still a little fuzzy, but you wake up at all, and that’s a minor miracle. You could’ve slept for another week, you think, if the way your head is pounding tells you anything.

“Fuck,” you hiss immediately, when everything hits you all at once. The lights, the beeping, the feeling of your body, somehow weightless and heavy as hell at the same time.

��They wouldn’t let me in.”

You have to blink. The lights are still too bright, and the voice almost doesn’t sound like it’s coming from in the room. After all, Rafael’s voice was in your head throughout the last few hours of that damn mess.

Right. The townhouse.

You blink again. Rafael is sitting next to you. His eyes are on you, and he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You try not to think about the way his sleeves are rolled up, the way he looks like he hasn’t slept. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and you want to reach out and touch it – he’s never not clean-shaven.

“What’d you say?” you murmur. Your mouth feels like cotton.

“They took you away,” he whispers, and reaches out to grab your hand. “They took you away, out there, and… they didn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

Everything slowly comes back in.

“You’re here now,” you whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I wasn’t. Not the whole time you were... I wasn’t.”

“You were... you. You were.”

You struggle to sit up, but there’s oxygen in your nose and you can’t pull at it. You’re so weak, and everything, everything hurts. But. But the kids, Liv –

“They’re okay.” That’s when you realize that you were talking out loud, and Rafael reaches up to brush your hair back. Leans forward to kiss your forehead. “They’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Rafael.”

“The squad didn’t know. No one knew. So no one could vouch… no one knew, when your name was on there, too, with Liv, with... fuck, William Lewis...”

You’re blinking. You’re blinking a lot. Something is prickling at the corners of your eyes, and you let the tears fall. “Rafael. I’m here. I’m…”

He leans up to kiss your forehead again, and you realize he’s crying, too. You can feel something wet against your skin, and he’s holding you so close.

“You almost weren’t, and. They know now,” he whispers. “I told them. If anything ever happens, I – I need to be in here first.”

You don’t have time to process, and frankly, you don’t want to. Because Rafael is here, in your room, holding you gently, and you hear his voice in your ear just like you did earlier. You hear his little murmured prayers against your head, thanks to God, in Spanish right at your collarbone.

You didn’t tell anyone because it was safer. You didn’t tell anyone because it was easier. You didn’t tell anyone, and it still ended with you in a hospital bed.

He told them. And you can’t help but… but feel grateful.

No more uncertainty. No more secrets. No more, if it means that he gets there just a little bit earlier. If it means you know that he’ll be there.

“If anything ever happens to you,” you mutter back, “you best believe I’m beating down the doors. Family or not.”

It’s slurred, your words. Things are getting a little fuzzy, again. You think it’s something about the medicine that’s dripping into your arm. It doesn’t matter. Rafael’s holding you so tight.

“Of that I have no doubt, cariño. Now get some rest for me.”

tag list - @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @crazyshannonigans // @goldenxreid // @teamhappyme // @chasingeverybreakingwave

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #female!reader #olivia benson #law and order: svu #my fic #tw blood #tw guns #tw rape #tw rape mention #canon-typical violence #hostage situation

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Christmas Dinner ~ Qian Kun

You crept quietly down the stairs, walking into the kitchen, Kun was already stood in front of the oven with an apron tied tightly around his waist, reading through the page of the cookbook.

At the time, you thought agreeing to cook Christmas dinner at the dorm would be the simplest job in the world, but with so many mouths to feed and picky eaters at the table, it was beginning to feel like anything but an easy job.

Kun smiled gently as he turned back and saw you walk into the room, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m glad you’re finally up, there’s so many timings that I’m struggling to figure out.”

“You should have woken me rather than letting me sleep in,” you challenged, taking the piece of paper from him, and reading through it. “Let’s just get the simple stuff done first, and then we can worry as we go, and try not to panic.”

He nodded, passing you the other apron that hung over the oven door, tying it loosely around your waist before pressing a kiss of your neck. You smiled softly, tying up your hair, looking around at what he’d done so far.

“Right, where do you need me?” You asked, offering out your hands for him to place a peeler in one, and a knife in the other.

Whilst Kun began to work on getting the turkey in the oven, and the seasoning perfect, you began to prepare the vegetables, so they had plenty of time to cook.

As the two of you started to crack on with cooking, you could hear the beginnings of heavy footsteps above you as one by one the boys began to wake up. You couldn’t help but chuckle hearing their arguments for the bathroom and quiet as the two of you got on with your jobs.

“I’m beginning to think it wasn’t the worst idea staying out of the chaos and offering to cook instead,” you whispered across to Kun.

He was far too focussed making sure he weighed everything out perfectly, but his head still nodded in response to you. Once you were done with the vegetables, you made your way over to him, resting your hand against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t have to be spot on,” you assured him, squeezing lightly against his skin, “the boys aren’t expecting some sort of fine dining experience, they’ll be pleased just to eat dinner. Don’t get yourself too stressed about it all."

"I just want to do it right,” he frowned, placing his spoon down and turning to face you, “my parents always made the best dinners, so I want to make sure that this one is perfect too.”

You smiled softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Your hands cupped against his cheek, encouraging him to take a few deep breaths. Sure, you felt the pressure too, but you knew that as long as the two of you were calm, nothing could go wrong.

“I’m here, don’t stress.”

“I know, thank you.”

Once he’d started to calm down a little, time soon sped up, and more and more was getting done. By now, the boys were outside of the kitchen in the living room, shouting through compliment after compliment as the smells of the food began to fill the dorm.

Most of the food was in the oven, and all of the prep was done, ten minutes ahead of the schedule you’d come up with. “I don’t know how you stay so relaxed in situations like this, but I couldn’t do this without you,” Kun whispered.

You shuffled a little closer towards him as you leant against the counter, feeling his hand press against the small of your back.

“We’ve done all of this before, it’s only because it’s Christmas it’s stressing you out more, but there’s really no need,” you smiled in response to him.

He nodded, perhaps you were right, the stress of Christmas had really gotten to him. “I just didn’t want to let anyone down, could you imagine how embarrassing it would be if someone didn’t like the food?”

“I’m sure they’ll love it. They’re boys, they’ll eat anything.”

He chuckled, interrupted by the sound of the oven beeping, glancing back to take a look. You watched on as he proudly smiled, grabbing an oven glove before pulling out the baking tray that the turkey was sat on. It was a beautiful golden colour, crisp to perfection, and best of all, it smelt absolutely incredible.

“What’s that smell?” You head Lucas shout from the living room, “because it smells like I am in some sort of food heaven right now, can you guys hurry up a bit please?”

“We’ll be sorted soon, don’t worry,” you called back through.

Seeing how well he’d done with the turkey was the confidence boost you knew that Kun needed as he everything began to come together. His mood picked up immediately, humming along to a few songs as he worked, pressing a kiss to the side of your head every time he passed you.

The two of you always worked so well together, which was why the boys had trusted you to make Christmas dinner for them this year. The atmosphere in the kitchen was a lot less stressful than the one that was blowing up outside in the living room.

“They’re going to end up speaking to each other soon,” you chuckled as you watched a few of the boys fight over one of the board games, “how do you deal with this constantly?”

“You get used to it; I’d probably be the same if I wasn’t in here with you.”

Your head shook, opening up the kitchen door properly to head out and started setting the table. All of them stopped what they were doing as they heard you move, following you to the table.

“Is it done?” Winwin questioned, quickly taking his seat at the top of the table. “Please tell me that you’re starting to bring the food?”

“Yes, I’m starting to bring the food, don’t worry. Just sit, and don’t start any more arguments.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as all of the boys quickly took their seats, desperate to sit down to eat. If it weren’t for the smells of the food teasing them, most of them would have probably still been in bed, only none of them could ever turn down a delicious meal.

You stood back as Kun carried the turkey into the room, placing it right in the middle of the table. Coos came from all of the boys as they watched, astounded by what they saw.

“Nobody touch it until everything is here,” he warned, taking the carving knife back into the kitchen so none of them could get a hold of it.

Once everything was on the table, you helped each other untie your aprons, putting them back against the oven door, sighing in relief that finally everything was done.

Kun’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, resting his head lightly on top of yours. “I’m so glad that’s all sorted, and we didn’t even argue once. I’d say that’s a bit of a result.”

“Did you think we’d argue?” You asked him.

“Well, you always see it on the movies, nothing ever goes perfectly,” he chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose, “so, I thought maybe something would end up going wrong, but it didn’t.”

Your head nodded in agreement, you’d surprised yourself with how seamless everything had gone, perhaps it did feel a little bit too good to be true.

“You say that now, but why do I have a funny feeling that something will probably go wrong with all of them lot out there,” you joked, looking out at them all.

“I’ll keep them all in check, don’t you worry about that.”

A small part of your heart was slightly gutted that dinner was over, you loved the time it gave you with Kun, and the new experiences that you shared. “I think it’s a little too late for that,” you laughed as the two of you walked out to the table.

“What did I say to you guys about not touching anything?”

They all shrugged innocently, pointing to each other to try and shift the blame. You couldn’t help but smile as you sat down, watching as Kun scolded them all.

“We couldn’t help it, it all just smelt delicious,” Ten teased, desperately trying to sweeten him back up, “if anything we’re complimenting your cooking.”

“Don’t try and justify yourselves to me,” he sighed, grabbing the carving knife back from the kitchen, beginning to serve the meal.

Once everyone had full plates, Kun sat himself down beside you, nudging you gently as you took a first mouthful of your dinner.

“So, how did we do?” He questioned, watching as your eyes lit up, humming at the stunning tastes that went off in your mouth.

“I’d say we did a pretty good job, that turkey is incredible,” you smiled, taking another bite.

“Maybe we do make quite a good team after all.”

---

Masterlist

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simons-calling-the-127-squad · 3 years

Text

A Sight for Sore Eyes-Lucas

Credit to the original owners of the images.

Warning: Bullying and Violence

Soulmate Au: you are unable to the color of your soulmate's eyes until you meet them.

This story takes place in the junior year of high school.

You heard him sigh before answering, "Yeah, come grab it."

You went to his room and grabbed it from his hand, "Thanks bubby you're the best."

"Yeah, yeah I know. You need to find yours instead of always using mine though."

"I will. Eventually." You laughed.

You went back to your room and finished getting ready, after you got done you had to wait for all your brothers. Your parents didn't trust you walking to school alone. They also didn't trust your siblings or you to drive even though you all had your permit. You had three brothers. Two of them were older and twins and one that was younger. You didn't mind though all of you loved each other, even if you got on each other's nerves.

As your older brother, Oakland, finally walked out of the room you mumbled, "And they say women take longer than men to get ready."

Percy and your younger brother, Wolf, laughed right next to you.

"Hey, I don't wanna hear it. It takes a while to get this perfection ready," he said dramatically flipping his hair.

You rolled your eyes and started walking out of your house saying bye to your parents. Your brothers and yourself started walking to school. All of you made jokes with each other. You ended up seeing a bluebird and got distracted though.

"Guys, look at the bird," you said pointing at it, "That's a pretty blue."

"Blue? I see only brown," Oakland said.

"It's both brown and blue," Wolf and Percy spoke up.

"Well we can't see both colors because we haven't found our soulmates yet," you said sticking out your tongue.

Right after you said that a boy purposely bumped into you, "Watch it, nerd."

You felt your anger rise but you left him alone and just glared at him. Your brothers yelled at him to watch where he was going next time, he just ignored them though.

"It's fine," you said through clenched teeth.

"He needs to stop doing that. Someone needs to put him in his place," Percy said, clenching his fist.

"Perce it's okay, y'all taught me how to fight remember?" You said.

"You’re not gonna fight him unless he messes with any of us or if he throws the first punch though," Oakland said, getting a little irritated at both your brother and you.

"Let's just get in the school," Wolf spoke up.

"Agreed," The three of you said simultaneously.

You all went into the school, talking. Wolf spotted your crush, Lucas, and started teasing you about it. You told him to shut up and walked him to his class while Oakland went with his friends and Percy went with his soulmate, Alicia.

When you got to Wolf's class you hugged him, "Try to have a good day Wolfy."

"Don't call me that," he glared at you, " And I will. You try to too. Don't get into a fight please."

You laughed, "I won't try to."

You walked into your class and sat at the back. You pulled out your earbuds and started to listen to music and read, hoping no one would bother you. You didn't really feel like talking to anyone today, not even Y/B/F. You felt a presence sit next to you. You glanced at the shoes to see that it was, in fact, Y/B/F. You liked to just listen to music and read so you got good at sensing people and telling who it is by their shoes. You took out one of your earbuds and slowly put your bookmark in your book.

When you looked up you saw that Y/B/F was looking at you expectantly, "Yes?"

"I heard that Jaxon ran into you again." She raised her eyebrow expecting you to say something.

"Yeah, so?"

"You have to stop letting him do that stuff. Have your brothers take care of him, do something!" She practically shouted.

"Shhh, quit being so loud. Like Oakland said it's fine until he either messes with any of my brothers or throws the first punch."

"Then what are you gonna do? Take the beating. He's like ten times bigger than you."

"If it comes down to it you'll see. Now I'm gonna continue to read," you said, already putting your earbud back in and starting to read.

Eventually, everyone came into the classroom and you had to put your book up and your earbuds away. You sat there through the whole class taking notes and doing the work that was assigned. In no time you got done with the work and went back to reading. You could sense that something bad was going to happen that day but didn't know what or when. Finally, the bell had rang and you put everything up. You waited for Y/B/F and went to your next class with her.

---

The bell for lunch finally rang and you and Y/B/F were out of the classroom as fast as it had. Jaxon was in that class, he sat next to you and would never stop bothering you unless one of his friends, like Lucas, told him to stop. You could never stand Jaxon even when you were little. It got worse as the years went on though. You grabbed your lunch and went to the table that your brothers were sitting at, except, Wolf was missing. Y/B/F had come and sat down after you had.

"Where's Wolf?" You asked, concern evident in your voice. Both of your brothers shrugged. You looked around the room and noticed that Jaxon wasn't there either. Immediately you felt panic rise. You hurriedly stood up ignoring your brothers and Y/B/F asking what's wrong. You walked out being really quiet to see if you could hear anything. You didn't even realize that they had followed you out of the cafeteria. You walked down the hall and turned the corner to see Jaxon had Wolf by the collar of his shirt, pinned against the lockers.

You rushed forward saying, "What in the devil's balls are you doing Jaxon?!"

Wolf looked over surprised and then relieved to see you. Jaxon didn't even look your way. Instead, he shoved Wolf even more and said something low enough that you couldn't hear. He reeled back to punch Wolf. You rushed forward getting in between them and catching his fist, he had let Wolf out of his hold and stared at you furious that you had stopped him.

"I wouldn't have done that if I was you, nerd," he snapped.

"What are you gonna do hit me?" You asked, sarcastically, rolling your eyes. After you said that he pulled his hand out of your grip and went to hit you. You ducked, making him hit the lockers behind you. You grabbed him and pinned him against the lockers.

"You shouldn't have messed with my brother," you said through gritted teeth. You kneed him in the gut. He would've doubled over if it wasn't for your hold on him. You pulled your fist back and punched him in the jaw. People gasped around you. You let him fall to the ground after and backed up. He got up right after though. You stood in your fighting stance knowing what was gonna happen. He went to punch you again, you blocked it though. You kicked him in the side, he grunted in pain. You heard Wolf in the background yelling at you to stop. You got distracted momentarily because of it. It was perfect for him to land a punch on your jaw. You tasted blood, he had busted your lip. This made you even madder. You kicked him in the stomach, making him double over. That was what you wanted. You grabbed his head and kneed him in it.

It took him a second to recover until he tackled you on the ground, your head bouncing off the floor. This barely fazed you though, it happened every time your brothers sparred with you. You grabbed his head and slammed it on your own. You flipped both of you, now you were on top of him. You reeled back and hit him two more times, in the face before you got up. He rolled and spit some blood out.

"Never mess with my family again," you said, glaring at him, "Do you understand?"

He grunted out a yes. You had broken one of his ribs, you knew that because you heard and felt it snap. You walked over to Wolf satisfied with his answer. "Are you okay?" You asked, checking his face for any bruises or scratches.

"I'm fine, he didn't hurt me," he reassured you, "Mom is gonna kill you for getting in a fight."

You laughed, "As long as you're okay I don't care."

Y/B/F looked at you shocked, "Wh-How- I don't understand," she sputtered out.

"I have three brothers. We all spar sometimes and they teach me new fighting tactics." You shrugged acting like it was no big deal. "Now, I'm hungry, let's go eat."

The blood taste had thankfully gone away when you sat down to eat. The rest of the day went by smoothly and Jaxon had to go to the hospital. Everyone looked at you a bit differently after the fight. You weren't the quiet shy bookworm in the back of the class anymore, even though you still were, but instead, everyone just saw you as the only person that had taken down the big "bad" Jaxon.

---

The next few days nothing really interesting had happened. The principals nor any teachers had asked you about the fight at all. Apparently, Jaxon had told the nurse that he fell down some stairs. Jaxon had missed a few days because of the fight.

"Y/N, stop staring at Lucas," Y/B/F had said. You must have zoned out.

"I wasn't," you tried defending.

"Uh-huh," She said, obviously not believing you.

"Look I may have a crush on him but it's never gonna happen. He's a jock, I'm a bookworm. I also took down his friend." You explained to her.

"Okay."

The bell finally rang. Everyone left the classroom except for Lucas, Y/B/F, and you. Y/B/F came up behind you, after you grabbed your stuff, and pushed you into Lucas, "GET SOME" she had yelled.

She ran out of the classroom. Both you and Lucas blushed. You looked up, right as the awkwardness had settled, into his eyes. The eye contact was so awkward, not to mention you were still in his arms, but when you looked into his eyes you saw a color that you had never seen before. You saw the color brown for the very first time in your life and it was beautiful to you.

"Ummm," he had said.

"Oh, right," you said remembering that you were in his arms. You stood up and didn't say anything. Silence had fallen over you. Neither of you knew what to say. You were embarrassed and could feel the awkwardness in the silence. "I gotta go," you finally said, rushing out of the room.

You caught up to Y/B/F in the next class and smacked her arm. She just laughed. "Soooo?" She asked, dragging out the o part.

"So what?" You asked, irritated.

"So how'd it go?" She asked.

"Embarrassing and awkward," you replied.

"Are you guys soulmates?" She asked, trying to get straight to the point.

You sighed, "Yeah, yeah we are."

"That's great!" She practically yelled.

You shushed her. You grabbed your earbuds and your book. You couldn't believe that she had done that.

---

That night you had told your brothers about what had happened. They all laughed saying that she did you a favor, which she did but it was still how she did it that bothered you.

The next few days you had avoided Lucas and you thought he was doing the same to you. You both hadn't talked to each other or even looked in each other's direction. This went on for about a month. Today though Y/B/F missed school. You were pretty mad at her for it. You were walking down the hall with your earbuds in, music and books were the best to you. They transported you to a different place, in a way. You weren’t really paying attention until you bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, hurriedly. When you looked up you saw that it was Lucas. It looked like he tried talking to you, so you took out an earbud, “What?”

“I said don’t worry about it. At least it’s you bumping into me.” He laughed, you blushed. Even though you tried telling yourself that he wasn’t your soulmate, that maybe your eyes had made a mistake, you still couldn’t get over your crush on him.

“I thought you tried avoiding me,” you blurted out, right after you said that you put your hand over your mouth. He looked confused at first then laughed.

“I did at first,” you knew it, you felt your heart start breaking, “I didn’t want to make the second time talking so embarrassing and awkward like the first time.”

“Apparently, that won't stop it from being at least embarrassing,” at that both of you laughed.

“We gotta get to class. Wouldn’t want the bookworm to be late, do we?” You laughed at that.

“Shut up,” you laughed. He ended up walking you to class. You both talked the whole way there, of course you got some odd looks since he was popular and you weren’t. You found out some things that you didn’t know about him and he found out a few things about you too. One thing you found out was that he works out every morning and evening. That would explain why he was so good at sports. After class ended you met up with your brothers and Alicia. Surprisingly though Lucas was standing with them.

“What’s going on over here?” You asked, suspiciously, looking between Lucas and your brothers.

“Well, he is your soulmate and we’re your brothers,” Percy said, you gave him a confused look.

“Every older brother needs to meet their younger siblings soulmate,” Oakland finished, your eyes widened catching on.

“Please, don’t give him the brother talk,” you begged. Everyone laughed.

“They found me and wanted to get to know me. Since we are soulmates,” Lucas reassured, your heart fluttered at hearing him call you his soulmate, it was going to take a while to get used to.

---

The next day was Friday thankfully. No one knew that you and Lucas were soulmates except for his friend, WinWin, and obviously your brothers, Y/B/F, and Alicia. The only thing people knew was that you and him were becoming friends which was weird. Both of you would get rude comments from people about it until you glared at them. No one forgot the time when you beat Jaxon in the fight. After school Lucas went to your house and hung out. He always brightened up everyone's mood even if they had a bad day.

Lucas’ phone started ringing. He looked to see who was calling and picked it up after, “Hello? Okay. That sounds good. See you when you get back. I love you too mom. Bye.” He hung up at the end.

“What was that about?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“My mom just wanted to call and say that her and my dad would be out of town for a few weeks.” He informed you.

"Okay," you replied, his parents would go on business trips leaving him alone for weeks.

"Maybe I could stay here for a few days," he joked.

You chuckled a little. Even though your parents were strict you knew they liked him enough to let him stay for a day or two. "We can ask them if you want."

"I doubt they'd let me stay." He said, putting his arm around you.

You scoffed, "We may not be officially dating but they like you enough to let you stay. I have no doubt about that."

"Speaking about that, Y/N will you officially be mine?" He looked down at you smiling.

You looked up, "Really?"

"Really."

"Then yes!" You answered excitedly. He chuckled at the reaction that you gave. It was one of the first times that he saw you excited about something that wasn't in a book.

He continued to stare at you and you stared back. Slowly he started to lean down to kiss you. Both of your eyes closed as he was getting closer. Your lips brushed against together, then someone barged into your room making both of you jump apart.

"What do you want Wolf?" You asked, a bit irritated.

"To tell you both that dinner is ready," he said, he walked out of your room right after he said it. You rolled your eyes getting up with Lucas. You both walked into the dining room holding hands. You looked at each other and smiled.

"We're officially together," you announced with a big smile.

"About time," Oakland commented. You stuck out your tongue at him, while Lucas just chuckled.

---

The next day Lucas and you went on an actual date. You both had a blast. Your parents had let him stay the night and the next few. Lucas gave you his hoodie on Monday morning. When you walked into school everyone was shocked to see you in his hoodie and holding his hand. The second you walked into the school everyone stared so Lucas faced you towards him. He leaned down and slowly started kissing you in front of everyone. When you broke apart your face went bright red and you buried your face into him. He chuckled at your actions.

The next few years went the same way. People never messed with you again. Lucas and you were happy together and in the time that you graduated, high school both Oakland and Wolf found their soulmates. Percy and Alicia got married. Life was going well for everyone.

-😝

#Lucas wong #wong yukhei #wayv imagines #wayv x reader #nct #nct imagines #wayv #lucas wayv imagines #lucas wayv #nct lucas imagines #nct lucas #lucas nct #wayv lucas

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

So i sent a similar ask to megan because i love peoples thoughts on their own fics and i love snippets soooooo👀 I’m curious what your top five moments in the c&c verse are (which have already happened) and top 5 moments you’re looking forward too?!☺️

Ahhh, thank you! This was such a fun one, haha. It got looooong, so I put it behind a cut! [edit: sorry, the cut doesn’t seem to be working on desktop, but it is on phone? tumblr’s being tumblr! Hopefully it fixes soon?].

Top Five Moments in C&C

1. Annie argues with Beth about the security system in I Could Be Your Welcome.

This was actually one of the first moments I wrote in the C&C ‘verse. I can’t remember the exact context around me writing it, but I remember being interested in Beth’s lack of self-preservation / tendency to ignore danger, and had been thinking a lot about what that would look like in an actual relationship with Rio. It sort of manifested in the thread of Rio buying this expensive security system throughout I Could Be Your Welcome and becomes a bit symbolic of the fact that Beth hasn’t really unpacked any of the realities at that point on what a relationship with a man like Rio means.

Beth is such a stubborn character at the best of times, haha, that I knew I wanted her to dig her heels in on it, and I wanted it to culminate in a fight, and I just loved the idea of Annie being the unlikely voice of reason, and how that reason fell out of how much she loves and worries about Beth.

Here’s my favourite part:

“Yeah, and you need to talk to him about that. But he’s not Dean,” Annie interrupts. “Dean lied for Dean. Dean lied to cover up all the ways he shit the bed, and he shit the bed on like, every level. Comforter, sheets, mattress protector, mattress. Bed frame. Floor underneath. I mean, was there a single inch of your marital bed that wasn’t brown by the end of it all?”

Beth gives Annie a look at that, and Annie laughs to herself, waving soapy arms out and letting the suds drift to the floor.

“With Rio, I think he was - -” and her voice cracks then, her bottom lip wobbling, and she looks briefly away, trying to pull herself together. It takes her a minute to collect herself, to figure out what it is that she wants to say, and when she does, her voice is somehow both raw and firm.

“You’re asking me to be mad that he’s trying to keep you safe, and that’s never going to be something that makes me mad.”

It takes Annie a moment to meet her gaze again, and when she does, her jaw is fixed, even as her lip still wobbles, a tear – blackened with mascara – having stolen down her cheek, catching at the curve of her nose, and - -

And just - -

Dammit.

2. Rio realising why Jane’s upset in Two Hands.

One of the things I find most fun in writing the early days of the C&C ‘verse, is that Beth and Rio flat out do not communicate still, hahaha, and they really just threw themselves into this family without fully knowing what that meant.

Two Hands was very much about that, and in particular about the fact that Rio, in the early days of their relationship, treated Beth’s kids ultimately as extensions of Beth. Two Hands for me marks this turning point in the timeline where he started to really think of each of them as their own people, and consciously commits to building individual relationships with each of them.

Also I love writing Jane, haha. Here’s my fave bit:

“It’s not always like this,” he says, and Jane looks up at him, and there are too many expressions that pass over her round little face – disbelief and childish frustration until it finally settles on somethin’ else, somethin’ softer, less certain, somethin’ he ain’t seen on her face, at least not somethin’ he’s seen directed at him.

“You didn’t say bye,” she says finally, her voice small, and Rio exhales, annoyed.

“I did, darlin’,” because he did. Shit, got to fight about it with Elizabeth and leave Marcus red faced and weepy, made sure of that, but then - -

He looks at Jane and any self-righteousness dies on his tongue.

“Not to you though, huh?” he says softly, and Jane shuffles back into his arm, presses her forehead into his chest, out of sight, the nozzle of the sippy cup sucked into her mouth like a bottle, keeps herself looking away from him, and Rio exhales. He looks down at his bruised hands, then at her feet, where the booties of her onesie hang limply down the side of the couch, her feet lost somewhere in the legs of the thing, the hood of it hangin’ so far down her face it almost covers her eyes, and he reaches up to tug it back, just enough he can see her.

“’m sorry. Think maybe I’m still gettin’ used to this,” he says, because he hadn’t said goodbye to any of Elizabeth’s kids. Had trusted her to do it for him, had treated them like they were just a part of her, but - -

They ain’t.

They’re - -

Well.

Fuck.

Jane looks up at him, her eyes a little glassy and just - - he ain’t sure what that is, the feelin’ in his gut, hollowing itself out. “Can you be the first one I say hey to instead?”

She makes a show of turnin’ it over, her squirming against his chest and drinkin’ that goddamn awful drink he’s made her, but then she nods, and Rio tugs on one of her rabbit ears.

“Hey, Jane,” he says quietly. “You been good for your mama while I been gone?”

And she grins a little at that, shakes her head into his chest again, giggling before she can stop herself, and Rio smiles too, but rolls his eyes.

3. Rio’s non-proposal in Stick to the Rivers

I’m weirdly into the thought of Dean getting married a million times after he and Beth finally divorce. I think Dean’s just affable and charming and goofy enough to trick women into thinking he’s a good guy, and I kind of love the idea that it results in this string of short-term disaster relationships that parallel to the longterm stability and true partnership Beth finds with Rio in C&C.

It’s something I’m definitely going to be exploring in future chapters, but it was really fun to start to in Stick to the Rivers, where Dean tells the kids he’s engaged and Beth and Rio are left to deal with the fallout. I also love the idea of Beth and Rio floating concepts with each other as jokes, even when they mean them seriously, haha, which is how this moment happened:

“Thought you ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” Beth says, imitating his voice, and Rio exhales sharply, squinting down at her in that irritated way that he does whenever she imitates him.

“I ain’t,” he says, gritting his teeth, and Beth arches an eyebrow up at him. “But that dumbass ex o’ yours - - ”

“Is getting married,” Beth replies, refocusing her gaze on the ceiling, and at least that’s enough to make Rio be quiet. It was a dirty trick, and she thinks they both know it, but still - - she just didn’t have it in her for Rio to tell her what she already knew, to have to justify (again) her inaction when it came to Dean.

Rio sighs above her, and she can feel him trying to catch her gaze, but she keeps it fixed steadily on the ceiling, briefly wishing for cracks or cobwebs or anything beyond the pristine surface there to distract herself, only something must distract her, because she doesn’t realise Rio’s undressed or even moved at all until he’s nudging her forwards and slipping into the bath behind her. He pulls her gently back against his chest.

“You’re surprised,” she tells him softly, letting her head loll back onto Rio’s shoulder, her eyes slip shut, feeling his hands stroke down her arms, one coming back up to cup her breast.

“Surprised he managed to trick another woman into gettin’ saddled with his ass, sure,” he replies easily, and Beth huffs out a laugh, beyond the point of being offended by anything Rio says about her and Dean’s marriage.

“You wanna beat him down the aisle?”

And just - - what?

Beth’s eyes snap back open, and she spins a little in the water to look at him, and it’s unfair, the mirth in his eyes, but also the - - something. She can’t quite read it, god, still can’t quite ever know him fluently, so she just squints at him.

4. The whole of Louder Now, Help Me Out

We’re extremely lucky in this fandom to have so many writers who are genuinely SO funny (including you!!), and I am not one of them, hahaha. I always feel like I tend to be a bit clunky when I try to write jokes, but occasionally I think I pull it off, and the installment where Marcus, Jane and Emma ask Beth about sex is one I’m pretty proud of. It still makes me grin when I read it, haha.

“Miss Elizabeth, do you and my daddy have sex?”

Somewhere inside, Beth can hear Kenny and Danny playing video games, can hear lunch gently simmering in the crockpot, can hear the faintest whir of the washing machine working through its cycle. Which is nice, she thinks blankly, her smile not shifting as she tries to process what Marcus has just said to her. She can’t quite look at Ruby, who even out of the corner of her eye she can see has her mouth hanging open, and she definitely can’t look at Annie, even if she does see her drop heavily back down into her chair (doesn’t even have to know for sure to know that she’s grinning).

Beth clears her throat, softening her gaze.

“Who told you that?” she asks, and beside him, Jane shrugs, a suspicious look on her face.

“Lucas Bircher. He said he saw his daddy naked and he put his penis inside his mommy’s butt and then his daddy told him that that was sex and it was how they made babies.”

“Not if it’s in her butt,” Ruby says quietly, taking a sip of her coffee when Beth spins around to glare at her. She drops her mouth open, planning to tell the kids what, she’s not sure, when Jane continues:

“But then we asked Kenny, and Kenny said growed-ups have sex because it’s fun and that you and Mr Rio do it all the time.”

5. Beth finds Rio with Marcus comes home after a bad job in Friar’s Lantern.

Angst though is something I think I write well, haha, and particularly crime-y angst. Friar’s Lantern is a story I was really excited to write, particularly in exploring the dynamic between Beth and Marcus, and the history of Rio and Laura. I liked the idea that Rio and Laura care about each other deeply, but that she was never in crime, and that she hit a breaking point with it in a way that made her really demand that Rio hide a part of himself from her.

In a lot of ways, Friar’s Lantern was about Beth doing the opposite, and demanding that he share himself instead. I wanted to parallel the moment a bit with the dubby too – with parenthood being central to both Beth and Rio’s vulnerabilities and something that has often lead to shifts in their dynamic – so Marcus’ teddy bear formed a really fun device in that sense. Also the image of a bloodied and bruised Rio bringing his son his stuffed animal was just the right sort of angst for me that day, hahaha.

His eyebrow split open, blood trickling from the skin there, down his temple. It looks like he’s swiped it back, once, twice, maybe three times, the blood smeared and dried, caking in his hair. There’s a deep bruise at his jaw, a deep, wide cut at his lip, like he was punched by somebody wearing a ring, and Beth’s gaze travels down him, only to have to swallow a gasp at the blood soaking through his shirt.

He watches her watch him, then says:

“Not all of its mine,” like it’s supposed to make her feel any better about it, and she hates that it does, because god, it’s selfish. She doesn’t want any of it to be his. It can all be the other guy’s. She wants it to be. She can’t summon the words to say anything – barely knows what to, and Rio suddenly jerks his head away from her, looking back at Marcus, and Beth exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding to have his wounds out of sight again, however briefly.

“I won’t be long,” he says, eyes still on Marcus. “Just droppin’ Otis off, yeah?”

And - - what? Beth blinks, steps closer before she can help herself.

“Where are you going?” she asks, and Rio doesn’t pull his eyes away from Marcus, and Beth just - - stops. A foot or so away from him, and here she can see the blood’s thickest at the arm of his shirt, darkening the navy fabric, and it still looks wet, like maybe it’s still bleeding.

“Got a hotel.”

Beth tears her gaze away from his arm at that, looks up at him, watches him watch Marcus, and god, his jaw is already swelling.

“Why?”

And that’s enough to make him look back at her. Beth wets her lips, feels herself tremble, steps forward again, and when she touches his arm he flinches back like he’s been burned.

Top Five Moments I’m Looking Forward to in C&C

1. Finally writing the housewarming in See You in the Light. There will be drama! Beth will try to run away! Rio might break something! (And we all know how that usually ends, hahaha).

2. Beth and Rio getting married. I never, ever thought I’d write them getting married in any ‘verse, but once I realised the plot for it, it’s been stuck in my head. I have a pretty strong outline for the fic overall, so it’s definitely coming!

3. Another thing I never thought I’d write in this particular fandom was a pregnancy scare fic. I got a lot of C&C prompts for it though, and it’s actually teased out a pretty angsty installment in my head where they do have a scare and it makes them actually have to talk about what that looks like. In it, Beth confirms she doesn’t want anymore children, and Rio reveals that he would’ve liked one with Beth, but that he’d figured that it wasn’t on the cards. It ends up being a pretty bittersweet story where they’re both happy with what they have, but wonder what could’ve been, and what a child who was both of theirs might’ve been like.

4. On a much lighter note, I’ve had a ‘five things’ fic for ages which is actually just a time-jump fic with Beth and Rio teaching each of the five kids to drive, haha. It’s ridiculous, but hopefully pretty fun.

5. And there are a lot more too, but to bring this full circle, haha, there is an installment coming where Rio’s away for business, and, um. The security system is actually used. Think Panic Room vibes.

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

#the center and circumference #this was extremely fun #omg now i want to write c&c fics haha #welcome to my ama #fic memes #bethrio

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choruscas · 4 years

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suptober day 10: sweet rides

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

(THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS! ONCE IT’S OUT, I’LL EDIT THIS ONE AND LINK TO THE SECOND PART ONCE IT’S FINISHED!)

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

October 10th, 1890 - Lawrence, Kansas

Castiel drew his breath in as the cold air of fall hit his face. He looked around the town, seeing no signs of anybody out.

Most of them were probably in saloons or shops of some sort, drinking their sorrows away with cheap whiskey and tapping all their fortunes out with gambling.

He had lived in this town his whole life, but downtown he has only recently grown familiar with it.

Two months ago, his parents disappeared from him. And the rest of his family either moved away from Lawrence or were arrested for felony and murder charges. Castiel wasn’t like that. Being the youngest in the Novak family was hard, but he managed. He was the last of the Novak’s and he never made any promises to carry the family name, since he wasn’t interested in women of any kind.

So he wouldn’t. Once he drew his dying and final breath, the Novak’s would be no more.

However, in the meantime, he could make fault of his name. He wasn’t the proudest of being a Novak, but like previously said, he managed.

Walking through the dirt roads, marked with horses hooves and wagon’s wheels after years of use, Castiel found himself at the Roadhouse, like he did every Friday night.

He enjoyed the company there, and the beer was cheap but it was decent. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as his mom had drank her heart out all his life, but alcohol was the norm, so he occasionally had a beer or two.

He went inside, pushing the doors forward to be greeted by Ellen Harvelle, the Roadhouse’s proud owner. She was serving a man, who Castiel had never seen before, with big ears and a long nose.

“Hello Ellen. Is Jo working tonight?” he smiled at her while approaching the counter. Jo Harvelle was younger and was also Ellen’s only daughter.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “She’s got studyin’ so she’s workin’ on that upstairs.”

Castiel nodded and looked around the room, there were the usuals that were normally around, like Bobby Singer with his friend Rufus Turner, Meg Masters (a devil in disguise, ask anybody) and...

Dean Winchester.

Town’s heartthrob. And Castiel would never admittedly say this, but also the only man Castiel had currently sought out for.

About a month ago, Dean’s father had died and so him and his brother moved all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Lawrence. He became a regular and were familiar with some of the townspeople, since he had lived there until he was four. His mother had died in the paper’s fire at their house, and so they moved across the country. Since the town was celebrating its thirty-sixth anniversary soon, it meant that the town was still young, and so was Dean. John Winchester — thy boys’ father, was a state-famous cowboy, which gave Dean and his brother Sam a good name.

However, Castiel’s has barely usurped a full-on conversation with the man. Castiel was fairly confident, but pretty boys like Dean made his throat close up. Normally their conversations were around five minutes long, until some girl comes and ushers him away.

Although Castiel has never heard that Dean has gotten lucky with any of the women in the town. Maybe he kept it a secret, or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex. With a body like his, Castiel was surprised he didn’t. He could do so very easily, with anybody in the town who was willing.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called out, waving a large arm up in the sky. Next to him was who he thinks was his younger brother, with shaggy hair and a lanky body, Sam Winchester.

Assuming Dean’s gesture was meant to usher him over, Castiel got up from his stool and walked over, taking off his black cowboy hat and placing it on the pool table once he got to his destination. Dean tipped his Stetson in greeting and flashed a toothy smile to Castiel, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“You here for a beer, angel?” Dean asked.

That was new.

“Uhm, yes. Like I normally am.” Castiel replied solemnly, a little bit skeptical since Dean was being extra flashy today.

Perhaps it was because Sam was around.

“Well,” he started. “I’d like ya to meet Sammy, my lil’ brother. Sammy, Castiel. Castiel, Sammy.”

Castiel nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The younger brother stuck his arm out, signaling a handshake. It was firm, despite his young age. “You too.”

Dean gave his brother a grin and a wink and Sam had almost immediately left to go to the counter, instantly striking up a conversation with Ellen.

Odd.

“So, have you heard about Lucifer?” The question just popped up out of the blue. Dean was leaning on his cue pole, his hands over the top and his chin resting on his knuckles.

Castiel quirked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The murderer, guy got his face on the wanted posters ‘bout two months ago. People are sayin’ he murdered two people and some animals or somethin’. I don’t gossip like some people do here but it’s somethin’ I’ve heard goin’ ‘round.”

He licked his lips. He hasn’t seen any wanted posters of any kind, so either he was blind or oblivious to his surroundings. Hopefully the latter.

“I haven’t. Is his real name Lucifer?” Castiel asked, now engaged in the conversation, curious.

“Naw, Lucas or somethin’. Lucas... Shurley, I’m pretty sure.” He bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

Fuck.

“Lucas Shurley? I...” Castiel’s mouth went dry and the world suddenly got dizzy. “I need to sit down— o-or leave... I—“

Dean put down his cue stick, and it clattered to the ground. He gracefully swept over to where Castiel started leaning over the pool table. He put his hands on his back and laced his fingers with his to support him up.

“Cas?” His voice was soft, like of those of a kitten. “Hey... hey, man. Are you alright?”

“I have to go home—“ Castiel started, his stomach feeling like thousands of volcanic ruptures.

“I’ll take ya, man. How far do you live?”

Castiel looked up to face Dean. “About— about two miles up north. You... I can walk.”

“Walk? No. Where’s your horse?”

“Don’t have one anymore. Horse disappeared along with my parents.” Castiel said like it was nothing.

In all honesty, he didn’t believe it was nothing. He just didn’t want to worry Dean.

It was everything. Chuck and Naomi Novak were his favorite people in the world. Sure, the both of them smoked their lungs dry but without them, Castiel would be a goner. They’ve saved him, fixed him, in more ways and times than he could count.

“I’ll take ya, Baby can fit two.”

“Baby?”

“My black mare. God, she’s a beaut. Love o’ my life.” Dean smiled with pride.

Castiel nodded. That’s how Lincoln was to Castiel and his family. He was a very obedient crime colored horse, and he was very fond of him. However, after his parents disappearance, Lincoln had gone with them. Over and over Castiel theorized where they could’ve gone, but nothing of the sorts came to mind. They’ve always sort of stayed around Lawrence. Never the adventurous type, which was why their disappearance was odd.

Baby was a very comfortable horse, but it was even more comfortable to wrap his hands around Dean’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against his body. His chest was touching his back and Dean talked to him as Baby slowly rode ahead. Dean had reassured Castiel that since he didn’t feel well, Baby wouldn’t go as fast as she normally would’ve.

Hiding his blush in the night sky, Castiel’s eyes were weary and droopy. He never even got the time to get a beer, nor talk to anyone else. His trip was cut short. However, so was Dean’s.

“Sammy’s a genius, I’m tellin’ ya.” Dean filled the empty silence with something to talk about. “Been studyin’ to go to this new college called Stanford. ‘Bout five years old, fairly new. It’s all the way in California, poor guy.”

Castiel didn’t respond, but Dean could feel the nod of his body against him.

“You got any siblings?” Dean genuinely asked, cocking his head back to meet eye to eye with Castiel. Dean seemed like a good horseback, so he trusted him.

Castiel thinned his lips. “Yes... two. They don’t live around here anymore. Older brothers... uhm, Michael and Gabriel and-“

He stopped himself.

“And what?” Worry sort of filled Dean’s voice.

“I also have an older half brother... but I don’t talk to him. He sort of made my life a living hell growing up.”

“‘M sorry to hear that, Cas.”

Baby stopped in her tracks slowly, and Dean eyed Castiel’s cottage. It was on the outskirts of town, and the wooden place wasn’t the biggest, but it managed. He was proud of it. It’s been there since Lawrence founded in ‘64 and he wasn’t planning on demolishing it anytime soon.

Dean hopped off of Baby and grabbed Castiel’s hand to help him. The sickness started riling back in his gut and he walked to his front door quickly.

The wooden patio could barely hold one person without creaking in vain, crying out because of the heavy steps heaving on it. Let alone two. However, Castiel couldn’t tempt away from the green eyes and peppered freckles face with a smile he’s grown so fond of since Dean moved back.

Dean took off his hat and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around the crease and pinch of it. He looked down.

“I just realized ya forgot your hat at the Roadhouse.” Dean chuckled, his laugh music to Castiel’s ears. “Could I stop by tomorrow afternoon ‘n give it to ya? I promise I won’t mess wit’ it.”

Castiel nodded, his face becoming red. “Thank you, Dean.” He paused, then he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean simply blinked and didn’t hesitate. “Because you made me realize that angel’s were real.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel laid on his bed, first taking off all his clothing except for his undergarments. His sheets were cold with lack of use, as it has been a while since he’s used them.

Thoughts of Dean and his freckled body filled Castiel’s head. The imagery of his cock in Dean’s soft ass pumped his heart and he bit he lip, to try and attempt himself from getting hard. He had nothing but his hand to relieve himself, so he couldn’t tonight.

However, if he got lucky with Dean, he would be a sweet ride indeed.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

#suptober #suptober20 #day 10 #day 10: sweet rides #sweet rides #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #cowboy!dean #cowboy!castiel #cowboy!au #cowboy!deancas

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

All This Time

"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!"

"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"

"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too."

I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator.

Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist.

The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step.

"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me.

I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?"

As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles."

"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!"

We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?"

"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"

"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!"

Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met."

It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

"Really?"

Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help.

"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!"

Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him.

There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares.

What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him.

I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow.

"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear."

Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved."

Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"

"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."

"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—"

I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—"

After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him."

Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom."

And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too.

Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday.

Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?"

Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"

Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin.

"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!"

Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace.

It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake.

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful."

After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking."

Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please."

Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that.

Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?"

Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders.

"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?"

Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!"

Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be.

"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—"

Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment.

Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!"

"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!"

I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.

. . .

Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately.

"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"

It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with.

It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share.

Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist.

I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet.

I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day.

Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home.

Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together.

"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"

"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet."

Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too.

Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes.

The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.

Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father.

Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?"

Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei."

Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod.

At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!"

I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them.

Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days.

Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery.

I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow.

I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees.

We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats.

Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?"

Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?"

Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?"

Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest.

"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!"

Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!"

"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"

As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”

When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips.

At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight.

. . .

It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie.

Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face."

I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face."

Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help.

Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight."

Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better."

Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow.

I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom.

"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"

Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it.

"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"

Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me.

She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"

I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.

"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—"

Mom smiles, so I smile too.

"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."

. . .

When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol."

I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?"

Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!"

Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"

"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?"

"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile."

I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path."

Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps."

Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way.

"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have."

He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will."

Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."

I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me.

His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away.

We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist.

"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."

That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed.

Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child.

"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip."

They do all of these things at our request.

Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?"

"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"

Taemin's voice falters.

One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation.

Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons.

He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there.

He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us.

The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again.

I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album.

Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"

Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:

"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"

Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine.

Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try."

I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that."

"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"

"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all."

He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom."

I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do."

Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again.

He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember.

"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"

Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything."

He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand.

"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."

When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper.

While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?"

Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy."

Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal.

Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands.

Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.

"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!"

Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"

When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while.

"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?"

"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!"

I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"

Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy."

At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin.

As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!

Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush.

"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed."

Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"

"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"

As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way.

. . .

I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera.

The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2."

Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay.

"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"

I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes."

My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl.

His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge."

Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time."

Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"

"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you."

After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"

I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."

Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?"

"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait."

Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?"

"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor."

Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day."

"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."

"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee.

"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations."

My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"

Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight."

I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that."

Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—"

His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—"

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside.

Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time."

"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?"

From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace.

Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything."

Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?"

Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try.

"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can."

I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom— that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning.

Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"

As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so."

"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way."

Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.

Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.

Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next."

My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next."

Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it.

The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Promises Not Kept Part 17

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 17: Leah does her best to support Tommy as they all try to stay alive.

Tommy woke early and he was wise to be quiet. Unfortunately, the floorboards of the flat were much squeakier than he remembered. He'd forgotten which ones to avoid, the ones he'd memorized so he could sneak out at night to see Greta.

"Tom..." Leah stirred when she heard the floor creak under his weight. She blearily reached out, groping at the empty side of the bed. "Tommy?"

He paused, wondering if she'd just fall back asleep if he didn't say anything.

Instead, she blinked a few times and lifted her head. She saw her hand resting on the sheets beside her. No Tommy in sight. She turned over and caught him standing absolutely still, a slightly guilty look in his eyes. "Where'ya going?" She mumbled.

"A few things I have to do." He walked back over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Like what?" Leah yawned and reached up to graze her fingers down the nape of his neck.

"Few errands." The guns were already hidden. The ammunition concealed in clever spots around Artillery Square. Polly had already tipped Luca off. Tommy was ready to single-handedly bring this war to an end. He fully expected a shoot-out. And no matter how much he planned, he couldn't be certain that he'd make it out alive or unharmed. All he could do was trust his gut and eliminate any hesitation. Hesitation would get him killed.

Leah sat up, stifling another yawn. "Want me to come along?"

"No, love, you stay here. Get some more rest, aye?" He murmured and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Sun's barely even up."

She nodded but didn't lie back down, didn't move her arms from around him.

"Leah."

"Mhm?" She rested her cheek on his shoulder, closing her eyes again.

He was sure she could hear his heart racing. His fingers combed through her hair, slipping through her honey curls. "If anything were to happen to me, you'd take custody of Charlie, wouldn't you?" There were plenty of people who would adopt Charlie, Tommy wasn't afraid of leaving his son alone. But he wanted Leah to be the one to care for him.

"Don't like when you talk like that." She whispered. "Talking like something is going to happen."

"No one is guaranteed tomorrow." He replied quietly. "You and I both know that as well as anyone."

She simply gave him a grumble of reluctant agreement.

He sighed and nuzzled her cheek. "Just want to know you'd always be there for him."

"Tommy, of course I would be. He's become my life just as much as you have." Her hand pressed to the back of his neck to hold him closer. "I would never abandon him.

Of course he had a feeling the caring and patient woman would never do such a thing. It was obvious how attached she'd become to the little boy. But it was still relieving to hear her confirmation. It gave Tommy the strength to part from her. "I love you, go back to bed." He left her with a lingering kiss before marching off to battle. A single soldier.

~~~~~~~~~

Polly had invited Leah to spend time at her apartment with Charlie. She didn't mention a reason other than to catch up. Leah didn't think there was much to catch up on. The family were limited to such a small area in Birmingham it seemed they knew everything about everyone's movements at all times. But she was naïve to think that there were still things happening in the shadows.

Leah was sat on the floor with Charlie as he peacefully played with some toy cars. She basked in the warmth coming from the fireplace, making sure the little boy didn't get too close to the grate.

Polly began to set out teacups, more than just two for the both of them. Leah noticed but didn't ask about the extra guests. She just waited for the door downstairs to open and the footsteps to enter the room.

Tommy was still a little breathless when he walked in. He seemed a bit out of sorts, stumbling about in a daze. He knelt down to kiss the top of Charlie's head before slumping into a chair. Without a word, he took out a cigarette and his lighter. His blue eyes were fixed on Charlie who didn't seem bothered by his father's slightly off demeanor.

Leah tried to catch his gaze but he didn't budge. Polly walked over to her nephew and took the lighter out of his hand to light the cigarette in his mouth. It appeared to snap Tommy out of the haze as he gave his aunt a thankful nod.

"What are you going to tell Arthur?" Polly asked, her eyes hinting at Leah as well. Subtly adding her to the list of people Tommy needed to confess about his morning shoot out.

"I'll tell him the truth." Tommy replied.

Leah found her voice after the tense moment. "Truth about what?" She asked.

Polly raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something.

"Just need to wait for the others." He responded quietly and went back to smoking his cigarette.

The answer was less than ideal but Leah let it slide as long as he upheld his promise of telling her. She touched Charlie's arm. "Go on down the hall, I've set up your train set in Auntie's room." She murmured softly.

Charlie smiled and stood up to run out of the room and find his beloved train. Leah gathered the cars from the rug and stood up. She placed them on a side table and looked to Tommy.

He finally met her gaze and held an arm out to her. He drew her close by the waist. "Steady."

"I'm okay." She whispered back and took his face in her hands. Holding onto the tender moment as long as she could.

"I'd like to speak with you after I've spoken to everyone." The request was soft and promising so she nodded in agreement.

"They're here." Polly announced from the window.

Tommy stood and offered the chair to Leah. He paced a few strides in front of the fireplace as they waited for the others to come upstairs. Leah greeted Arthur, Linda, Lizzie, Charlie, and Johnny as they passed by her.

Arthur appeared a little agitated as he sat. Without wasting time, he confronted is brother with the news. "What the fuck happened today, Tom? We all heard. Shooting in Artillery Square."

Leah's eyes widened, enough of a question for Tommy. He didn't flinch simply nodded. "Today I killed three men. Now our enemies are down to eight."

It knocked the wind right out of her. Had he been ambushed while doing the so-called errands he said he was going to do? Or...

"I suppose they took you by surprise then."

"No." The response was clear and unapologetic. "I knew they were coming."

"Unbelievable." Leah couldn't help but let the word slip.

Tommy heard her but didn't say anything. He could atone later when they spoke about his plans. Instead, he let Polly explain the arrangement between her and Luca Changretta. The arrangement that Tommy had been well aware of for as long as it had been conceived.

"You're a fucking idiot, Tom!"

"Look, I didn't get Luca but I got three, all right?" Tommy's tone was clipped. He always had a hard time with having to explain himself. He liked when he was free to do such things without getting reamed out.

Leah was developing a headache when Charlie's little footsteps came running back down the hall. He entered the room and smiled up at his father.

"C'mere you." Tommy scooped him up and rested him on his hip.

Johnny chuckled, always amused with the chaos the Shelbys created. "I mean I thought you'd gone soft. So you got three?" He inquired curiously.

"Yeah I got three." Tommy confirmed.

Charlie tilted his head. "Got three what?" He asked innocently.

Leah tensed up a bit and waited for Tommy to make up a good enough excuse.

"I got three schillings for a two schilling horse." Tommy smiled and tousled Charlie's hair. "Why don't you go downstairs?" He set the little boy down. "Could I have a moment with Leah?" He requested.

Arthur slapped his brother on the shoulder and smiled. "Sure thing. Come on Charlie boy." He scooped up his nephew and brought him downstairs.

Once the room cleared out, Tommy shut the door. "Want a drink?" He asked.

"No thank you." She said quietly. "Why didn't you tell me about this morning?"

"Because I was going to do it anyways and I didn't want you to worry." He responded with all the honesty he could. "It wouldn't be fair for you to know because it wouldn't do you any good to know."

Leah frowned. The explanation wasn't sufficient but she wasn't going to argue. It was done. He was alive still. "I thought we were going to be open with each other now."

"I'm sorry. But I need to play my cards close." He admitted. "Only Polly knew."

She chewed on her lip and nodded. "What did you want to talk about?" She asked as if to forgive him without saying it outright.

Tommy sat next beside her and faced her. "I know we discussed getting married after this is all over. But after today I'd like to move that up." He said as if he was discussing a business matter.

"You'd like to marry me soon?" She was surprised to say the least. "Wouldn't you want to wait?"

"We can have another ceremony later but I'd like to make it official. Because now-" He sighed and let his head fall forward, ducking his head as if he were praying in front of her. His hands clasped over hers. "I would want you to legally take custody of Charlie." His eyes lifted to her.

"Tommy...nothing's going to happen."

"Please." He whispered softly. "Please just give me this. We can have a proper wedding after."

Leah couldn't deny him. She nodded and leaned forward to kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Tommy in?” Ada entered the office without much of a warning. It spooked Leah a bit because of how late it was. Charlie was asleep with Finn watching over him and Tommy hadn’t eaten all day. So Leah took the chance to bring him dinner. After that morning’s chaos, she figured it would be a long night.

“I think he should be in soon.” She answered.

His sister came in with a huff, tugging off her gloves. “He is unbelievable. I honestly cannot understand why you’re marrying him.” She snarled and flopped into Tommy’s desk chair.

Leah’s brow wrinkled in worry. “What happened?” She walked over to the desk and sat.

There were tears welling up in Ada’s eyes but she steeled herself and waved towards the liquor cart. “Can you get me a drink?” She lifted a hand over her mouth when her voice cracked.

“Of course, gin?”

“Whatever’s the most expensive thing he’s got over there.”

Not too familiar with alcohol, Leah glanced at the labels. She figured Tommy would keep only the priciest bottles in his own office so she just picked the nicest looking label. She poured Ada a glass and hesitated a moment before pouring herself one as well.

“Now tell me what happened.” She coaxed as she passed over one of the glasses.

“I was arrested by the cavalry.” Ada’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “I know Tommy was behind it.”

It was as if she were watching a tennis match but Leah couldn’t keep track of where the ball was on the court. She kept trying to find it but every time her head turned, it wasn’t there. It gave her a headache and she had no idea what to expect.

Before his fiancee had a moment to say anything, Tommy came into the office. He acknowledged Ada with a glance on his way to the liquor. “You’re sitting in my chair.”

Leah didn’t have to tell him off, Ada did the honors. “Tell me about Colonel Ben Younger. He offered me a proposition. I know you know about it and I also know when you’re lying to me.” His sister glared daggers at him.

Tommy cleared his throat and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “Ben Younger was an officer with the Warwickshire Yeomanry in Flanders.” He began to explain on his way over to the desk. He rested a hand on the back of Leah’s chair as if greeting her silently. “The only cavalryman who could ride a fucking horse.”

Ada wasn’t amused by his remark. “I was strip-searched.”

He looked like he was slapped in the face. Clearly, that hadn’t been a part of the plan. Or he at least hadn’t thought about it. “Ada…”

“Two officers watched.”

Leah knew that there was a level of comfort associated with nudity. As a young woman in London, she had to bite back her modesty as she bared every inch to strangers every night. After a few months, she learned to numb the embarrassment and insecurity that came along with allowing someone to see her in an intimate way. But Ada wasn’t like her. She had a great deal of self-respect and no doubt the event was humiliating and horrifying to her.

“Tommy…” Leah whispered.

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Ada, I didn’t know.”

Ada pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and averted her eyes. She was practically shaking with anger.

“Leah, could I speak with my sister alone?” Tommy requested. “Have one of the men walk you home.”

Without answering, she walked around the desk to touch Ada’s arm. To her surprise, the woman stood and hugged Leah tightly. She hugged her back and whispered in her ear. “Doesn’t change who you are. You’re still strong.”

Ada sniffled and drew away. “Yeah, alright.” She nodded.

Leah smiled sympathetically and placed her bag on the desk. “I brought dinner. I’m sure Tommy can share. You two should have something other than booze.” She walked over to her fiancee and kissed his cheek. “Wake me up when you get home.”

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy listened and woke her up when he arrived home near dawn. The day was weighing on him and he wasn’t sure whether it was psychosomatic pain or actual pain that was making him so stiff in the back. Climbing the stairs was near agonizing as his muscles locked up and protested against the movement. He was far too tired to draw himself a bath, especially without the built-in bathtub he was accustomed to at Arrow House. So he simply limped his way into the bedroom and began to toss aside the day.

Every little movement causing him minor aches in his nerves. His hands were trembling ever so slightly as he undid his tie and the buttons of his shirt.

He wouldn’t sleep much, if at all. But he would at least lie in bed with Leah not just for her sake but for his own.

Charlie was fast asleep, tucked away in the corner on his small cot. Leah was curled up on her side, her hand grasping at Tommy’s pillow. He had to gently move it so he could slip under the quilt beside her.

The motion didn’t wake her but prompted her to reach out in her sleep. Her fingers touching the air for half a second before falling to rest on his stomach. Tommy picked up her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers and drawing her closer to his side.

This time, Leah woke up. “Did you just get back?” Her voice was nearly silent.

“Yes.” He admitted. His eyes were glued to the ceiling, his thumb hypnotically moving back and forth over the top of her hand.

“What time’s it?” She slurred and cuddled closer.

“Quarter past three.” He answered having checked his watch before heading upstairs.

“You must be tired.” Her eyes closed again and she shifted over to get a bit more comfortable, making Tommy wrap his arm around her instead of holding her hand.

Only a small grunt was given as an answer. He didn’t even know if he was tired or not. He was just alive. “Why did you want me to wake you up?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Tommy sat with her response for a few moments. Unable to find the words. All he could do was stare up at the ceiling. The small crack in the plaster that had been there for as long as he could recall. Although, he couldn’t seem to remember if it had gotten bigger or stayed the same size. The jagged mark that formed like a lightning bolt. The last thing Tommy used to see every night when he was still stuck in Birmingham. Now he had more, much more. And yet there he was, back staring up at the ceiling.

“The fight’s tonight.”

“It is,” Tommy confirmed. “This morning, if you’re still willing, we’ll go down to the council.”

Leah opened her eyes and peered up at him. “To get married?”

He nodded ever so slightly. “If you’re willing.”

“Do you think I’m not?”

His eyes didn’t move from the same spot. “I know you love me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be here.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Then you need to quit doubting my decision. Haven’t gone back on my word, have I?”

“No.”

“And I won’t.” She reached up and guided his eyes to her, her fingers touching his cheek. “So when would you like to leave?”

A faint smile crossed Tommy’s face. “When we get married. Really get married, gonna buy you a horse. A mare…something sound but strong.”

Leah laughed softly and nuzzled his cheek. “And what will you name this horse?” She inquired, not bothered that he had spoiled his wedding gift to her.

“Madwoman.” He grinned and kissed her temple. “’Cause that’s what you are for marrying me, aye?”

Leah only shook her head and rested her cheek back on his shoulder. There were still a few more hours to spare before the sun rose on their wedding day.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

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theamberwriter · 5 years

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Movie Night Mix Up[Billy Hargrove]

[ PART TWO ]

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 3018

Warning: Cursing

Max had been getting suspicious lately. Billy wasn't as pissy as usual. And you had been hanging around a lot. Not that you knew she knew you had been. But she'd caught you sneaking through Billy's bedroom window one too many times to be a coincidence.

Max knew better than to flat out ask Billy what was going on. But she didn't know if you knew her. You didn't really have a reason to. Even if you did hang out with Steve a lot. You tended to leave when all the kids came around.

Today was one of those days, you hung out in Scoops Ahoy for no real reason. Other than to bug Steve. Along with Robin, who you'd recently become good friends with. An irritating child, you'd heard Steve scold as Erica, was pulling her third round of samples. An abuse of power really.

You sat glaring out into the mall. You were so bored. But Steve and Robin were working. And Billy was at work. And it seemed like you were the only one in Hawkins who didn't find a job! Not like you would do much with Billy other than take a drive or watch TV. Still, it was nice to be around him.

You'd been dating in secret for a few months. You hadn't gotten up the guts to tell Steve yet. You knew he'd have a fit. He hated Billy, and honestly, your boyfriend wasn't a huge fan of him either. But you'd put your foot down when you started officially dating. Billy was not going to dictate your friendships. To which he retorted about not stopping him from flirting with the town moms at the pool. You supposed he figured that would get you to give, but you didn't.

Honestly, the whole situation was kind of strange. You both played it by ear really. Neither quite having the guts to announce the relationship. You wanted to, but you hadn't convinced Billy. Not yet.

"Steve!" shouted a voice, jostling you out of your stupor.

"What do you want?" Steve groaned.

"Erica, I think you've had enough," said the voice you recognized as Lucas.

"You ain't the boss of me," she retorted. "I want to try the fudge swirl."

You glanced back to see Robin roll her eyes, but get a little sample anyway. Then you caught the eyes of Max, who was staring at you. She knew, didn't she? Goosebumps raised across your skin, and you shot up out of your seat.

"I'll see you later, Stevie!" you called, awkwardly backing out of the shop. "Movie night tonight, my place! Bring Robin!"

You ran farther into the mall until you couldn't see the Scoops Ahoy sign. You weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up. If Max was catching on, it was only a matter of time before she told the others. And then - Steve. What were you going to do? Billy wasn't going to be happy.

Max hated that you always ran away. She couldn't figure out what it was. You'd hung around with them before. Before Steve and Billy graduated. When she was still new, and trying to figure this whole 'Upside Down' thing out. She'd heard the others whisper occasionally about missing you. Then Steve would utter out a pitiful, me too.

Something had changed. And Max was going to figure out what.

"Right, movie night!" Steve had called weakly back. His grin fading quickly. He slumped onto the counter, face in his palms. "Honestly don't know why they bother anymore. Not like they're ever around for anything."

"Maybe we can help," offered Max. This was just the opportunity she’d needed.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Right, and how are you gonna do that?"

Mike jumped in then, "I mean, [Name]'s been acting weird. Maybe we can figure out why. We can snoop in on your movie night. Poke around a little, see if we can find anything."

Lucas nodded. "Maybe Eleven can use her powers to spy on them."

"We are not using El." Mike sent a sharp look at him.

"Okay. Sorry." Lucas held up his hands. "I was just saying."

"I dunno," Steve mused, "I don't want to seem like I don't trust [Name]..."

"You're never going to figure it out if you don't do anything," said Robin, finally free of Erica.

Steve hesitated then sighed. "Fine. But you're in and out. [Name] can't know I let you do this."

You wandered around the mall some before deciding to head home. What were you going to do? You couldn't have Steve find out before you were ready to tell him. Though you should've told him in the first place. You paced anxiously around your room. Watching as the clock ticked down.

Six o'clock came faster than you'd hoped. Steve and Robin were going to be at your house at any minute. You just had to act natural. You'd gotten out snacks, made popcorn, and rewound the VHS you'd rented. Now you were sat nervously on the couch.

You screamed as Steve's voice came from behind you. "So what's on the roster tonight?"

"Steve, what the hell?" you panted, twisting to see your friends behind you. "I didn't even hear you come in."

"Thought we'd surprise you," he said with a smile. Then produced a quart carton. "We brought ice cream. I'll go get spoons."

"We nicked it from one of the freezers at work," Robin said, sitting beside you. "They won't miss it."

Steve crept lightly to the kitchen. Banging around a drawer or two, so you didn’t get suspicious, before going to the back door. There stood the kids. He eased it open for them, careful not to make any noise. The group came gently stepped into the kitchen.

"Remember - you're in and out. You were never here," Steve whispered, then pointed down the back hallway. He grabbed three spoons, going back to sit with you on the sofa.

"Should we be doing this?" Will asked as they made their way up the stairs.

"[Name] used to hang out with us all the time. Then they just - stopped," Mike said, "Don't you want to know why?"

"But who says we're even going to find anything?" Will landed on a creaky step, causing a whole group pause. But all they heard was the movie. So they continued.

"Well then at least we tried, right?" Dustin asked. There were quiet whispers of agreement.

Max had a feeling they were going to find something. She just wasn't sure what yet. They split into groups, looking around the four upper rooms. Luckily enough, Max found your room. El was attached to her side.

"There's got to be something in here," Max muttered. "[Name] has been coming to my house a lot so -"

"Max," El said, pointing to something on your desk.

Max peered over her shoulder. Call me if you want your book back - Billy was scrawled on a piece of paper beside a number. It was next to your desk phone. The writing was nearly worn off, the creases of the paper soft. It'd been opened and closed a lot. There were little hearts drawn in blue pen. Along with this jerk better answer written in small script on the bottom.

"So [Name] does know Billy…" murmured Max. "Let's see if there's anything else."

Although El was hesitant, they did shuffle through your things. Random papers, clothes, books, scattered shoes - nothing interesting. Not until they looked under your bed. Max pulled out a box. From Billy was scribble across the top.

Inside was an empty chocolate box, a couple cards, a dried flower, a small stuffed animal, and a few other little things. Max knew immediately what this meant. She'd been right all along. But she didn't know how to feel about it.

"They're dating," Max said, showing the box to the guys. "[Name] and Billy are dating."

"Cool now we know," said Mike.

Dustin reached for the box, "Are you serious? We gotta tell Steve."

"No." Max shook her head, pulling the box away. "If [Name] didn't tell Steve, there's gotta be a reason."

"Yeah," groaned Lucas. "Like Billy is a big jerk."

Max glanced around the group.“But -”

"Friends don't lie, Max," said El, giving her a meaningful look.

Mike nodded. "He deserves to know."

Max deliberated silently, the box gripped tight in her hands. Then nodded, "Yeah, fine. We'll tell Steve."

"Uh, guys," Will said, coming from one of the rooms. "I don't think we'll have to."

"What do you mean?" Max's heart leaped.

Will's face was distraught. "Billy is here."

"Shit, we gotta go," rushed Lucas, heading towards the stairs.

Max caught his arm. "No, if we leave now he'll see us. We have to wait."

You about jumped out of your skin when there was a knock on your door. It was a little after seven. You weren't expecting anyone. You shoved off the couch, saying you'd be back. Your stomach dropped as you opened the door.

"Shit!" you hissed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind you. “What’re you doing here?”

Billy was there on your stoop. Trying to pose in some sort of sexy way, with that smile that made your stomach tingle. He was smelling nice, looking good - and totally unexpected. You glanced around, making sure no one was around. He seemed surprised at your reaction.

"Thought you'd be happy to see me," he said, "You ready to go?"

"Go?" you panicked, "go where?"

Billy's face fell. "I was taking you to see that movie -"

You ran a hand through your hair. "I thought that was tomorrow!"

Billy sighed, rubbing his eyes with his finger. "What day is it?"

"It's Monday," you nearly shouted, Billy cursed under his breath. He’d gotten the days mixed up. "Movie Monday with Robin and -"

"Harrington…" growled Billy, glaring behind you.

"Yes," you groaned. "I've been reminding you for months that Mondays are -"

"Months?" that was Steve's voice. And it was cold and angry and hurt.

You tensed up, your stomach growing cold. Your heart raced painfully, blood rushing deafeningly past your eardrums. This was not good. You turned to find Steve and Robin in the doorway. Steve was pissed, and Robin looked like she was trying not to laugh. You were royally fucked.

"Steve, I -" you started. Billy pulled you toward him, holding you close. Glancing at him, you feared the hatred in his eyes.

Steve's glare went between you and Billy. "When were you going to tell me? Once you two were off on your honeymoon!! What the hell are you even thinking?!"

You tugged against Billy's steel grip. You were going to have bruises. "Steve, I can explain!"

"Don't bother, glad to know he's more important," he spat, then slammed the door. You pounded on it with your fists. "Go away!"

"You're in my house!" you cried, "Can't we talk about this?"

"So you can what?" yelled Steve, ripping open the door. "Lie to me some more?"

“Easy there, Harrington,” Billy warned. You elbowed him and shook your head.

You groaned loudly, your throat becoming thick as you choked back tears. "This is why I didn't tell you! This is why we kept us a secret. Because I knew you'd have a problem with this!"

"So now I'm the problem?! I'm pretty sure you're dating the problem!" Steve gestured to Billy as he stepped forward.

Billy tensed behind you. You wedged yourself between the two. "Behave, both of you! For God's sake!"

Tears brimmed over and down your cheeks. Frustration, anger, despair - this was why you'd wanted to pull Steve aside and tell him. Talk to him about it. Anything but this, this was the worst way to find out. You jumped off the side of the small porch, into the flowerbed. Then stormed off around the house.

“Where the hell are you going?” Steve yelled; Billy snapped something at him.

"Oh shit," groaned Dustin as you spotted the group. They were hiding in the backyard. The box was still in Max’s hands. She tried to hide it.

You sniffled. "What the hell are you all doing here?"

Dustin paused. "Well I, uh -"

You spied the Billy Box in Max’s hands and gasped. "Were you in my house?! Did Steve put you up to this?!"

Nobody spoke. But guilt and panic were evident on their faces. Your chest ached, realizing that he really didn’t trust you. He didn’t trust you enough to wait for you to tell him what was going on. It hurt more that he didn’t come out and ask about it. You would’ve told him.

"No, I did," Max said, stepping forward. She held the box out to you. "I - I've seen you climb out of Billy's window. A lot. So I thought we'd come and -"

"You don't have to cover for him, Max. It's okay. Billy and I are dating, so - surprise. I'm sorry, guys." You took the box and sank to the ground. "I should've told you. But I was scared. We were scared."

"Why?" Max asked, sitting beside you. Everyone sat where they were.

You wiped your eyes. "Your stepdad isn't the nicest. Billy was afraid, somehow, someway, he'd end up taking his frustration with Billy out on me instead. And you know Billy doesn't have the best reputation. I didn't want to tell anyone yet, because I knew I'd lose people over it. Girl friends who wanted him, and guy friends who hated him. My family is always griping about the Hargrove Boy. And Steve, God Steve - I was so scared of losing him. But I did anyway, cause I'm a fucking idiot…I should've just said something. Billy and I have been dating for eight months, ya know. Well before we even graduated. Fuck, I'm so stupid…he's not going to forgive me for this one. And Billy…"

There was a hand on your shoulder, and someone sat near to you. You were overtaken by the scent of cologne. You looked up to see Billy, no black eyes in sight. He gave you a small smile, leaning his forehead to yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," he breathed. "I'm the screw-up. The hell are all these kids doing here anyway?"

You shook your head a little. "This was my fault. If we were keeping it a secret, I should've told Steve, at least. Then he wouldn’t have had to tell them to spy on me. And I'm sorry…" You looked over at the cluster of teens. "I ignored you guys. It was stupid. I shouldn't have done that. I was just so worried about slipping. Then you would say something to Steve…"

"It's okay, [Name]," said Dustin, "I totally get it. My girlfriend, Shelly -"

"I think what Dustin's trying to say," Lucas interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Is that we forgive you."

You smiled. "Thanks, Stevie won't."

"I might." You flinched, turning to find Steve wandering slowly into the backyard. "If you stop calling me Stevie. It always did drive me crazy."

"Steve." You got part of the way up, but he sat on your other side. So you lowered yourself back to the ground. You could feel the tension coming from either side of you.

Steve glared at your boyfriend. "If he makes you happy, I don't wanna get in the way of that. I'm still pissed that you didn't tell me. - but I don't think I would've told me either. I’m sorry about sending them in. I guess, I just got tired of waiting for you to talk about what was up."

Steve took your hand, which caused Billy tense up. He grumbled under his breath, but you elbowed him.

"I'm still your friend," Steve assured. "I promise. But tell me next time you're secretly dating someone. This was honestly the worst way -"

"If Billy hadn't gotten the dates mixed up," you gritted out, shooting a glare at him over your shoulder. He shrugged sheepishly. "Then I've would've told you differently."

“How’d you two meet anyway?” Steve nodded to the box in your lap. “And what’s that?”

Heat filled your cheeks as Billy leaned in and tapped the box lid. “What is that, doll face?”

Steve grumbled at the pet name but you didn’t pay it any mind. You sighed. “I let Billy borrow one of my textbooks when we were in school. He said that if I wanted it back, that I’d have to call him. I put it off until I couldn’t anymore. So I called him, and we sort of - hit it off. We agreed to keep it a secret until the time was right. I didn’t think it would be this long. I’ve kept everything he gave me in this box.”

Billy chuckled, kissing your cheek. “Didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

You puffed out air, “Yeah, well…”

"You nerds gonna come finish this movie or what?" Robin called out the back door. You'd honestly forgotten she was there.

"Yeah," you called, "we're coming. Get another bowl of popcorn going!"

You stood as Robin disappeared back into the house. You pulled Steve to his feet and held out a hand to Billy. You clutched the box and Billy’s hand, heading for the house.

"You kids coming, or you plan on hanging out here all night?" you asked, nodding towards the door. They couldn't scramble to their feet and in the door fast enough. You caught Max's arm, though, pulling her aside. "Hey, Max, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I mean, I am dating your brother. I should've said something, I hope you can forgive me."

"Yeah, I’m sorry about going through your stuff," Max said, hugging you. You hugged her back. "Just don't get married in secret too. I want to be in your wedding."

You laughed, then the two of you headed in. Billy and Steve moved awkwardly around each other. Glaring when they thought the other wasn't looking. You rolled your eyes, going to the couch next to Robin. The kids kicked the guys to the floor. Billy leaned against your knees. And Steve sat leaning against the far arm of the couch.

You were really going to have to work on their friendship. But at least you were forgiven. Now there was just everyone else to tell.

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 8/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, bit of fluff

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing, mentions of smut, but not full-on

Word count: 3861 (I’m sorry if there are any mistakes :D )

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

“Absolutely not!” “Are you fucking kidding me?” “In your fucking dreams!” “Over my dead body!” Billy concluded the barrage of responses. “Guys,” Y/N said in a matter of fact voice, “it’s the best plan that we have.” Her husband scoffed. “You are not going to the Upside Down! None of us are going to the Upside Down!” “You have any better ideas?” she challenged and was met with a scowl. “We can just grab Neil and pull that exorcist shit on him,” Dustin said, trying to diffuse the growing tension. “Yeah?” Y/N let out a small laugh. “And where do you propose we do it? In front of Max’s mom? Or how about the hundreds of people that will be going to the graduation? Oh wait, maybe we can do it at Benny’s which will be crawling with his little minions as they gather for a celebratory meal.”

Billy was seething by that point, but so was Y/N. “No, we can’t do that," Hopper was nodding his head and pointed at Y/N, "but we can distract him. The kids can be the diversion we need to get to the Upside Down. He knows, that she’s no longer one of them, so it’s safe to assume, he knows we know about everything. But it’ll throw him off of his game when he sees all of them show up to the ceremony like nothing’s happened.” Joyce smacked Hopper’s bicep and sternly stated, “We’re not using the kids as bait!” “Mom,” Will started butting in before she could hit Jim again. “Most of us are eighteen… I’m eighteen. I know you want to protect us, but we can do it. We’ll be fine.” “Not a fucking chance,” Joyce growled back at him. “I won’t let that thing or anyone possessed by it get anywhere near you, got it?” That started a whole other argument as to how safe it was for them to even be in the near vicinity of Neil and the flayed. Y/N had mentioned that Tina, Vicky and Tommy had been a part of the possessed, as was most from the party. That alone equated to around fiftyish people; almost half of what it had been the last time. But with how much stronger the Mind Flayer had gotten, there was no way to safely be around them, though of one thing Y/N could ease everyone’s, mostly Joyce’s and Johnathan’s, minds on. “Whenever its expelled from a host,” she said, “it can’t return; there’s like this barrier. It’s like chicken pox – you get them once and it's done.” Billy wanted to interject and say that wasn’t true, seeing as Clara had gotten them on her first day in kindergarten, and he had caught them from their little girl. “I thought you said you had them as a kid,” Y/N snorted, as she rubbed an ointment on his back the doctor said would help with the itching. “That’s ‘cause I did,” Billy grumbled and glared at his two-year-old. He hissed at Y/N when she slapped his hand away from where it was inching to go and scratch at his thigh. “You scratch,” she pointed a finger at him, “then you’ll have to go through a month without sex.” Billy’s eyes narrowed at her. “You wouldn’t.” “Just try me.” And he did. Not for a second had he believed that she’d go through with the threat, given how their intimate life, for the lack of a better term, was incredibly active. But as he was grinding his hips into hers one night, palms gripping and reacquainting themselves with Y/N’s body, she suddenly made him sit upon his knees, as she trailed a palm down his chest. “I wanna uh,” she stammered out and bit her lip. “I wanna try something.” Excitement glinted in his blue eyes. “Anything you want, dollface,” Billy replied before kissing down her neck. In the meantime, Y/N flipped them over, so she was on top, and from the underside of his pillow she pulled out a silk scarf. Teasingly she lifted her eyebrow and motioned for him to put his hands against the metal bed frame. “You know, if it was anyone else, I’d never let them do this to me,” Billy moaned out as Y/N sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck after she had secured his hands above his head. The knot was tight but not so tight that it didn’t allow blood flow to his fingers. In truth, he’d never even allow the thought to be restrained like that with anyone else but her. After the whole Mind Flayer thing, one of Billy’s biggest fears was to not be in control of his body and his actions, but with Y/N he felt safe and loved, so he’d indulge in her little games whenever she wanted to. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel eager to see where this would go. “If it was anyone else,” Y/N muttered in his ear and nipped at the lobe making a shiver ripple down his spine. “Then you and her, would be six feet under.” It was thrilling to be in that position as he let her have all the control. It was thrilling to be trying something new. Ever since Clara, they didn’t get much time to themselves, just a quickie here or there, or their lazy morning sex disrupted by a two-year-old babbling something along the lines of breakfast as she’d climbed out of her crib and was trying to wiggle the doorknob open. “Oh, and one more thing,” Y/N whispered against the skin of his neck, making Billy practically shake in anticipation before it was all washed away by confusion. “I told you not to scratch.” And she was off of him, back to her side of the bed with a book in her hands like nothing had happened. Billy was still a bit dazed from all of the lust, so he just managed to whimper out a ‘what?’ before realization hit. “Come on!” he groaned and tugged at the restraints. “You can’t be serious, baby! What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull here?” “It’s not bullshit,” Y/N closed her book and crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you not to scratch, and yet there are clearly marks all over your sides.” Struggling a bit Billy pushed his hip up and saw the angry red stripes he’d left over his scars and cursed under his breath. Y/N was very particular in how and where she touched him, the same way as he was with her, and the irritated skin was a dead giveaway. After the Mind Flayer, Billy couldn’t even look at Y/N’s neck without bile rising to his throat at the memory of his own hands squeezing the delicate skin so hard she had passed out, and he’d left bruises that wouldn’t go away for almost two months. And Y/N refused to touch his waist for almost half a year, afraid she’d cause him more pain where the monster had ripped into his sides. So, when Billy had confronted her about this, after months of barely-there hugs, after being so touch-starved by the one person who never shied away from giving all of her love, she spilt her guts to him. Ever since then, he made sure, Y/N knew she could never hurt him, but even with that, she was afraid to cause any sort of pain, so the only way her hands would wrap around his waist would be to soothe and gently run over the marks, reminding him she loved him the way he was. “But it itches,” he whined arching up from the bed and trying to twist around so he could somehow untie the scarf but his attempts were very much so unsuccessful. “And it’s going to itch even more if you keep scratching at them,” Y/N emphasized the last three words before giving him a small peck on his lips and turning off the lamp. “Night baby, love you.” Billy had just grunted in response and huffed, plopping down onto the mattress. When Y/N set her mind on something, she went through with it, including her plan of basically storming the Upside Down and blowing that place to smithereens. He was wasting his breath by that point, as he continued to go on and on about why she wasn’t going or why it was a horrible idea to even think about going to the Upside Down, but Y/N looked bored to the point she might pass out. Just as Billy was about to go on another rant that he would not let his wife, who’d just been possessed by the exact same monster that occupied the other dimension, the mother of their child, to go and fight it, Y/N sighed and interrupted him. “Look, I get it, and trust me, I have actually no desire to go there, but it’s the best chance at ending everything once and for all.” Everyone’s eyes were on her, and Y/N hung her head as she started to explain. “How many more times can we fight that thing? How many more times can El close the Gate before it’s opened again? It’s like a cycle at this point, but where everyone welcomes autumn after the summer, I don’t think any of us wants to go through this shit again. I know it sounds completely crazy and has a like ninety-five percent chance of being a complete failure, but it’s the best shot we have at ending this. Forever.” Silence fell over everyone, the only sound being the crackling in the fireplace. As much as they wanted to disagree, they knew Y/N was right. Too many times they’d fought the Upside Down, and every time it retaliated. It was just a matter of time before it won. “Fine,” Billy practically gritted through his teeth, glaring at Y/N. “But if you’re going, so am I.” The answer that came from her mouth made him want to punch a wall. “No, you’re not. If you don’t show up at Max’s graduation, it will look very suspicious” “Even though the Mind Flayer already knows about everything?” Lucas snorted and shook his head just as Max said, “as if I’m going to that thing when we have interdimensional monsters after our asses.” “Neil will have to show up. And after how big of a deal we, made this whole thing out to be," Y/N gave Billy a pointed gaze, "you have to be there. We can just say that something came up in San Diego with Clara, and I had to leave quicker, so my mom isn’t as suspicious, but everything else has to be as if it's just a normal day and nothing’s happened.” “Uh, except everything’s happened,” Steve butted in, and Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no shit, dingus, but we need to think strategies here. The people that have to show up since everyone expects them to show up-” and she pointed at each and everyone as she called their names, “Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Max, Will, and yes, you Alex too, stop shaking your head. The people that subsequently have to be there – Nancy, Johnathan, Joyce and you Billy. We don’t want El anywhere near the flayed, everyone thinks Hopper’s dead, and Steve and Robin could just pass off as if something came up or they partied too much.” “So, your plan is to infiltrate a lab crawling with the Russian army with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, Robin, a dead cop and El?” Billy crossed his arms in front of him, as if in defiance. Sure, he knew El kinda had to go with, she was the only one who could close the gate for good, and Hopper was probably their best bet to defend Y/N and the rest, and he knew both Robin and Steve were smart enough to figure things out and hold their own when needed, but he just wanted to find a reason, needed to find a reason to either put himself in the group Y/N was in, or prohibit her from going. She shrugged her shoulders before hissing, having completely forgotten about the throbbing wounds in her back. “And what’s wrong with that? We can use the tunnels from Benny’s and given how the Demogorgon’s back, it means there are portals open. I say we find one, use that as our entrance and line it and everywhere else that's possible, maybe even the other side of the Gate, with explosives, while the other group deals with the Gate and closes it once and for all.” Max was nodding along to what Y/N was saying. It wasn’t a good plan, but most likely the best that they had. “And how will we know the other group is safe? How will we know they’re out, and the bombs can be detonated?” Y/N huffed before replying. “Radios. We each take one, and then, once we’re out, we radio in.” “One, where are you planning on getting explosives? And two – what about the Commies? I don’t think the Russians will welcome you with open hands.” Dustin asked before Billy could erupt again, and Y/N bit her lip before replying in perfect Russian that 'It won't be a problem.' “Since when do you know Russian?” Billy asked with eyebrows so high up in his forehead they almost disappeared into his hair. Y/N just shrugged. “After the last time thought it might be useful one day. Also, Hopper, can you call those friends of yours? The ones you know, who showed up to the epilogue of everything? We could use the manpower... and firepower…” “Does any bit of your plan solely rely on the fact they’d be able to provide your mentioned explosives?” Hopper grunted but reached for the phone, that somehow was still in working order. Only then did he realize that electricity was still running through the house, despite the numerous heaters he himself had plugged in. From the corner of his eye, he saw Joyce bristle a bit when he noticed that the line wasn’t dead and had to contain the small smile pulling at his lips. She’d taken care of his daughter and house…. "Dude, we so could've used you," Steve grumbled but didn't say anything else putting all of his attention onto the ex-police chief. With a sigh, Hopper punched in the number that would connect him to the DoE, and an awkward silence settled all over. Alex, Max and Mike were all rocking back and forth on their feet, Robin was leaning against the wall, chewing on her nail, while Steve, Nancy, Johnathan, Joyce, Dustin and Lucas had all thrown themselves down onto the floor, Billy having made Y/N sit on the only available chair in the room. As the heat from the heaters slowly dissipated, another kind of wave flushed over them, and it could only be described as anxiety. Millions of questions that didn’t need to be uttered out loud swirled in their heads. What if they didn’t answer? Would the plan work? Was it even in the realm of possibility for it to be successful? “This is uhhhhh, Jim uhhh Hopper…?” he said his name in a way that seemed like he himself didn’t know, which made everyone, but Joyce’s heads snap up in confusion. “I got this number from Doctor Sam Owens, I called a few years ago…?” “Is he for real?” Y/N hissed at Billy? This could not go any smoother… A little pause settled as Hopper racked his brain for whatever it was, they were asking for, when he suddenly snapped his fingers and said, ‘Antique chariot’. The hand that was not holding the phone turned into a fist. “Yes, I know that the person whose code it is, is dead, but I’m not dead. As you can clearly see – hear. Now can you please send someone to Hawkins? Shit’s going down. Again.” Whoever was on the other line was not making him happy as he practically slammed his hand through the wall. “Look, just tell Owens the Russians kept me somewhere in fucking Siberia, and I’m alive, and that the Russkies have opened the Gate. Again! I need back up, a lot of it, and send them to the Hawkins Lab.” Another beat passed. “Yes, I know, Jim Hopper has been proclaimed dead, but I’m not dead!” A reluctant sigh escaped his mouth before he banged the phone onto the receiver and put his hands on his hips. “Are they coming?” Steve asked arms crossed much like Robin’s, and his shoulders dropped as Hopper shrugged. “I don’t know. He said my message would be relayed” his rough voice was filled with resignment and yet was somehow determined. “But we don’t have time to waste on waiting. We gotta start doing something. Now.” Nancy clapped her hands. “Let's go then.” That set everyone into motion. As the Party started to gather up all the aluminium foil and took out the heaters from the plugs, Billy pulled Y/N by her bicep to the side, and said, “I’m going where you’re going.” “Billy,” Y/N muttered cupping his cheeks, and he practically melted against her touch. “You have to go. You might be the only one that could get through to him.” He almost scoffed but just shook his head. “There’s no getting through to Neil; there’s no point.” “El got through to you. When even I couldn’t, El was able to…” a sympathetic yet understanding look came over her face. “Don’t cross him off, just because he’s a shitty person. I now you want a reason to not try. Trust me, I do… but if there’s even a small possibility we can get that thing out of him, we have to at least make an attempt. If only because he’s a person as well.” “A fucking despicable one,” Billy grumbled not looking into Y/N’s eyes. “No one’s arguing about that,” she said, but he wasn’t budging. “I’m not saying you have to mend your relationship after this is over, I’m not saying you have to even talk to him, after we’re done with this shit… we can leave everything behind, but we have to try and save everyone we can..." “Okay,” he softly whispered. “But you have to promise me to stay out of harm’s way.” Y/N’s head tilted to the side, ready to say she couldn’t give him that, there was no way she could promise something that was in no way in her control, but he shook his head. “If I’m doing this, if I’m going against my dad, you have to promise me, you’ll stay safe. If Hopper tells you to step back, you get out of the fucking room. If El says to run, you bolt like fucking hell… I just,” Billy shuddered at the words about to come out of his mouth. “I just can’t lose you, okay? I won’t be able to go on. Too much bad shit’s already happened because of me, because I pushed you away, and now you’re making me do the one thing I really don’t want; you’re making me be somewhere, where I don’t know you’re safe, where I can’t protect you, so please... do this one thing for me...” Desperate tears threatened to slip down her cheeks, but Y/N held them at bay. Her crying wouldn’t help anything, and there really weren’t any words that could quench his fear, as there was nothing, he could say that would stop the icy emotion from taking over her own mind, so she only tightened her grip around his palm. “Just,” Billy struggled to get the words out of his mouth but swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Just come back to me, okay? Preferably in one piece without a single strand on your hair amiss, but just… come back to me…” Y/N nudged his nose with her, and a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. Even in a moment where they both were talking about their possible deaths, she could take some of his worries away, despite her not knowing it. “Hey, I already did, cause your stubborn ass wouldn’t let go of me. And as long as you do the same, we have a deal.” “Dollface, you are stuck with me. Till the very bitter end.” Then his lips were on hers. Urgent, passionate, like fire flowing through his veins, he kept their mouths pressed together for as long as possible, and Y/N was in no way pulling back. Despite the burning sensation of pain that rushed all the way down her back and even to her heels, she lifted her arms so they could drape across his shoulders, and her fingers tangled into the damp mess that was Billy’s dirty blond curls. She tugged at them, begging him to come closer, but only a thin layer of clothing and their skin were what separated the two. “Good,” Y/N gasped out as Billy finally allowed both of them to come up for some air. “I better be. Though it won’t be bitter,” Y/N remarked as she pulled back and squeezed his hand one last time in comfort. “I prefer sweet things rather than sour ones. Just look who I married –“ she used her palm to gesture at him stepping away, “the mushiest guy in Hawkins.” And although it was supposed to be lighthearted, although she was trying to make him feel better, with every step that Y/N took to join her group and discuss how they were going to go about things, Billy memorized each and every curve, dip and line of her body. He’d done it a million times before and was sure he’d never be able to forget any single detail, but knowing where she was going, who she’d be up against and who he himself would be facing, made Billy want to sear the image of her face in his mind. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of the thoughts. “You okay?” Max asked as he saw Nancy sport a compassionate look on her face as her eyes drifted away from her ex-boyfriend. Just because she wasn’t with Steve anymore and hadn’t been for years, didn’t mean she didn’t love him in her own way. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved Johnathan wasn’t going with them to the Upside Down. Billy nodded giving his sister a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine. Let’s get this show on the road.” With the first rays of the sun, his group piled into Nancy’s car, and with a longing look, he watched as Y/N slowly with El’s help stepped into the back of Hopper’s wagon. ‘I love you’ he mouthed in her direction and received a smirk in response. Fuck did he love that smirk. ‘I know’ she mouthed back before the doors were closed. “Nerd,” he muttered under his breath as Nancy revved up the car, and it sprung to life. They’d finish this shit once and for all. And then they’d leave Hawkins forever and would not look back. Billy would make sure of it.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Billy’s tag list: @la-reina-tigresa @youcanstandundermyumbrella

Hawkins’ Charm tag list: @genius2050 @aiifandomsunite @ashleymarieriffle @littlefool-smalljester @infinitelycharmed23 @llcalumllhoodll @benevolentgemini @rxmanovbby @euphoniumpets @krazykatykat456 @believerofall @ccidk @babechief @meganmj @blackhood5sos @fml9603 @noodlenerd101 @universefinds @kuroidesuchloe @im-a-stranger-thing @grxxn-gardxns @springholland @beforethebraces @robinisourlesbianmom @queeneliza108 @neenaw-neenaw @lexisntthatweird @choicesismylife @mckenzie2020 @kcd15 @snuggleducky @reckless-sofia @didyouseetheflair @silver-winter-wolf @jay-ta-blog @hopeless-lovex0 @anyasthoughts @robinismyqueen @yeah-butyourenot-dacremontgomery @mcrganstarks @psychoticobsession @cutehipstergirl25 @sbfandom @mickmoon @jackyfrost01 @txhmine @dark-princess99 @morgangrice18 @changingmylifestyle367 @sweetdayme4427 @alowexpectation @sexyvixen7 @golddvstwoman @evelynfreakinaddams @sunfucked @sataninsatin @queenbbarnes @venomavocado @rangotangomango @psychosupernatural @sereiins @frickin-bats @bandsruinedmylife @thee-brunette-princess @queenskyster @aspiring-fangirls-world @gracethegeek9902 @katiexdacre @dreamwavej @escaping-reality21 @void-fire-rose @slvtherinseeker @paranoiadestroyah @arromite @jojo-buttercup @danarysstormborn @graveyard--baby--666 @teller258316 @hello-therree @stqrker @bethanystan @enthusiastoffandoms14 @i-bitch-you-bitch @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air

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

A/N: tell me what you thought :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

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ambitionsource · 4 years

Text

S2 Rewatch - Maggie’s Take [ 207 ]

oh honey we’ve got a big storm coming...

Favorite scene

We’re getting to the point now in the season where all these questions become a million times harder to answer. All the scenes have an oomph to them. All the characters are at their richest. All the performances go off. So forgive me for cheating and giving multiple answers from here on out most likely. So in 207, three answers jump to mind. 1) The sequence where Farkle is having his true meltdown, before “Santa Fe.” From a writing standpoint, I remember I was really proud with how that scene turned out. It was a fun challenge, trying to capture that anxiety and panic and loss of reality. A fun fact that you may or may not know is that nearly all of the lines of dialogue said by the hallucinated characters are repetitions or variations on dialogue that has actually already been said in the show, meant to highlight how Farkle’s brain has taken these (usually offhand) comments and held onto them obsessively and in some cases even warped them into something more antagonistic than they were. Then there was the pattern of tying the sentiments together into one overarching monologue of sorts, repeating that thematic word over and over, “enough.” It was just so fun to write, and I’m really happy with how it came together. 2) The Dylan, Lucas, and Asher argument in the booth. Ooh, buddy. This was a true turning point, both for the narrative and for Asher and Dylan as characters. To me, that is the scene where they rise from supporting characters to mains, and in some ways it’s a long time coming. I love how it highlights the imperfections at play between that trio, and the way that Lucas and Asher know exactly how to get at one another, but nothing gets me more than Dylan’s “HEY” and stepping in between them. How Dylan snapping seems to be what pulls Lucas out of his anger, and how Dylan’s anger only lasts seconds before it shifts into like shock / concern... ugh I love him. I love them! Definitely a standout scene, even back when I first wrote it, but even more so now that Dylan and Asher have such larger roles in the third season. 3) The unintentional coming out scene between Riley and Charlie. The whole thing is just rich with tension, like I love the moment where Charlie is like you can’t tell anyone you can’t -- and she just interrupts him and it goes dead silent until she’s emphatically like I would never tell anyone... like chills, bro. Chills. And the relief that comes from Riley finally understanding why he’s been acting the way he has... so good. The follow up to this choice is the Zay and Charlie scene at the end where the freedom of someone knowing seems to allow him the strength to kiss Zay in their studio... I love them. I love it all. Whew.

Favorite performance

It’s getting hard... it’s getting tough to choose... like “Santa Fe” is up there because of the raw emotion of it and what it represents for Farkle and his arc. “Loser” is great too, mainly in concept, as we have Dasher acting as Lucas’s subconscious mind essentially and all of the cool choices in the production of the number. But I think I will have to go with “Waving Through A Window,” as that is such a standout performance in my opinion. It delivers emotionally, it has a cool flow and concept, there’s snow... whenever it comes on AMBITION shuffle I’m like oh yeah. Now we’re talking. And I love the visual of Isadora being stuck on the acting block / courtyard table, always inches from falling off the ledge but managing to avoid disaster. It’s just a really cool visual in my head. So that’s the top for me I think.

Favorite character (within context of the episode)

I literally can’t choose. I don’t know what to say. I think I’ll say maybe Charlie and Zay? Both in their storyline together as well as individuals. They’ve both got great solos (“Consideration” and “Exhale”), Charlie has his devolution emotionally and Zay finally (righteously) snaps at Angela. They find refuge, in Riley and Harper and of course each other. There are standout moments throughout the episode for their relationship -- holding hands at the top in the studio, Charlie hugging Zay in the hallway to comfort him and telling him it’s okay, the fraught moment of Charlie snapping at Zay about being at his locker which feels like a tiny unintentional step back, Charlie’s frazzled kiss on the cheek in public, the ending scene with another handhold and the softest kiss... ugh I love them. They were at a peak this episode, which makes sense considering what’s about to come...

Favorite line(s)

“You know what, you’ve got a lot to think about. Let me just get out of your hair. Best of luck with this next phase in your life, sir. Save a little social security for the rest of us provided climate change doesn’t kill us first!” --Lucas James Friar, to Eric

“I mean, but what am I going to do instead? Follow in the footsteps of my mom? I won’t survive veterinary school, Mister E. And you can only cure lung cancer once!” --Darby Winters

“Might be nice to help combat the impending danger of climate change and issues with renewable resources by studying environmental sciences or maybe aeronautical space engineering in pursuit of space materials that could be used as new energy sources. Ooh, or a rodeo clown!” --Dave Williams

“Actually, I’m near-sighted. But I wear contacts.” --Dylan Orlando, in response to Eric asking if his future plan is “short-sighted”

“I looked into “space cowboy,” but as it turns out you need a degree in aerospace engineering as well as a license to boy cows, and that seems like a lot of work. So then I thought, well, if I don’t have the capacity to work, what else is there in this capitalistic hell we call society? Sure, I could probably enter myself in human cage fights and scrap to death for spare change, but I think that would hurt after a while and to be honest, I think I’d feel a bit like a piece of meat if I took up that mantle. Who would I be fighting to impress? The bourgeoisie? Hard pass. But after some deep, probing soul-searching, I finally hit the one. Trophy husband. Now, I know what you’re thinking. To accomplish such a grand ambition, I’d have to get someone to like me. And that’s a pretty hefty task, believe me I know, but I’ve devised a work around. This is, as Dave would say, galaxy-brained thinking, Mister E. I’m going to put an ad on Craigslist.” --Lucas James Friar

“It’s easy to say you believe in someone. Showing up for them is a different story.” --Zay Babineaux

“We’re friends, Lucas. We care about you. Asher wasn’t lying about that. And when you decide you want to do something about this, we’ll be there. When you need us... we’re going to be there for you. No matter what.” --Dylan Orlando

“I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but the truth is it all comes down to endurance. How long you can take it, how long you can stick it out until it ends up being your shot. The true test of who lives the dream is who hangs on… and who gives up.” --Harper Burgess

An underrated moment

There are so many it would be so hard for me to pick one if I thought about it too hard, so I’m gonna go with my gut. My favorite mini moment in the episode is during the end montage, when Dylan climbs in the window to comfort Asher. There’s a lot of small details I like about it that occur just within like 30 seconds -- Asher’s routine with crushing up his anxieties (a thing elaborated on in Cruel Summer), how commonplace it is for Dylan to climb in the window, and how he jumps into comfort mode and they both fall into that without any words at all. I just love it. And I can picture the way Dylan kisses his cheek and then his shoulder and then rests his head against him so perfectly... I adore them. They are angels.

First impression vs your reread impression

Obviously, even when I wrote this last year it felt major. Because it is. This is the turning point episode, literally and narratively. It’s smack in the middle, and from here I knew everything was going to be bigger and more, especially since we pulled the (metaphorical) trigger with Farkle. We knew that was a narrative risk, but we felt strongly about it, and we took every method we thought possible to set it up well, be cautious about it to y’all (with trigger warnings and hotlines, etc.), and then follow through on it in a way that balanced realism with care and attention. I think we managed to pull it off, but it was a great relief that you all reacted so well to it (in terms of the narrative, not like joyously LMAO) and trusted us to carry it forward. That kind of trust in a writer means a lot, and that’s what I’ll always remember when I think about this episode. Thankfully, we all survived it, and now here we are on the cusp of S3. Insane. And now onto 208... the storm is here...

#s2 reread #s3 countdown #rr: by maggie #rr: 207 #what an episode. what a time.

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clericbyers · 5 years

Note

will finding out about mikes nightmares at a sleepover one night. mikes never told anyone because he always felt like he had no right to, because of everytging wills been through. will just cuddles him and tells him that of course he’s gonna be there for him, always. they’re both so in love.

[ part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 ]

crossposted to AO3

————

“We’re gonna hang with the Party tomorrow, yeah?” Mike asked as he searched through his dresser for a too-large t-shirt. It had the Hawkins High mascot on the front and he cringed to himself about being one of those people wearing their high school’s logo.

Will though hummed an affirmation from his perch on Mike’s bed. “Lucas said he’s coming over in the late morning. We’ll bike over and grab Dustin before heading to Max’s place.”

“And from there, we go into town for lunch.” Mike took off his shirt and absentmindedly stretched his arms up. He could feel Will’s gaze on him and he smiled to himself before grabbing a pair of boxers. “I’m gonna shower; feel free to snoop around or whatever.”

“Your room hadn’t changed a bit since I was gone, Mike.” Will scoffed but slipped off the bed as he padded his way to Mike’s side. “I doubt you have something to hide that I need to snoop for.”

Mike froze and really tried his best not to glance over at his desk where his antidepressants and anxiety medications resided. The bottles were in a black bag on his desk hidden away in a corner. There was something about seeing the transparent orange bottles that reminded Mike of his inability to take care of himself without aid and that reminder wasn’t one he wanted to literally see every time he came into his room. He still hadn’t found a way to tell Will about his meds or the therapy or how he heard his parents fighting and a divorce might be down the line. Will had enough issues to deal with anyway. Now that they were boyfriends, it was harder for Mike to keep the secret.

Friends don’t lie. Boyfriends especially shouldn’t lie.

Yet, here Mike was, lying through obfuscation. Never saying exactly what’s up and leaving things vague enough to not be questioned.

A wave of nausea struck Mike’s gut and he turned to his door with a shudder. “Yeah. Anyway, shower. I’ll be quick.”

Mike left the room with a quick peck on Will’s cheek. His mind was racing through various emotions, landing guilt and regret and anger and self-deprecating thoughts laced with anxiety and anguish. By the time he got to the bathroom, which wasn’t far, Mike was having some trouble breathing and he hated it. He hated the panic, the shaking of his hands, the way he couldn’t maintain basic control of how his body reacted. What type of leader was he to be losing it in the bathroom face to face with his gaunt and paper-white pale reflection? His freckles stuck out even more against his pallor skin and the boy closed his eyes with a deep breath.

Breathe, Mike remembered his therapist saying when he had an anxiety attack in the very first session where she asked him how he felt powerless about losing his friends. Breathe, focus on the five seconds you hold in your air, and then let the thoughts flow out of you as you breathe out.

Mike did as previously directed until he could no longer feel his hands shaking. He turned on the water and showered for a few minutes, taking a little more time to let the warm water massage his back with gentle pressure and calm his tense muscles. He dried off and changed in the bathroom before heading back to his room with a whistle. Will was flipping through an old comic book but looked up when he heard Mike enter the room.

Mike nearly dropped all his clothing at the sight before him. It wasn’t anything new persay; Will often word Mike’s clothing if he stayed over without packing a bag, but this—Will wearing Mike’s old t-shirts and pyjama shorts, Will wearing his boyfriend’s clothing—was definitely shocking at least. It struck Mike again that Will was his boyfriend and it wasn’t a fantasy he had been trying to ignore for years. It was only five days since Christmas Eve when Joyce and his mom accidentally revealed to the two boys that they liked each other, so it was still fresh enough in his mind, but little things like Will in his room wearing his clothing made Mike realize all over again that the boy of his dreams was really his boy in real life.

“God, I love you,” Mike whispered hoarsely, tossing his clothes in the hamper before rushing to the bed. He grabbed Will’s face and tilted his chin to kiss him. Will melted into the kiss with a soft hum. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Mike.” Will pulled away and reached out to take Mike’s hand. “Any reason you’re suddenly telling me?”

“Do I need a reason? I get to tell you how I feel every day for the rest of our lives. You can bet your ass I’m gonna take every chance I can.” Mike watched Will blush furiously and he couldn’t help but kiss him again. “You and me? Best thing I’ve ever done.”

Will pulled at Mike’s shirt and flopped with him onto the bed. It was too small for the both of them, what will Mike’s height already making the bed a little too small for him on his own, but they made it work. Mike unfortunately had to squirm his way out of Will’s arms to turn off the lights but he was quick to return to Will and curl up next to him.

“Have you been thinking about any New Year’s wishes?” Will asked as darkness began to settle in the room.

“Not really. One of my wishes ended up being a Christmas gift so I have nothing else to desire really.”

“You’re talking about me, aren’t you.”

“No, I’m talking about the new Zelda game Dustin bought me.” Mike nudged his boyfriend and then leaned in for a kiss. He missed and hit only the corner of Will’s lips, which made Will laugh.

“I love you,” the smaller boy whispered in a content sigh. “It’s crazy that we can say that now. I don’t have to be afraid of loving you because you love me, too.”

Mike nodded and took a hand to Will’s hair as he brushed his fingers through it. “I was really scared I would lose you so I never said anything. And then El came into our lives.” Mike closed his eyes. “I love her but I was wrong for trying to force her to be with me. I knew it wasn’t working but I still tried. I thought we could work it out.”

“Hey, she forgives you, you know. She also thought it could work it out. She wanted it to work out just as much as you did.”

Mike still felt guilty for it all. For wanting El while loving Will. For trying so hard to ignore where his feelings really lied even though at the end of the day he still imagined waking up in the morning next to Will for reasons he never wanted to explore.

“I hurt her and I know she’s still in pain about it. She can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.”

Will overlayed Mike’s hand with his own. “Heartbreak takes time to get over. You were her first love and letting that go is painful. We should know.”

Mike laughed sarcastically. “Yeah and we failed miserably.”

“I’m glad we did,” Will kissed Mike’s nose. “My point though is that El needs time to heal and learn to be your friend again. She forgives you, trust me. She didn’t want to end things but she knew what would be best when she called it quits.”

Mike closed his eyes and listened to Will’s slow breathing. “Yeah. Do you think she’ll be happy about you being with me?”

“Of course.” Will hummed. “We’ll tell everyone on New Year’s Eve as planned. Only two days away. Get some rest now, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Sleep came easily when his mind managed to stop worrying about his friendship with El. The sleep itself? Mike could barely remember what he dreamt about. Things were hazy and unclear but there was blood and screams. Screams from his friends, from the people he swore loyalty to, from his mom who knew nothing and he hated the fear he had with telling her the truth. It consumed him until he couldn’t breathe, until he couldn’t hear anything but someone shouting in the distance. It was faint against the background of El’s sobbing, of her screeches as she pulled the wriggling slice of the Mind Flayer from her leg. Faint against the screams of Will burning for hours from the inside out, tears streaming down his face as he writhed in agony. Faint against the worries of his mother finding him vomiting in the bathroom one night from crying so hard and taking him to therapy that very next day despite having school.

(And god, how embarrassing it was to miss track meet and come the next day with a doctor’s note because Mike couldn’t get a stupid fucking handle on his runaway thoughts.)

“Mike!”

The boy woke from his terrors with a choked gasp, legs flaying as he struggled to escape from the blankets that suffocated him. There was a hand on his arm and he tried to pull away from it with all the strength he had, which was a lot thanks to his extra curricular studies. Mike tumbled off the bed and the shock of the fall managed to bring him back to reality. Will was hovering over the edge with wide eyes and fright screaming in his posture. Mike blinked his way out of the remains of his nightmare and felt guilt filter to the top of his emotions.

“Will,” he gasped shakily, feeling the wetness of tears drenching his cheeks. “Will, I—I didn’t mean to.”

Will climbed off the end and knelt beside Mike. He took Mike’s face in hand, ever so gentle and soft, and kissed one of the tear streaks his nightmare had drawn on his face. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

Mike couldn’t stop crying. “It’s not—it’s not usually this bad.”

“What isn’t?”

“My dreams.” Mike closed his eyes and Will kissed his eyelids, a featherlight touch on his wet skin. “My nightmares.”

“Is it often?” Mike nodded. “How long?”

“Since the Snowball.” Will tensed and Mike pushed the boy’s hands from his face. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mike, you were crying in your sleep and kicking around and yanked yourself from my hand so hard you catapulted yourself from your bed.” Will took Mike’s face again and pressed their foreheads together. “You can talk to me about these things. You’re not alone.”

“That’s what my therapist keeps saying and yet here I am, still fucking doing this!” Mike motioned to himself on the floor and then collapsed in on himself. “I can’t make it stop, I can’t tell anyone about the truth, I can’t control myself even with my medications and the therapy sessions, it just gets bad again after everything is good.”

“Mike,”

“And sometimes, I don’t sleep and I won’t take my sleep meds so I don’t have to face that shit again, don’t have to see El sacrifice herself or you—I thought you were dead, Will. I thought it was real.” Mike covered Will’s hands with his larger ones. “I thought you were gone forever and I never got to tell you how I feel.”

“Mike, I’m here. I didn’t die. I’m right here with you.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem though. I haven’t actually been tortured or attacked or possessed or anything. I was just there. A witness.” Mike laughed hoarsely. “I stood by and watched so many people die. I was supposed to be a leader, keep the party together, and I split us up being so selfish and I just—I have no right to be having these damn nightmares when you and El have been through so much worse. And I know your mom told me not to discount my experiences but I can’t stop thinking about how pathetic I am to be like this when—,”

Will put a hand over Mike’s mouth and fixed him with a steady glare. “Listen to my words, Michael,” he started sternly, pulling his hand away to continue cupping Mike’s face. “We are all a little fucked in the head thanks to the Upside Down. And yeah, El and I are probably the two most fucked by it all but that doesn’t mean your trauma and experiences are invalid. My mom is right; don’t sell yourself short. You have the right to feel what you do.”

Mike’s lips were pulled into a thin pale line but he nodded and Will continued. “I was on meds too, remember? My mom used to always call ahead and make sure I have them on me whenever we would have a sleepover. It’s okay to need professional medical help. You don’t have to face this alone. You don’t have to control it alone.” Will pressed a kiss to Mike’s lips. “And I know you can’t tell your therapist everything, I know you can’t tell them about the Upside Down or the demogorgon and Mind Flayer, but you can talk to me just as I can talk to my mom or Jonathan or El these days. You’re not alone, okay? I’m right here.”

“Will.”

“Hush, babe, I’m not finished.” Will swept a hand back into Mike’s hair. “You saved me you know. You saved me and El multiple times.” Mike wanted to shake his head but he didn’t want to interrupt Will so he merely pressed his lips fimer together. Will of course noticed that. “I’m serious, Mike; you really saved us. You gave us something to fight for, a future to live for, with you and all our loved ones. You gave us hope and strength. You trusted me when I was the most untrustworthy person in the room. You were strong for all of us when we needed it, Lucas and Dustin, too. You are our leader, our DM, and you carried us through all that shit. Give yourself credit.”

Will pressed his lips to Mike’s temple and climbed to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep okay? Good days come and go like bad days and that’s nothing to be ashamed for. It’s never gonna stop but you can have control. You’re healing, Mike, and that means sometimes the wound is still gonna flare up. But eventually, it’ll scar over. Until then, take it one day at a time.”

Mike nodded and took Will’s hand, letting the smaller boy drag him back to the bed. Will wrapped Mike up in his arms and hugged him tightly. “I love you, understand? I love you no matter what. I’m always here for you on good and bad days.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mike gasped into Will’s arms, burying his face in Will’s borrowed t-shirt. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you, too, Mike.” Will dragged his finger down the bridge of Mike’s nose. “Now, let’s sleep so Dustin won’t be on our asses about taking so long to get him.”

At that, Mike laughed into Will’s chest and allowed himself to relax into his boyfriend’s arms. When he woke, he looked up into loving green eyes and felt for the first time in a while that yeah, he wasn’t alone and things really could get better. Still, when Will pressed him into the mattress with a mixture of kisses and tickles, Mike knew that this couldn’t last. Will didn’t live here anymore. He wouldn’t always be there to console Mike about the terrors of the Upside Down that still haunted him.

Mike needed to fess up and tell him mom the truth.

————

tag list: @vaugency, @lifeinvirtualreality, @princestanley, @lgbtqbyers

if you want to join the tag list for lth, send me a message!

#yams writes #yams answers #byler #byeler #learning to heal #lth #lth fic #otp: palaric

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saruma-aki · 5 years

Text

Well, I would like to say I thought this through before dragging this post back up after having posted it way back when ST2 was new and fresh out of the proverbial womb, but, the harsh truth is, I did not. Honestly, I have been ignoring the existence of this post since its conception because the amount of popularity it garnered was mainly negative (no shock there; this is, after all, tumblr) and I had more important things to stress over than what someone interpreted from a line in a show that will fade into obscurity in a couple of years. However, the most recent reblog caught my eye because someone actually wrote something under it—and not just under someone else’s words, but the original post, which I had not seen in a while.

Obviously, what they said did not make me very happy. Otherwise, what is the actual point of making this post?

Here is the thing, the “tea” or however you want to call it—everything they said is way out of line.

I will be the first, the very first (no one is beating me to that spot) to admit that the original post was just a little bit tone deaf. It did not really discuss the topic or why it is that I felt like I did or Dacre’s own opinion. It was just a couple of screenshots from an article that made me feel better about where I stood on the whole debate—and I wanted to share it. I don’t know why. Maybe to just not feel crazy in the midst of that drama? Who can say? However, I will be the first to say that the post is wholly inadequate in explaining anything of note.

I was not exactly surprised when people took to it with raised hackles, even if I really never conceived it would reach close to five hundred notes by the time I got the guts to address it again (and I know that five hundred, 5-0-0, doesn’t really seem like a lot, but considering that I thought maybe one person would pay attention to it, it’s basically the equivalent of a million in my eyes).

But, you know what? I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m slowly dying. Let’s finally addres this. Because this reblog, this most recent reblog, really bothered me. And I know, trust me when I say I know, that it seems simple and of no need for concern, and I’m sure the few people who are actually bothering to read through this are thinking, “Why on earth did they not just talk to this person instead of making a long post?” But, here’s the thing with this whole shebang: I’m tired, and this person isn’t alone in their opinion. What made this one stand out is how they phrased their belief.

I’ve had to listen to people gripe about how this post “proves there’s no such thing as POC solidarity”, and they’re absolutely right because Native American woman are being slaughtered and raped and abused every day, and Native Americans are represented less that one percent of the time (<1%) ) in film and media (and the few, very rare, times they are it is with an abundance of racism and stereotypes piled onto them), and yet I don’t see black people, with their sixteen percent (16%) representation score raising much of a fuss. (This is not a call out or something. I get it. Get your own representation and rights before helping out anyone else. It makes sense, in a way—I’m not judging. But maybe don’t come at people with that when you’re part of the issue.) I have had to listen to people assume my race, ethnicity, political leaning because of this post, and, honestly, I’m just a wee bit tired of it.

I have four things I really want to say with this post, in response to everyone, but especially in response to this one reblog:

1) I am a proud person of color. I am a proud descendant of African slaves. I am a proud descendant of Taino natives. I am a proud member of the Latino community. I am a proud non-white individual who experiences racism on a daily basis.

I experience racism meant for black people. I experience racism meant for Latinos. I experience xenophobia meant for Middle Easterners and Asians. I experience racism meant for Middle Easterners. I experience racism meant for Indians. I experience Islamophobia meant for Muslims. I have been told they should “build a wall” to keep me out. I have been told that the KKK should pay me a visit. I have been called a terrorist. I have had people dance in crude imitations of Indian traditional dance to my face while laughing. I have experienced all of this and more.

I have been a victim of racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, etc., from both POCs and white people, straight and gays, natives and immigrants.

Do not presume to know my race and my experiences just because my opinion does not coincide with yours. Quite frankly, don’t do that to anyone. You do not know anyone’s life story, especially over the Internet. Do not assume otherwise. Do not delude yourself into a false confidence and assurance of your own moral superiority when you know nothing of the people you are attacking. It is easy to hide behind a screen, and I am not here to tell you to not talk about what you wish and what you can and cannot talk about and direct at people. I merely suggest you stick to the information readily accessible, not mere assumptions based on your own prejudices. It reveals more about you than the person you are belittling.

2) Billy never saw Max and Dustin together like he did Max and Lucas. Billy never saw Dustin upsetting Max like he did Lucas. Billy never sees Max and Dustin in any capacity like he does Max and Lucas.

This is not a justification. This is not an excuse. This is a mere statement of fact. Whether or not you believe Billy is racist or abusive or whatever, the bottom line is the same. Billy doesn’t witness Max with Dustin like he does Lucas. Honestly, I’m fairly certain Billy never even sees Dustin and Max together at all. Think Billy is racist or don’t, but it doesn’t change this very basic fact. It’s not a situation of “why didn’t he” when every iteration can be debunked by simply understanding that this wasn’t information he was privy to ever. “Why didn’t he?” Because he didn’t know.

3) I don’t take the word of the Duffers on anything. Let’s make that perfectly clear. And this is not some personal dislike or something. This is born from experience. I have sat in the writer’s chair; I have sat in the director’s chair; I have sat in the actor’s chair. You know what I have learned? The writer provides the skeleton, the director gives it movement, the actor gives it life. The job of an actor is solely to understand the character. That, ladies and gentlemen and the general populace, is the secret of acting.

What the writers provide is just the guidelines for the actor. The understanding the actor develops can evolve into a different interpretation than the writer or director had, and it has the potential to be more profound.

The other two reasons I don’t take the word of the Duffers on this is: A) had it not been for Dacre, the Duffers would have been subject to critique on lazy writing moreso than they are already because Billy’s depth and complexity, especially the jarring scene we all remember, came from Dacre—Dacre wanted a villain with a reason if he was going to play Billy and he pushed for it (which says a lot about him and how skilled of an actor he is—understanding that experience and trauma shapes us and forms us into what we are and that we are not static beings, so there should be no such thing as a static character) and that makes Dacre’s opinion a lot heftier than the Duffers’ already——B) Dacre originally did think Billy was racist. Isn’t that a kicker? Dacre remarks in interviews that when he read the script at first, he thought, “Oh, no, gosh, he’s racist on top of all of this?” And he stayed with that mentality for a bit. It was only as he delved deeper into the character and understood Billy more as a person instead of the two dimensional villain he’s set up as that he changed his mind and came to the conclusion that he doesn’t think Billy’s racist.

He put in the work.

The Duffers went in with a throwaway line and labeled the character as racist. They wanted a human villain, someone for people to hate, someone to pit against our heroes, against Steve. They wanted to make him awful and static and to have him do what Steve’s character couldn’t and stay the asshole the audience could hate.

Dacre didn’t fall prey to that mentality. He searched for the human in the label “human villain” that the Duffers wanted and found a much more complex character than the Duffers even considered. Because of this, Dacre’s opinion carries far more weight than the Duffer Brothers’.

And, ultimately, most importantly—the main reason I wanted to make this post, to defend the original post this is born from even though I’ve stated my stance on this issue in a separate post in much clearer terms—the real reason I made the original post to begin with even if I never talked about it:

4) People who immediately assume racism instead of ignorance, racist instead of ignorant, are part of the problem, not the solution.

This really bears no explanation. You cannot change what you believe is irreversible. You cannot educate what you believe is closed off. You cannot help that which you’ve condemned.

I do my utmost to live my life by this. Ignorance before condemnation, always, always, always. The majority of the time it is a lack of education on the subject and a lack of personal experience that leads to such grave misunderstandings. Give a person the chance to learn and to be taught and to redeem themselves, and most of them will. It takes time and patience and a boatload of energy and perseverance, but you get there through understanding and the willingness to help out—by giving them the chance everyone else is denying them.

You cannot help those which you’ve condemned. In life and in fiction, until proven repeatedly over and over again when intervention is applied, I like to adopt the philosophy that people are ignorant before they are racist, before they are a sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, etc., etc.

I’m not saying it’s a popular philosophy (because it’s not), and I’m not saying it’s right (because maybe it isn’t), but it’s my philosophy. And knowing where Billy comes from, what he’s been through, who his father is, what his home life is like, I elect to believe in my philosophy and in my understanding of the human mind, and I don’t think he’s racist. I can definitely see how he might be construed as such, and I don’t belittle those who see it that way, but I stand by my original observation (however ineloquently stated) that I, in my own personal opinion, don’t believe Billy is racist.

And, ultimately, I just want people to accept that. I’m not denying the possibility. I’m not uninformed. I’m not some white, cisgender, hesterosexual man sitting behind his computer screen agreeing with a white actor because it makes me feel more comfortable in myself and my own experiences. I am a proud POC, a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community, a writer, an actor, a director, and a human being. I see where you all are coming from—I hear you; I read what you write. I get it. But can you get me? Can you understand where I am coming from? Can you stop with the misinformation and the moral superiority complex? Life is too short to live like this. I know that it’s Tumblr. I know being superior is the bread and butter of this site. But, honestly, guys, let me get cheesy for a second, let me get real, because you guys clearly need to hear this:

Be willing to understand and to learn. You will get so much further in life. You cannot help that which you’ve condemned, guys. And you really can’t. You can’t change what you believe is irreversible. You can’t teach that which you believe is unwilling to learn. Give people a chance, and they might just surprise you.

Gosh, I hope this cleared some things. I doubt many of you made it to the end if you even got past the beginning, but I sure feel better after writing this. Take care. Bless. I’ll see you on the other side of the war.

#stranger things 2 #billy hargrove #in defense of billy hargrove #in defense of myself #dayummmm never thought i’d end up here #tumblr will forever and always need to chill #chill tumblr chill #mullet wearing asshole #harringrove #i am here to clear the air #that really wasnt muggy to begin with #but some people got confused real fast #so here we go

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jaehotbuns · 5 years

Text

come back (AM 01:27)

rating: pg - 13

word count: 6,053

characters: ten x you x lucas

genre: magical realism? angst!

preview // “Is there anything I can do to get my life back?” You were grasping at straws at this point, as if you could strike a deal with the grim reaper. You were almost certain that this question was posed 99.9% of the times he had to collect a soul and take them into the other life. He opened his mouth to answer before looking down and playing with his fingers. You were surprised at how that question flustered him when he was composed all this time. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence and his pondering he finally said, “yes.”

“Fucking shit,” you cursed under your breath as you swerved to avoid being brushed against by a hoard of businessmen and women carrying briefcases that weighed more than dumbbells. It seemed as though you were the only one dressed casually and not in a pristinely steam-pressed suit as you were walking in the opposite direction of the Shibuya intersection.

You let a sigh of relief as you finished crossing the bustling streets and into a narrow alleyway, still being able to see the billboards of fast fashion brand advertisements and the advertisements of rising idols and actors of East Asia. Your eyes shot down to your phone as it chirped; indicating a new text message. “Found your target?”

You shook your head and called Ten. He picked up almost immediately after you pressed dial. “Stop acting as if I’m some kind of hit-man, and no, I haven’t found him yet. ‘Go to Shibuya 109 and look at the billboards’ is not a very good hint.’”

He sighed, you could almost audibly hear him roll his eyes dramatically at you. “I don’t need to tell you the specifics, you always get that feeling when you see someone that is in the same limbo as you.” His usual snarky and sarcastic tone turned soft uncharacteristically, taking you aback, “one more down to go. You know, when you’re gone I’m going to miss my little goon.”

“You know, you almost sounded sweet for a second.” You looked back at the flashing displays on the tall silver buildings, waiting to feel the sensation of another wandering soul. A feeling of nostalgia formed a knot in your throat, “but I’ll miss you too.”

Ten chuckled over the phone, “it’s almost like it was just yesterday when you died.”

Pit. Pat. Pat. Pat.

The soft sounds of rain bouncing off of your window sill and the cool breeze of wind and dew were lulling you back into sleep after being woken up by a bolt of lightning. But when you felt a presence of someone else in the room, pulling your soft freshly washed blanket over your face didn’t give a sense of relief.

You turned from your side onto your back and jolted upright when you saw a man dressed in all black sitting on a chair faced directly at the front of your bed, arms crossed over his chest while tapping his foot. He was waiting for you.

But you noticed that when you had pushed yourself upright and scooted back into your bed frame, it didn’t feel like your body. You felt translucent. You knew it wasn’t a dream but this wasn’t right to be reality either. “W-Who are you?” You stuttered as his cat-like eyes stared into yours.

“The grim reaper, if you will,” he said speaking with his hands elegantly almost as if they were dancing with his words. “But I’d rather go by Ten,” he smiled, certainly far too nonchalant for the man that was supposed to be death personified.

“S-So you’re here to take me then?” You choked up, not being able to comprehend your current circumstances. No. You were able to understand them, you knew what was going to happen but you couldn’t seem to come to terms with it. You recalled what had happened before you went to bed.

It was a regular day for you, eerily starting and ending the day in your usual routine with nothing out of the ordinary. Ten cocked his head to the side in satisfaction and nodded, “I’m glad you’re taking this… Better than the others.” He stood up and walked over to the side of your bed, holding your hand gently. You didn’t have the energy to knock his cold and bony hands after from yours.

You did nothing wrong, and you had so much to look forward to in life. It wasn’t fair. Once that realization that you were never to see your friends and family or pursue your career or even live to the fullest hit you, you doubled over in tears and broken sobs, making Ten jolt back momentarily. The stream of salty and hot tears refused to stop as they were running through the crevices of your hand that you buried your face into.

You felt Ten’s hand hesitantly hover over your back after finally patting your back gently, your cries becoming louder. It wasn’t helping that this man who was simply doing his job was being so compassionate towards you, you wanted this empathy living not dead. He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and held your head into his chest, his free hand stroking your head. It was ironic that you had never experienced a near death experience before but felt a sense of familiarity in his arms.

After a few minutes, you ran out of the energy to cry any further. Crying was not going to solve this problem so you sat yourself up and wiped your wet and hot face with the back of your hands, trying your best to compose yourself after Ten had already seen you breakdown in front of him. “Can I ask you a question?” You tried to come across as confident but it barely came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What is it?” He tried to look into your glossy eyes but you failed to meet his piercing gaze.

“Is there anything I can do to get my life back?” You were grasping at straws at this point, as if you could strike a deal with the grim reaper. You were almost certain that this question was posed 99.9% of the times he had to collect a soul and take them into the other life.

He opened his mouth to answer before looking down and playing with his fingers. You were surprised at how that question flustered him when he was composed all this time. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence and his pondering he finally said, “yes.”

You placed your hands hopefully over his, “what is it? I’ll do anything.”

“There are a few souls out there that have… Escaped under my surveillance and I need them back before their death sentence runs out. There are 6 people on the list, if you’re able to deliver them to the afterlife before 1 year runs out, you’ll get your life back.”

“A death has a time limit?” You thought about it for a brief second, if you were able to escape from this guy you could hide until your death is nulled.

“Don’t think about it,” he chucked, already being experience with a million of desperate souls trying to cling to life. “These people escape and when they’re caught they’re not just brought back to and then when they die they go to heaven. Since they refused death once, they’ll be terminated forever. But if you help me instead of escaping, you’ll live your life and then be delivered as usual.”

Alright, escaping was not worth it. You held your hand out and smiled now with a mind full of hope, “deal.”

He shook your hand and returned the same smile, “good luck.”

When you finally snapped back to reality your heart stopped as you looked onto the screen and felt the gut feeling of who your last target was, with only 3 months at hand you had to capture him to be voided into nothing. Wong Yukhei.

“You’re telling me one of Asia’s hottest celebrities is the last person on my list? So it’s my life or a top idol’s?” You tried to quietly scream into your phone.

“It’s not your life over his, he chose to take the risk of escaping and now you’re just giving him his just desserts.”

“Huh,” you retorted sarcastically. “That does make me feel better, thanks.”

“No problem,” he laughed. “You have a meeting to be his contract worker for 3 months for his solo activities in Japan, and don’t worry I added a little Japanese earpiece translator in your hotel room just in case if you didn’t know any.” You were relieved, you didn’t know a lick of Japanese. “Good luck, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he hang up.

You slid your phone into your back pocket and made your way over to the grandest hotel that you’ve ever stayed at. Gold and white polished floors sparkled under the floor’s shiny wax, large chandeliers ranging in sizes hung over the tall walls, and the sounds of multiple languages muddled together as you walked through the lobby and into your room.

Almost instantly, you placed the language translator into your ear and turned it on. Like magic, it merged into your ear and dissolved. Your head whipped towards the television and the Japanese news was translated fluently into English instantaneously. You introduced yourself but thought as if you were speaking in Japanese and lough and behold your language proficiency was immaculate.

As always, your room was already unpacked and equipped with everything you needed from a set of work wear clothes to party dresses the occasion, your favourite pairs of silk and cotton pyjamas, and even your favourite rose toiletries that Ten knew you couldn’t live without. You didn’t know if he was watching you or not but you smiled and murmured, “what would I do without you Ten?”

You looked down at your watch and had 30 minutes until you were to be expected at Yukhei’s penthouse for his meeting. Since you were contracted as a manager after all you decided to look business casual to not over or downplay your image. When you finished putting on a pair of jeans and white button up shirt as well as a quick application of natural makeup, you made your way up to his expensive room.

After 3 knocks, he opened the door and swung it back gesturing for you to come inside. You were surprised he wasn’t accompanied by any other staff from his company as this was the first time both of you had met and neither of you had each other’s trust. He walked in front of you after locking the door and pulled out a chair for you in front of a pool on the terrace. A small yellow beach umbrella had barely covered the both of you with a small circular table in between.

“Let’s get introductions out of the way,” he beamed brightly extending his large hand out to your across the table. “Wong Yukhei, but I’d prefer to go by Lucas.” You tried to suppress a chuckle, it reminded you of Ten’s infamous line of “grim reaper but I prefer Ten.”

You said your name and shook his hand lightly before resting your hands over your crossed legs.

“Okay, manager, what’s the plan for today?” He grinned leaning his elbows on the edge of the table so that he had a closer look at you. You were definitely taken aback at how handsome he was but more surprised about how unprofessional this meeting was. Although you were glad you didn’t need to suck up to him but it was odd at how no one informed him of anything.

“Um, your staff should have told you about your fan meeting at the end of your stay, a CF you have in a week, and many variety shows across the second month as well as a few performances here and there. Did your company not send them perhaps?”

Lucas shook his head proudly, “I prefer to deal with these things myself. Of course I need people around to help but I keep to myself believe it or not.” Oh I believe it, you thought, you’re probably on the run and scared of being caught for a reason.

You looked down at your purse and pulled out a notebook of Lucas’ schedule that you were supposed to memorize in order for your manager act to be believable but since he had no staff or any idea of what he was supposed to do, you decided to just how it to him to keep him on track. He pulled his phone out to start making alarms and dates on his calendar as you watched awkwardly from your seat. “Say, I have no schedule today right?” You nodded. “How about we go out manager?”

“I-uh-huh?” You blurted out at his proposition. You were able to suppress your urges to completely freak out that you were to be the manager of one of your favourite idols but this was nearly too much to handle. Why would he ask his manager out on a date, never mind one that he had met for less than 30 minutes?

“I want you to run some errands for me!” He laughed at your surprised expression which made heat rise from up to neck to your cheeks and forehead in embarrassment. You got your hopes up for no reason and in the process you had thought that he asked you on a date. If you weren’t already dead you would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

And before you knew it he was dragging you from store to store by your hand so that you wouldn’t be separated from the claustrophobic crowds on the busy streets. For the past 2 hours, he had been pulling you in and out of shops browsing at women’s clothing and then deciding something wasn’t right and repeating the process all over again. “Why are we looking at women’s clothing?” You asked; you would have guessed he was going to buy you something but you weren’t going to be overconfident again like when you thought he was inviting you on a date.

“My sister wanted me to buy her an outfit from Japan from the last time she came here!” He shouted across the waves of people, continuing to drag you as the sun was starting to set. “She forgot the size so I brought you along since you’re the first staff that seemed around her size.”

“That doesn’t explain why we’re going into random stores!” You huffed back, not used to running so much especially in your uncomfortable and stiff clothing.

He finally stopped into a small residential street and let go of your damp hands and walked at your side. Both of your breathing was much more audible as it echoed in the empty neighbourhood but yours was noticeably more prominent as you were at the athletic capacity of a goldfish compared to him. “Funny story, I actually forgot the store name and location.”

You squinted in disbelief at him. “You’ve been taking us to chain stores of the same name of course you’re not going to find it.” You couldn’t believe that you didn’t ask him this question sooner so that you could preserve your time and energy.

But luck turns out to beat logic as he started to pull you towards a small shop which was oddly located between two houses and a takoyaki stand. Its warm and elderly owner greeted the both of you as you entered which rang the small brass welcome bell at the front of the door. “This is the place!” Lucas high-fived you with both hands as you were dumbfounded at his dumb luck but nevertheless you were happy to have finally be done with this wild goose chase.

Once he found the outfit his sister had her eyes on, he gave you a few sizes to try on in the dressing room. When you were finished, you walked out and handed him the one that fit you more comfortably before hooking the rest on their appropriate racks. “Is that all for today?” You asked, praying in your head that you could rest your tired legs in your fancy hotel room.

“I need to repay you for your help! You only get paid when I’m on schedule, right?” You did, but you didn’t care about money, you really just wanted to go home. You shook your head and tried to smile but failed and turned into a grimace. “Don’t be silly.”

You didn’t want to know how could he repay you. Would it mean going on a ferry ride? An amusement park? A swim in the river? From having him drag you from place to place, you didn’t want to find out what body intensive activity he had in mind for you.

He smiled gently at you this time, “you’re scared of me having you run again huh?” He laughed and shook his head lightly before separating articles of clothing apart with his fingers on nearby racks. You were embarrassed at how right he was. He pulled out a red chiffon romper and held it up to your neck and nodded. “A gift. Go try it on.”

You held the fabric and looked at the hefty price tag; if you didn’t have Ten’s budget to finish your mission it would’ve taken you two week to save up to afford this dress when you were alive. “I can’t accept this-”

“C’mon, if you don’t like it we can just go back to the hotel,” he pressed the fabric against your chest and placed his hands on your shoulder to turn you around and into the dressing room. Before you could object again, he took the velvet fabric of the dressing room curtain and pulled it close. You signed when you heard his footsteps clank away from you.

The dress was undeniably beautiful and it looked even more stunning when you put it on. The white accents of your earrings made the vibrant colour of the dress pop even more. “Done?” Lucas called out. You nervously pulled away at the curtain to reveal Lucas’ tall frame leaning against a pillar with his arms folded against his chest, waiting for you. He grinned, satisfied with the beauty standing in front of him. “You like it don’t you?”

“But-”

He stood up from his slouch and walked over so that he was behind you. He pulled your hair that was flowing across your back so that it was now resting on one side of your shoulder. You shuddered at the touch of his rough fingers that brushed against your neck as he ripped off the tag. “Get dressed, I’m starving.” He pulled the curtain once more and you were left alone with a fluttering heart.

After getting changed, he took the dress from your hands and placed it in the bag. You reached out to take the bags to carry for him but he swatted your reaching hands away, “you’re my manager not my servant.”

At first you had thought he was a clueless goof and an easy target to bring to Ten but the more you spent time with him you wondered that if by 3 months time you’d want to let him be removed from this world forever. You tried to push your developing feelings away, as if you’d save him then you’d be the one to die.

After a long walk in the sunset, he stopped at your floor and walked you to the door. When you tried to take the the bag from his hands Lucas looked at you with his head cocked to the side in thought. “What is it?” You asked before placing your hand on the doorknob.

He placed his palm on your fingers to stop you from turning it, “how about we grab some room service at my place and get my wardrobe ready for the CF I have for next week?” You were surprised that he was able to remember his schedule so quickly.

Food and the company of one of your favourite stars would have been your dream on regular circumstances but you knew that if you went that you would be more attached to him. Before you could make an excuse like you weren’t hungry, your stomach decided to rumble and growl which was echoed by the empty and large hallway. You looked down in humiliation.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas chuckled before grasping your hand to guide you back to the elevator before you saw another familiar hand remove his from yours.

“We actually had dinner plans.” Your eyes moved from your hands to the face of the voice to reveal Ten. You nearly jumped back in surprise as he’s never revealed his face to one of his lost subjects before and even if he did that meant he would have to capture them.

Lucas also recognized Ten and backed up immediately but straightened his posture and held his chin up, probably composing himself because he thought you didn’t know about his or Ten’s true nature. “My bad.” He held his hands up in defense and smiled wryly at Ten who returned the same facial expression. “I’ll see you tomorrow manager.” He gave you a salute before walking to the elevator. It seemed like he tried to put up a brave front since you were there but you could tell that he was beyond shaken.

Once you and Ten saw the elevator close, you basically knocked your door down and slammed it shut behind you after pulling Ten in. “Why did you show up in front of in and if you did decide to why did you not capture him?!” Ten could never catch the escapees because they knew his face and avoided it like the plague but once Lucas knew you were acquainted with him you knew it was going to be ten times harder.

Ten placed his hands on your shoulders and lowered his head so that your eyes were level with his, “hey, I just thought you were in a bad situation. And I can only catch one escapee every 2 months remember? Since he’s our last, I can only do it in our 10-12 month period but you caught the last one quick.” You couldn’t deny that you were in a bad situation but not like how Ten thought. You knew Ten would always be there if anyone was to hurt you but you were more in danger of falling for Lucas than him hurting you but you couldn’t let Ten know that.

He could tell that you were shaken so he hugged you as he always did which made you relax every time; your head buried in his chest, his arms swung over your shoulder and the other stroking your head. He pulled back slightly, “let’s get dinner. Or else the next roar will be heard by all of Asia.” You slapped him and pulled away but all he did was laugh and ruffle your hair lovingly.

When you were seated at your table at an expensive Western restaurant located at a cozy unknown district away from the city streets, Ten placed his chin on the palm of his hand which was propped up by his elbow and cushioned by the white linen tablecloth underneath. He eyed you up and down, admiring the new dress that you were gifted by Lucas. “I can’t say I quite like the fellow for the predicament he’s put me in but I do admit he has nice style. Or maybe you just look good in everything.”

To save you from bashfulness, you thanked the waiter when they brought out your scallop appetizers. You placed your napkin on your lap and waited for Ten to take the first bite before you picked up the cutlery to have a taste. Both of you smiled in silent agreement of how good the food was.

As both of you polished off the first course and waited for the main entree, you decided to catch up with Ten as you haven’t seen him in a month. You never asked if he liked his job but you knew that such a touchy subject would be hard on anyone considering the volume of people he had to escort. “So, what’s going to happen to us when I clean up your mistakes?”

Ten laughed at your snarky comment but seemed uneasy about the subject as you’ve grown close almost too close with each other over the span of 9 months. “The afterlife realm with grant you your life back as well as one wish for your services. It’s your choice what to do with it. As for me, you’ll forget everything and I’ll return back to my job.” He swirled his wine glass from the stem and took a long sip, waiting for you to say something.

“So that means I can wish to keep talking to you and to remember everything?” You eyes glittered under the pearly lights with optimism.

“Why would you waste your wish on me, dummy?” He looked down and shook his head but you could see that his tense shoulders relax and a suppressed smile that he was trying to hide. “But yes, that wish would be acceptable.”

“Yes!” You clapped, startling your waiter who brought out your order of steak frites and Ten’s order of honey salmon. “Thank you,” you said laughing shyly before they nodded and returned to the kitchen.

Ten admired your proposal but he couldn’t get the feeling of Lucas out of his mind, “what about Lucas? What if he steals your heart, hm? I think he likes you.” He cut gingerly into his salmon and took a bite as you finished your mouthful of fried potatoes to reply.

“I’m not throwing my life away for some dude! Anyways, why would a top star like me?” You happily continued to eat your steak and satisfy your empty stomach, not trying to think about what could go wrong if Lucas really did have feelings for you.

“If he really didn’t like you he would be calling SM to hire a new manager because her dinner date is the grim reaper that’s after him,” he said almost too seriously. “But instead, he’s having a drink of wine in his pool right now pondering about what to do. Now, if he didn’t have you why would he not run away?”

You brushed off his concerns and urged him to stuff his mouth so that he couldn’t worry anymore, “I only met him once! Now, eat up before your food gets cold.”

After a long conversation and delicious dinner, both of you shared a tub of ice cream at your hotel room instead of splurging on an $80 dollar serving of gelato topped with a graham cracker and mint leaf. “Ugh I’m so full,” you exclaimed before plopping down on your bed.

Ten finished the remainder of the ice cream and threw the tub into the trash before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wonder how good of a manager you’ll be tomorrow.”

“I better be a good one or else he’ll run away,” you murmured into your pillow and started to cozy up for a good night’s rest for a tightly packed day. “But you know Ten, I wonder why you chose me to do your soul catching for you… I mean, isn’t that for the other reapers to do?”

He was silent for a second before pulling up your covers up to your back. “I’ll tell you eventually.” If you weren’t completely depleted of energy, you would’ve urged him to tell you but you were getting lulled into sleep. Before you finally succumbed to unconsciousness you felt soft lips press against your forehead, “good night.”

You stand in front of you calendar and look at the large red circles that you had drawn 1 year ago signifying the day that you were to bring your last escapee to Ten so that you could finally reverse time and go back to your regular life. Two more days until you could see your family and friends again. Thoughts of freedom again make the corners of your eyes wet with tears but you sniffed and started to get ready for your farewell party as Lucas’ manager.

For the past three months, you really wished that this had never happened. You were never attached to the other running souls as you were with Lucas. Compared to him, they failed to come to terms with closure when they were all in their 70’s or 60’s but Lucas had so much promise and love for life you wondered what his cause of death was or why he would run away and face hell rather than heaven.

If you were Lucas’ manager as a career you would have been genuinely happy and most days you would look at the sidelines and wished that things were different. You were going to miss the lovely staff that accepted you and welcomed you with open arms, you were going to miss the outings you had and the film crew who would push you in front of the camera to do challenges for variety shows, and you were going to miss Lucas.

Even if he refused to call you by your name and always called you “manager,” even if he made you watch reruns of his episodes of Running Man while eating takeout, even if he constantly invited you to the river at night so that he could put you in a headlock until you promised to buy him beer and chicken because he made you happy. You were going to miss when he’d buy oil diffusers in your room whenever you felt stressed and bought your favourite scents to make sure you were happy, when he’d stand up for you and take your side when another idol yelled at you for making a mistake, and for making you laugh when you cried knowing that you were going to be the one to take him.

Before a frown could form on your face, you shook your head as if it was going to rid of the thoughts. You turned on your heel quickly to spritz a floral perfume on to your neck to leave to a nearby BBQ grill house.

The cool night breeze blew your hair in many directions, easing your nerves as you enjoyed the short walk to the restaurant. As soon as you pulled the curtain that served as a door to the entrance, you were greeted by loud clapping and cheering from all of the staff that were already seated at a long table with accompanying pillows for seats. You beamed as you made yourself over to an empty seat next to Lucas.

When all of the food preparation and greetings were out of the way, Lucas stood up with a shot glass filled to the brim of sake and held it up for a toast. “For our lovely manager who for only for 3 months, pushed her way into our hearts and gave us not only ease in our work but happiness as well. We will miss you but never forget what you have done for us.” A smattering of ‘hurrays!’ rang across the room before everyone emptied their shot glasses. You felt the burning liquor fill your throat and warm up the contents of your stomach.

After 2 hours of eating, celebration, conversation, and goodbyes; Lucas invited you for a last walk before what he thinks is your goodbye but is his as well. The route he took you on was unfamiliar, it wasn’t to the usual river and park you’d pass by but to a traditional looking Japanese house. He led you inside and up onto the rooftop, you felt nervous to be sitting on the old tile bricks but his warm hands comforted you.

Both of you looked up at the stars that were bright in the night sky due to the lack of city lights. With a sense of melancholy Lucas looked at you and asked, “have you ever realized that time passes so quickly?”

“Only recently,” you smiled with a little bit of sadness evident.

He nodded, “me too.” Both of you were leaning back with your arms supporting you when suddenly you felt in hand on top of yours. “I was so happy to finally live my dreams until one day I felt like someone was there to take it away from me.” You gulped nervously but let him continue his train of thought. “And then I almost died one day…”

“Oh Lucas,” you whispered, enveloping your hands in his. You wanted to tell him that you knew everything and to comfort him, but you couldn’t.

“I escaped death,” he chuckled and you knew that he was talking about Ten. “But after a while I wondered if I made the right thing. I wasn’t getting any better and I knew if I went back then heaven would still be waiting for me… But when I met you, you gave me reason again and by then it was too late to go back.” So he would’ve gone back to Ten if you had never been there.

You noticed that you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply when he looked forward at you. “Stay with me. Please.” His eyes were glossy with tears. Your fingers wiped the corners of his eyes so that they wouldn’t spill down on his cheeks. His large hands cupped your face before his lips pressed against yours.

You didn’t know how to answer him so he walked you home with his hand in yours, swinging back and forth relieved that he was able to confess his feelings. “Promise me that you’ll be here tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” you smiled. Whether it be for me to die or for you.

Lucas smiled and gave you a peck on the cheek before walking to the elevator and turning around to give you a wave before it closed.

After sitting with an overbearing feeling of numbness for what felt like forever, you saw a text from Ten telling you to come to his house immediately. You took a cab there and dragged your feet to the front steps where he had already been at the door waiting for you. Both of you sat the stools in front of his kitchen counter after he closed the door and prepared a couple of drinks. “I know you’re second guessing your decision.”

You felt so ashamed of yourself; you worked so hard for one year to capture 5 people but one could change your mind so easily. “What would happen if I chose to save Lucas and not capture him?”

Ten smiled bitterly, “I would die.”

Your stomach dropped, “I know you want me to not pick Lucas but you can’t be serious-”

“It’s not that,” Ten said swirling the contents of his cup like he usually does when he’s nervous. “You’re given 3 chances to make mistakes in the afterlife. I already made 2 and my third would be letting a subject escape death.”

You couldn’t believe it, you would have been much more careful about not getting too close to Lucas if you had known that Ten’s life was on the line. “Why didn’t you tell me! What were the two mistakes?”

“You’ve always wondered why I picked you to do the soul catching right? Well I wasn’t supposed to.” Before you could say or ask anything, he continued to speak. “Making mistakes like having souls escape isn’t uncommon but what I did was have a human fix my errors instead of apprentices or other reapers like I was supposed to. That was my first mistake.”

“What about the second one?” You turned your stool so that you were facing him, you gripped his hand so tightly to keep yourself from shaking that you didn’t even realize that your nails were digging half moons into his soft skin.

“Falling in love with a human,” he removed your hands from his and leaned in to give you a quick yet sweet kiss but pulled away in case your feelings were for Lucas and not him. “I don’t want to make you feel bad for me. I chose to do this for you so don’t think this is your fault. You can sleep here tonight and decide what to do tomorrow, and don’t worry I’ll find another place to stay so I don’t sway you.”

Before you could reach out and grab him, he had already disappeared into thin air causing you to collapse on your knees and burst into tears.

You knew that once you woke up, you would have to choose who would have to die.

Ten. Lucas. Or yourself.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #nct ten scenarios #nct ten imagines #nct lucas scenarios #nct lucas imagines #ten scenarios #lucas scenarios #nct u #nct wayv #nct wayv scenarios #kpop #nct ten #nct lucas #wong yukhei

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bald-tales · 5 years

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Witness Protection at the Bears Den - part 10 to 15

part 10 It was still pretty quiet in the Bar next door to the Barbers shop. It had just gone past 8.00pm and Bart was washing up some glasses when a huge guy walked in, taking up the whole door frame. Bart had never seen him before, but he could certainly fit in at this bar. He obviously had been spending way too much time in the gym. Although he was wearing a dark suit, it was obvious that muscle, not fat, was beneath it. He had a dangerous look, and something told Bart he wasn’t after a drink. “What can I get you?” asked Bart, putting his glass drying aside. “Just some information,” the stranger said. He produced a photograph, “you seen this guy around here?” Bart felt his adrenaline start to rise. The photo looked like the kid next-door. Yes it was him alright. “Can’t say I have,” replied Bart – trying to hide his nervousness. “He doesn’t look the sort to come in here,” Bart tried to suggest. “Friend of mine said he may come in here. I’d be grateful if you’d give me a call if you do see him.” The beefcake handed over a business card – Roberto Alverez it read. “His parents are worried sick about him; concerned he may have fallen in with the wrong crowd.” He tried to smile. “Yeah! Ah sure, if I see him, I’ll give you a call,” Bart lied. “You do that.” And with that Alverez left the bar. Bart took a deep breath, then picked up the phone….he had to warn Ken – and fast! “Shit! That was Bart. Reckons his had a visitor looking for Bret. How did they find out where to look so quickly?” said Ken as he hung up the phone. “Well it’s pretty obvious there is a leak at my end,” replied a shocked Dan. He went to the window and carefully peered between the closed blinds. He couldn’t see anything. “What did he look like?” “Bart said he was a big muscle-bound goon, as bald as we are. Gave him a name – Roberto Alverez.” Replied Ken. At that moment, the bound and gagged Bret started to moan. He had a look of horror on his face. “I think Bret knows this guy,” said Ken. “Maybe we should hear what his got to say.” Ken took the huge ball gag from Bret’s gaping mouth. As soon as it was loose, Bret started to babble; ‘you can’t let him find me!’ “Ah! There he is!” said Dan, still watching out the window. “Just came out of the Laundry on the corner. Mean-looking mother…. Getting into a dark coloured Ford. Guess his leaving- for the moment anyway.” “So Bret, you see why this work on you has to be done. They will find you eventually – we have to make sure they don’t know it’s you when that happens.” Ken said calmly. “Alright! Your right. I know what these guys are capable of…..are you sure if I let you do this to me, I’ll be safe – for good?” asked Bret, obviously shaken, knowing he had no other options now. “Trust me. Already your on the way to looking like someone who fits in at the Bears Den.” Ken said, pointing at the mirror that Bret was facing. Bret’s mouth dropped; he hadn’t noticed the changes in his body. It must be what ever their pumping into him. He had noticed the restraints had been tightening, but now he saw why. His stomach was no longer flat… in fact, all his life he never been able to put on any weight – now he was blowing up big time. He had a round gut forming under his chest restraint, and he felt like his shirt was shrinking. As he went up he noticed his neck had thickened, and through the beard that had steadily been growing on his face, he could see his face had taken on a bloated look. “What the fuck?”Said Bret. “That’s not me – no way this can happen so quick. And the beard! I’ve never been able to grow anything more than a few chin whiskers…..this is weird!” The added chemicals designed to make Bret more co-operative, were working, Ken thought to himself. They weren’t as powerful mind controllers as Ken had used on Lucas or Jerry – he wanted Bret to see his transformation to completion; it might be more fun! Ken spoke first, “Now see what’s possible? This is the best way to throw those guy’s off the scent. Besides, at least you’re starting to look more of a man than a kid.” Something inside Bret agreed with Ken. He’d always hated looking so young for his age. “And this way, you can have Ken change anything you want. Plastic surgery is pretty permanent and definitely not as effective.” Added Dan. “Now listen Ken. I think it’s safe to leave you and Bret for now; I’d better try and find whose the spy, before we have any more trouble. I’ll be back a little latter – hopefully with some answers!” “Sure Dan! Bret’s fine now, aren’t you boy?” Ken replied. “I think we can get rid of the restraints – his going to be enjoying this from now on I think. Part 11 Dan was back at his desk - it was just coming up to 10pm and the offices in his building were quiet. Dan was going through the personnel records, something his new promotion permitted. There had to be a leak this end, he thought. There was no other answer. Hang on….. he suddenly got excited; of course, it had to be him! There on the screen was the obvious answer; Patrick Giovedi. A young, skinny guy that Dan had never got on with. He was working in their Accounts Department and would have had access to most of the files. Looking up his work history, there was no clue to his involvement. Only just turned 21, he’d been given a complete FBI clearance, though he’d only been working here for only 12months. What convinced Dan was his family history. Grew up in a tough neighbourhood – the son of an Irish mother and Italian father – put himself through school, attended North Hills College before attending NY University. ‘North Hills’ was the same college Bret had been peddling his drugs! Co-incidence? Dan didn’t trust co-incidences too much. What nailed his suspicion was a file photo of a young Patrick riding his bike in his old Bronx neighborhood. There he was outside a mens tailor shop; Tony Alverez Tailor. The bald-headed goon looking for Bret at the Bear’s Den was called Alverez. Must be a relative – maybe a father that owned the Tailor shop. Patrick must have known the Alverez’s, Dan thought to himself; it’s the only answer to why this guy had found Bret so quickly. Dan dialed the number of Kens’ Barbershop. “Hey Ken! Look I won’t be able to make it back tonight – I’ve got a lead! Can you put Bret up for the night – I’ll be around tomorrow………..Yeah! You’ll be safe tonight….sure….have fun!” Dan hung up the receiver. Ken had been more than happy to accommodate Bret for the night. Already, he was well and truly looking like he was a regular at the Bear’s Den! Ken had just finished washing out the hair dye when Dan had rung. Bret’s newly acquired beard was jet black, certainly a change from his former blond coloring. Ken started to dab at the beard with a brush he’d dipped in another mysterious bottle. Bret’s beard was a full beard that Ken had left thick at the chin and above his top lip. The sides he’d trimmed down short. He continued to run the brush through the chin whiskers and moustache, leaving the sides and cheeks alone. Bret could now see the black of the beard being bleached wherever the gel was brushed on. Ken decided to run the brush through more vigorously now. As the gel dried his beard was beginning to look more white than black. Again Bret’s beard was washed and dried. Ken now began to brush something else through the part bleached areas. It was a very thick, dark gel. “Just something to make you look a little older,” said a grinning Ken. After twenty minutes, the gel was washed out. Bret saw what Ken had meant about looking older! His tache and styled chin whiskers had a lot of gray showing through. As the hours had ticked by Bret’s transformation into a biker Dad was becoming more and more obvious. Bret had even started to get off on the changes that were happening to him – thanks to the drugs still being pumped into his body. He was no longer the skinny college nerd that had entered the barbershop, earlier that night. His body was much fatter. His neck had grown wider, a generous double chin, had appeared, hidden by the grey beard. His whole face had taken on a bloated look. His eyebrows were dark and thick now, his eye coloring no longer blue, but brown, thanks to coloured contacts. Bret’s stomach was now a round beer belly stretching down to his lap. His chest was bigger with his pecs forming definite manboobs. His whole body was now covered in black hair mixed with silver-gray here and there. A real contrast to the smooth look he’d come in with. Piercings now adorned his nipples. Four large hoops swung from the left ear making the lobe stretch down under their weight. Bret hadn’t been too willing for the metal, but the drugs helped convince him. “Now it’s getting late, I think that will be enough tonight,” said Ken. Bret was beat after all the work done on him and all the drugs pumped into him over the past five hours. He was sure ready for some shuteye. “First let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.” After Ken had put Bret to bed in the spare room above the shop, he waited for him to go off to sleep. He knew he’d not wake up thanks to a little tonic in his hot cocoa. Ken began to apply an oil over Bret’s face. In a few minutes it would dry and shrink. Then Ken would apply another layer. This was his radical plan to help age Bret, beyond his 28 years. The oil would cause premature aging. Ken made sure the layers would be more on his forehead and around his crows feet. Next he applied a small weight to each nipple ring. Then he applied a vacuum cylinder to Bret’s rather average sized cock. He took a needle and injected it into one of Bret’s balls. As he pushed down on the plunger the testicle began to inflate. He repeated this with the other ball. They would be stretched latter after they had grown, like his cock would. Ken plunged another needle into the base of the dick. He connected the vacuum to a small machine that would then operate the vacuum all night. “Sweet Dreams Brett,” said Ken, giving him a kiss on the lips before retiring himself Part 12 Hey Ken! Anyone home?” Dan called as he let himself into the back of the shop with his own key. It was nearing 3 in the afternoon. “And just where have you been?” replied Ken as he came down the stairs from the apartment above. give him a sedative about an hour ago. He didn’t wake up feeling too good. ”Can I take a look?” asked Dan. “Sure thing.” Dan wasted no time going up to the bedroom where Bret was in. About 5 minutes latter Dan was coming down the stairs supporting a groggy Bret. “Sorry I’m so late. I’ve made progress on our mole. One Patrick Giovedi, works in our Accounts department – bloody weasel!” sneered Dan. “Coffee?” Ken asked as he went to a sideboard to pour himself a cup. “Sure! Would kill for one.” “I hope not,” smiled Ken as he poured a cup for Dan. “So how’s our patient?” asked Dan. “Had to amazing Barber, Ken,” smiled Dan as Ken came to give him a hand. “He wanted to get up – seems pretty out of it still.” “Let’s put him back in the chair,” replied Ken, “I need to work quickly on him with this company snitch on our tale.” “What more can you do? This is amazing – I mean the whole package is unrecognizable as Bret.” Said Dan carefully placing Bret in the chair. “Not enough! Got to do the attitude and personality adjustments for him to be totally believable. Without it he will expose who he really is for sure.” Said Ken as he worked some switches at the back of the chair and the large TV screen came to life. “Bret was pretty freaked out this morning when he woke up – I mean who wouldn’t be? He started saying we were turning him into some freak, that we had no right” EARLIER Yes indeed. When Bret awoke that morning he felt terrible. He slowly came to only to find this sucking cylinder on his dick. He quickly removed it and couldn’t believe his eyes. His modest dick was huge – well over 12 inches, and his balls were like melons. His mind was trying to figure what had happened last night. It wasn’t a dream after all. Just then Ken had entered the room. “Ah! Your awake sunshine.” “What the hell! What have you done to me?” Bret spat at Ken “I thought you would like all the enhancements,” replied Ken. “Here take a look!” he then said producing a large mirror. “Ahhhhh………..no…it can’t be! You made me into an old fuck like you.” Bret screamed. His face appeared to be years older and with the gray-black beard made him unrecognizable as a 28 year old. His sagging breasts had huge weights attached to the nipple rings – no wonder they felt numb. “I’m getting out of here, I don’t care what the mob does to me; it can’t be worse than what you fuckers have done.” “Just relax Bret. I know it’s all a bit much to take in at first – but you’ll get use to it. Remember – it’s for your own protection!” Ken replied suddenly producing a chloroformed rag. Bret tried to free himself but Ken was still fitter and stronger. It wasn’t long before Bret passed out. Back in the Barbershop Ken was busy making Bret more co-opperative. “I don’t want to be like you guys,” Bret said groggily as he focused on the swirling patterns in front of him. “Sure you do, Bret. Relax and focus on the screen in front. You’re feeling so good now. You love the new you…. “No way…I don’t want ….I can’t stay like this….I have to get awayyy….” “No Bret. You only hear the sound of my voice. Concentrate on the patterns. They are relaxing you aren’t they Bret!” Ken softly and evenly spoke into Bret’s ear. “Yes, they are relaxing… but I have to get away from here….I…I…” “No Bret. Listen to my voice,” Ken continued, “you like my Barbershop, you like the changes we are making to you. You are looking more of a man than before – more mature, rugged.” “I like being in your Barbershop….” repeated Bret. Ken continued to work on Bret. He’d decided it was best if he forgot about his former life – safer as well. Dan kept watch, keeping an eye on the street out front of the shop. He was extra careful not to be followed this time. After about an hour and three injections, Ken said he was finished for now. “He’ll still need follow up work, but when he awakes he’ll be a different guy altogether. He will be an old, mature biker bear, ready to show us his nice big cock.” Dan look at Bret’s naked body. His cock was certainly big, but the width now was like a beer can. “Maybe that size head deserves a nice big ring.” “Just what I was thinking,” replied Ken. With that he got his piercing cart and went to work giving Bret a nice gold PA through his huge piss hole and ensuring it was permanently closed. “Now for some finishing touches,” smiled left Ken to his fun working on Bret. Ken as he went to the counter and took a bottle of one of his potions. “I want this dude looking so different from his former self even his own mother wont recognize him.” He proceeded to paint the sides and back of Bret’s bald head with the green goop. “This will quicken the hairgrowth, so his male pattern baldness will be obvious. It will make him look even older.” The stubble had just started to appear on Bret’s head except on the top and crown where Ken had permanently removed it. “Listen Ken, I have an idea to set up Giovedi.” Dan said, coming over to watch the process and fascinated at how thorough Ken was. “Give me a few hours and I’ll be back. Have that television ready, I think Giovedi needs an attitude adjustment!” “Sounds good to me,” laughed Ken. Dan Part 13 Ken heard a tap at the rear door to the shop. He’d been cleaning up after his time spent on Bret. “Dan! Your back! Who’s your friend?” asked Ken as he ushered Dan and a young, skinny guy into the shop. “Ken, this is Patrick. Patrick Giovedi.”Dan answered introducing his firm’s accountant. The guy looked very nervous, especially now that Dan had locked the rear door. “Patrick, nice to meet you,” Ken said, “so what can I do for you?” “I don’t know why I’m here actually – I mean I was practically dragged down here.” Patrick answered giving Dan a distrustful look. “I told him it would be in his best interest to come down here to meet you.” Dan responded. “Yeah! Sure – forced more like it.” Said Patrick. Then Dan put a hand on the accountants shoulder and pushed him towards one of the Barber chairs. Patrick realized there was some guy in the nearest chair, he seemed to be asleep. “Take a seat and we’ll explain why you’re here.” Dan said, practically pushing him into the chair. He then whispered something to Ken, who then went to the control panels at the back of the first chair that Bret was sitting on, still unconscious. “Now Patrick. I’ve noticed how your always looking at me – I think you’ve got a thing for a real man and I’m the kind of guy you’ve been looking for.” Began Dan. Patrick’s eyes went wide, he could hardly believe his ears, “What the hell. Are you insane? I’m no faggot and if I were, I definitely wouldn’t be interested in a old, fat fart like you. Where in the world do you get off calling me………..wha…” Before Patrick could finish the chair was spun around. “What the fuck? Cried Patrick as he felt a leather strap go around his chest. “Shut it,” Dan said “or I’ll shove my cock up that virgin arse of yours.” Stunned, Patrick stayed quiet long enough for another restraint to go around his ankles. Suddenly a TV screen in front of him came to life. It seemed to be a series of patterns and flashing shapes. Patrick tried to turn away but Dan had his head in a vice-like grip. “Yes Patrick, I think your going to enjoy Ken’s entertainment.” Dan whispered into the ear of Patrick. Gradually his attempts to stop looking at the screen lessened till finally he was at Ken’s mercy. “Now Ken, the full treatment. Can you make Pat a full-blown queen.?” asked Dan “Your wish is my command, but what’s your plan?” Dan went on,” I want our snitch here to be totally discredited but those his working for. Once they see what he is into, I don’t think they’ll be dealing with him in future. Now I want him particularly into straight cock.” “Sounds interesting – I’ll give it my best shot.” Replied Ken. He began to go through some DVDs as Dan went over to Bret’s chair. “Shit Ken! What have you done to our other guest?” “Not bad if I do say so myself.” Answered Ken. “Bloody amazing, I’d say,” Dan said. He was looking at the hair growth around the sides and back, a perfect male pattern baldness specimen. The hair was very noticeable now, grown out to a number one length and coloured dark grey with some silver showing through to match his beard. The top of his bald head seemed darker tanned with signs of ageing and sun damage. His face appeared to be even older then when Dan had left, the result of Ken’s desire to make this guy totally unrecognizable. As Ken inserted a DVD into a compartment on the side of the television he asked, “So how old do you think he looks?” “At least 60!” answered a still stunned Dan. “No one will ever believe this is Bret Williamson.” Meanwhile, Ken turned his focus to Patrick. He was now completely hypnotized – the screen in front now showing occasional pictures of naked, athletic jocks. Ken set up two syringes and injected the first into Patrick’s left arm. He then went on to say, “Now Patrick – can you hear my voice?” “Yes.” “Good. And you’re starting to feel very relaxed?” “Yes.” “You’re going to feel even better soon. As you watch the screen you feel more at ease and comfortable with what you see. Your beginning to enjoy the photos of the men, it’s starting to make your cock rise.” Dan noticed the kid’s bulge developing in his crotch. He watched fascinated as Ken worked on the new ‘client’. There were no plans to alter his memories just his sexual preferences. They would have some fun with this one – he deserved it. LATER. “Bart have you met Patrick?” Ken announced loudly as he and Dan brought Patrick into the Bar. It was just after 6 pm and the Bar contained a few regulars. They had finished there work on the kid, and on Bret who was sitting in a dark corner still a little zonked out. Jerrt was sitting with him both drinking some heavy gainer beer. “Well, Pat we don’t get many like you in here?” chipped in Bart offering his hand. Patrick refused to shake it, even though he couldn’t take his eyes off Bart’s body. As usual the bartender was wearing no shirt and just a tight pair of black, leather pants. “The names Patrick, and I’ve never been to a place like this before.” Patrick replied, but feeling his cock hardening. “How about a drink – help you relax?” asked Bart. “Well…I suppose I could have one before I go.” Stammered Patrick. Suddenly he was conscious of pipe smoke, all around him. Ken had lit up one of his special blends. “Hope my pipe isn’t bothering you son?” “Yes. Actually it is bothering me….it kind of smells…..you can’t…..” Patrick tried to speak but the smoke encircling him was making it hard. He started to feel at ease, why was that. He took a long gulp of the beer. “Take another,” Bart pushed the drink into Patrick’s hands. He felt he should. He started to feel he should do anything this guy asked. “So Pat! Still want me to stop smoking my pipe?” asked Ken putting a firm hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “No. No, it’s fine. I’m getting use to it.” Replied a much more amiable Patrick. It wasn’t long before Patrick was on his second drink. Ken suggested Bart have a break, giving him a wink. Bart went around to Patrick, grabbed his arm and said, “why don’t we get to know each other a little better!” Feeling a little light-headed and confused, Patrick went with Bart. “Quick Ken! Go get your camera; let’s get a snap of the happy couple,” said Dan. Within a half hour, Patrick was all over Bart, totally oblivious of having pictures taken. He had his shirt off and before long, was sucking on Bart’s huge cock – PA and all. The next day, Patrick was back at work totally unaware that he had been straight up until yesterday. He couldn’t remember much about last night but he definitely wanted to return for some more action with Bart. The phone suddenly disturbed his daydreams. It was his cell phone. “Hello! “It’s Alverez. We haven’t heard from you for a while. Not trying to get out of our little arrangement are you?” “No…of course not. I’ve had no new information.” answered a frightened Patrick. “Well keep an eye on that ‘faggot’ boss of yours. He won’t suspect you, and I’m sure his still in contact with Williamson.” “Sure…but I’ve got to be careful…” then Patrick stopped as he realized Alverez had hung up. It was just nearing 5pm when Dan came up to Patrick’s desk. “How about coming with me for a drink? You made such a good impression at the Bears Den yesterday- thought you might like to come along again. I have to check up on one of our recent client relocation in the same area, so your welcome to come along.” “Ah! Sure, thanks…..I was finished up here anyway.” Responded a shocked Patrick. What great luck. Now he might find out where they have Bret stashed and finally get Alverez off his back. As Dan and Patrick drove to the other side of town, Dan noticed a dark sedan following. He knew Alverez was probably watching him. Perfect, he thought to himself. As they entered the Bears Den, Bart immediately came over and gave Patrick a kiss. “Great to see you again Pat. Here – have one of my ‘special ’frosties. Dan left the bar to see Ken, leaving Patrick in Bart’s capable hands. Watching out the Barbershop window, Dan saw Alverez head straight into the bar. “Right on cue,” said Dan. Ken was already heading to the bar via the rear door. Roberto Alverez had no time for ‘ fags ‘ and here he was in this sordid bar a second time. He quickly scanned the room, which seemed to be busy already. As he passed a notice board he did a double take. There in the middle were the photographs that Ken had taken of Bart and Patrick. Alverez felt sick. He always thought Giovedi was a homo. No wonder he was coming to this bar. “Can I buy you a drink, son?” “What?” Alverez found himself looking at the huge gut of the very man he was looking for, Bret Williamson. “No, just looking for a friend…” he quickly replied, feeling totally repulsed by the old farts appearance. When he spied Patrick at the bar seemingly enjoying himself with the other guy in the photo, Alverez quickly left. As he climbed into his car he dialed a number on his cell. “No leads I’m afraid. Giovedi is a liability. Yes! I understand, I’ll take care of it.” Alverez hung up and started the car. Chapter14 A FEW DAYS LATER. Patrick was scared. He had tried to contact Alverez, unsuccessfully each time. Something had changed. He knew he was a liability as he knew of Alverez’s involvement with the mob. In fact, their families had grown up together in a tough city neighbourhood. That’s how Alverez had first approached him about becoming an informant….even though he knew it was dangerous – the promise of easy money – well now Patrick wished he’d never gotten involved. He knew his life could be in danger. That’s when he decided to confide in his new ‘boyfriend’ Bart. Bart had insisted he tell Dan everything, but Patrick knew he’d be in big trouble with the authorities. Of course Bart had been briefed on the whole story so he knew which way Dan wanted to proceed with this poor excuse for a man. “Jerry! Mind the store – I’m going next door.” Said Bart as he took Patrick’s arm. “Ken will know how to help, his an expert at creating disguises!” continued Bart. Patrick decided this guy knew best – he trusted him, but what did he mean by disguises? “Listen to Ken, Patrick, it’s your best hope”. Said Bart as he sat on one of the waiting areas chairs. They had been in the Barbershop for a good half hour, explaining everything to Ken. Patrick was sitting in one of the Barber chairs, Ken resting against the counter. Ken had been trying to convince Patrick he needed a radical makeover to escape the mob. Suddenly there was the sound of the lock turning in the rear door. It was Dan, whom Ken had previously contacted. “So Patrick – you’ve come clean finally.” Dan said, approaching the chair. “Look, it’s not my fault. I was forced in………..AHHHHHH!” Patrick didn’t finish, Dan slapped him hard across the face. “That’s for the 2 people we lost. You’ve nearly cost everyone at ‘New Beginnings’ their job. And now you want us to save your sorry arse?” “Please! I’ll do anything you want, please don’t turn me in……I’ll never survive in prison – the mob will find me.” Pleaded Patrick with tears streaming down his face. “In that case you will do everything we tell you, agreed?” asked Dan. “Agreed”.Patrick said trying to stifle his sniffles. Ken came over to the chair, “then we have to work quickly and you must do as I say?” “Yes! Anything you say.” Patrick was beginning to feel less frightened. How bad could a makeover be? He was just relieved at Dan not going to the cops. “Well first thing is to make you blend in around here if we’re to look after you – Dan! How about a beer? This could take some time!” “Count me in.” said Dan. Ken went out to the back room, ensuring Patricks drink was the one with the growth building steroids. Handing the drink to Patrick he said, “if your going to hang around here your going to have to drink a lot of beers – it’s the only way you’ll never be found.” Patrick thought it a strange comment – how can beer help hide me? Maybe behind a beergut perhaps he mused to himself. “Now then, I think you need quite a bit of work, your hair hasn’t seen any cutting lately, has it?” Ken said running his hand through the long, dark locks of hair at the back of Patricks head. “No, I kind of avoid haircuts – my hair is so thin, I never like what they do to it.” Responded Patrick, now looking in the mirror at his hair. “Well boy! Having it longer doesn’t make it thicker,” Ken went on grabbing a pair of heavy-duty Oyster clippers, “Let’s start with the length.” As the sound of the clippers being fired up filled the air, Patrick started to worry. The teeth met his front hairline and began to take the hair down to a quarter inch. Patrick couldn’t believe his eyes as the clippers cleared more and more hair from the top of his head, only stopping just past his crown. He took a huge gulp on his beer, as if for courage, but found himself enjoying the taste. Dan caught a signal from Ken to grab a few more. Within a few minutes, all the length on Patrick’s head was gone. He certainly looked different, but he didn’t really like it – he’d had long hair ever since his early teens. Ken turned the clippers off. Examining the top of the head he then said, “Your getting a little sparse on top, your not going to be able to pull off a HnT or recon. Maybe we should shave it all off.” “No! Please don’t shave me bald, I’d look terrible.” protested a worried Patrick. “Shut it, boy! Remember, who’s the boss now.” Dan suddenly interrupted. “Sorry, I know but I’ll put up with any other haircut, just don’t take all my hair off.” Patrick said easing his tone a little. “Okay. I won’t shave it all off,” Ken continued, changing the guard on the clippers, “I’ll do one of my specialties instead.” And with that he brought the clippers to the hairline again and drew them slowly through the remaining hair and in their wake, only white skin remained. Patrick went to complain, but saw Dan get up towards him. As Ken continued the clippering Dan could now see Ken was indeed giving the boy one of his specialties – an MPB cut. As Ken turned off the clippers, he asked, “So how do you like it so far?” “You said you weren’t going to shave all my hair off!” Patrick said as tears began to form in his eyes. “You said any haircut. Besides – you’ll still have hair this way, and you were on the way to male pattern baldness anyway. I’m just speeding up the process.” Ken smiled as he went to his counter to get some of his special hair removal ingredient. Patrick couldn’t believe how different he looked already. Ken had just removed the last of the permanent hair depilatory gel, which he’d left on extra long. Patrick could feel a definite tingling on his scalp. There wasn’t a single hair to be seen- no shadow, just a ring of long, black hair around the sides and back. He looked so old – so freaky, and this was permanent. “Drink up Boy! You’ll soon like the changes.” Laughed Ken, noticing the look of shock on Patrick’s face. “Now for the rest of the hair,” and he took another attachment, switched on the clippers and commenced to run them up from the base of the neck to the crown, pushing Patrick’s head forward. Now with his chin pressed against his chest, he couldn’t see the results. He could feel the heat of the blades stripping him of all his hair. But, hang on – was that his cock twitching. He couldn’t believe he was starting to get a hard-on. His head was spinning a little – it must be the beer! He thought to himself. When Ken had finished, Patrick was able to look at himself in the mirror. His dark, long locks were gone, but he wasn’t bald, Ken had left him with a fairly thick band of hair framing the bald skin on top. Suddenly, a high pitched sound started up, his head was pushed forward again, and Ken was going up the back of his head again, this time, only trimming the edges and blending it into the thicker hair. When he was finished, Ken showed Patrick the finished results in a hand mirror.” See! I did as you asked. Any style except totally shaved.” Even though he was angry at Ken, he was starting to feel more relaxed. As he looked closer, he was starting to think he was going to be safe from Alverez and at the same time, escape the hands of the FBI. Maybe it was worth the new haircut! Part 15 “Patrick! I think it’s time for a little payment for the trouble you have caused Dan,” Ken purred into Patrick’s ear. “What do you mean.” Asked Patrick nervously Ken began to lower the back of the chair. He noticed that the beer was definitely having an effect on Patrick’s body, he was developing a large beer gut on his skinny frame already.�� “I just want to make sure, that, your extra popular with the customers around here.”Ken smiled. And with that he attached a large cylinder to Patrick’s now exposed cock. He hooked it up by a tube running to a small compressor unit. At the same time, he attached two smaller cylinders to each nipple and again attached each to a tube on the compressor. As he turned it on, the sudden noise and sensation made Patrick jump. “I’m not having any of this freaky shit!” Patrick said going to get up out of the chair, but as he looked down he stopped himself; what had happened to his stomach – he’d always been skinny, now he had this large jutting beer-gut. This was just what Ken needed. The delay gave Dan enough time to restrain Patrick, while Ken gave him an injection. “That will relax you boy. Dan! Give our boy here another beer.” Patrick slouched back into the chair. “WH…….?” “Yeah! The paralysis drug I gave you reacts real quick!” said Ken. Dan brought the beer over. “Now open wide,” said Ken as he forced the mouth open. “Dan – I think our friend here is a little parched.” Dan began to pour the brew slowly down Patrick’s throat – to prevent gagging. Patrick was unable to move. He felt the beer going down his throat, but he couldn’t move. When Dan was finished, Ken asked him to bring the remaining special labeled Beer in his fridge. “your going to get a real thirst for this brew young man,” responded Ken, seeing the fear in Patrick’s eyes. Patrick had to admit he was already getting to love the beer despite never being a beer drinker before. Ken and Dan had been working on the company snitch for nearly 4 hours now. Ken looked up from his work to see Bart coming through the rear door. “Thought I come and take a look at how your getting on. Brought you some sandwiches too in case yo….. Jesus! Is that Patrick? “ Bart suddenly said noticing the figure in the chair. “No. This is Kell.” Smiled Ken, finishing up with a small metal trolley he’d been using. “There is no longer a Patrick Giovedi. This bears name is Ken O’Halloran, ‘BeerKeg’ to his friends.” “No kidding”, whistled Bart. “I’ve got to hand it to you partner, this is your best work yet!” Dan nodded in agreement as they looked at the transformation in front of them. The pasty, skinny Italian had been remade into a huge, hairy, monstrously built Irish Biker Still naked in the chair, Patrick’s belly was more than a beer gut now. It measured over 50 inches, and his now obvious manboobs were sitting on top of the huge stomach. His nipples had been stretched and were the size of silver dollars now, both nipples hanging even lower after heavy weight, gold rings now adorned them. Bart couldn’t stop looking at the giant cock – as thick as a beer can and over 13 inches long. He now had severe male pattern baldness , with only a ring of red hair around the sides. It had to be a 7 on the Norwood Scale. His face seemed bloated, he now had a few double chins, his skin had no real tan, he seemed a lot fairer – more Irish than Italian. He was wearing a walrus style moustache that covered his top lip. It hung down the sides of his mouth and curled at the ends. It was a luxuriant red also – obviously dyed, as this guy looked like he was over 50. His eyebrows were bushier, and the same color red as the rest of the hair on his body. And that too was luxuriant – all over his back and chest, that sort of hair would require a lot of wax to see smooth skin again. “There is still a bit of work to do to him yet…… just to teach him a lesson.” Said Ken waving some smelling salts under Patrick’s nose. He started to stir, slowly at first – then he began to moan. “ What happened? I feel like a truck ran into me.” Patrick said suddenly realizing where he was and that he hadn’t been dreaming. “You’ve been out for hours, your bound to feel a bit groggy,” replied Ken. “Ready to see the new you?” As Ken spun the chair around a piercing scream filled the Barbershop. Ken added, “Not to your liking, Beerkeg?” “Fucking hell….what the? I’m not me any more. I’m so fat! I look older than you guys. I never agreed to this, I mean it can’t be legal?” yelled Patrick as he tried to struggle against the restraints. Dan spoke first. “Your lucky we didn’t turn you in to the cops, or better yet, Alverez”. Ken had switched the TV on and the swirling patterns started. Patrick tried to turn away but found himself starting to relax, his eyes starting to glaze over. “Now for some reconditioning,” said Ken. “A little dumbing down is warranted here…….What the fu…..? Ken was suddenly startled by the sound of the back door being ripped off it’s hinges. The big, bald frame of Tony Alverez was stepping over the smashed door. He’d been snooping around…..he knew there was something fishy about the Bar next door, and when he’d heard this scream coming from the Barbershop, he ran down the back alley – gun drawn. “Hands up! That means you in the chair as well.” Barked Alverez. Bart, Dan and Ken did as they were told, only Patrick couldn’t as he was still restrained and transfixed by the hypnotic screen in front of him. Going over to the chair, Alverez repeated the command, then noticed the restraints, “What’s going on here? What are you fags doing to the fat guy? “Oh, that’s just Beerkeg,” replied Ken. “He likes a bit of rough play when he has a haircut.” Ken smiled. “Why is he looking like a zom……at the televisio…..those patterns are….” Alverez had made the mistake of turning to look at the screen that Beerkeg was staring at. “Don’t anyone try anything……..funny…..” Alverez tried to say. “Come here and take a seat, son – you look tired!” said Ken getting Dan to help him carefully remove the gun from Alverez’hand. They directed him to another chair being careful not to turn his head.

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