#i get older and more tired and while i never questioned if studying med was the path i want i do question what will happen next

[dropsofletters]

the whisper in the obvious [bbh]

—summary: she hasn’t had enough time in her life to date because of her work. in order to fill the void of romantic intimacy and domesticity, she lurks online for brief videos or recordings to make her feel better. it works for a while, much more when she finds a man who does boyfriend roleplays—blue moon. it’s not like she’ll ever get to know him, right?

baekhyun doesn’t have much luck in romance. whoever he dates end up either cheating on him or turning their dates into the worst date of his life. growing older by the day, without someone by his side and a job that he hates, he creates a patreon account where he pretends to be people’s boyfriends…blue moon, he has called himself. it’s not like someone he knows will look him up, right?

they’re completely wrong, that’s for sure.

—title: the whisper in the obvious —pairing: byun baekhyun x reader —genre: friends who banter to crushes to lovers!au ; anonymous asmrtist!au ; technician!au ; doctor!au ; meet messy!au —type: fluff ; humor ; angst ; suggestive ; slowburn —word count: 18,768 —warnings: mentions of sex (though the act is never shown on the narrative on itself), alcohol, some descriptions of sicknesses and wounds but nothing graphic.

This is downright pathetic.

Aching limbs flail on each side of her body as she lays on her bed, splayed much like a star as her eyes set on the ceiling. Her earbuds let a manly, somewhat lighthearted voice breathe out words in a faceless manner, straight from a monthly subscription to a Patreon account. Had anyone told her that the only way she could ever get the relief of having a relationship when she became an adult was going to be through a man speaking softly into a microphone about how her day was and what she had eaten, giving vague answers whatsoever, she would have probably given them a laugh.

But life is laughing now, because time runs too quickly during the day when she works in the ER, and it has been well over two years since the last time she had any kind of physical touch with a man. Period. Most times, she doesn’t need it—what can be done by a man to her body can be done by herself much easier, but the kind of warmth that comes from a cuddling session after a tiring day and the endless conversations that come with having someone by her side that she wholeheartedly trusts, only to receive a kiss of comfort at the very end, has long died in her routine.

Now, all she has left is the company of some stranger that has a quite wide fanbase for his boyfriend roleplays—pathetic, she wants to call herself once again, but Blue Moon Whispers does the trick. She gets a boyfriend that she doesn’t have to talk to throughout the day, that cares for her like no one will and a plus, of course, that she’s not the only one that spends money on a man doing this for her.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Yet, she closes her eyes, tries to even out her breaths when Blue Moon speaks into the microphone. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He drags the last few words, a sigh following his statement before he chuckles softly. “My job is so boring. I’m really good at it, but…I don’t know, it’s not what anyone would want to do for the rest of their lives.”

She tries not to wonder about his workplace. Maybe, he’s a nine-to-five worker, or with that voice, he could be one of those telephone workers that pick up sex-lines calls in order to please other people. She could imagine it, there’s some mischief in his tone that tells her he’s not just quite as sweet as his voice recordings.

Humming, she tugs her covers up her neck, listening to more of what he says.

“But enough about me, how was work for you?” Terrible. Working as a doctor is far more difficult than studying for it, and she felt like tugging at her eyeballs when being in med school. Constantly being screamed at by specialists and being questioned by family members when she gives a diagnosis is not quite what she imagined, and her blood pressure is up the roof when she has to save someone last minute. Tonight, she had a patient with atherosclerosis have a heart attack and it was quite possibly the most stressful time of the day. The patient is alive, thankfully.

“I see…” Almost as if he has heard her internal rant, Blue Moon responds. “But I’m here to distract you, aren’t I?” His voice drops at that moment, pressing a kiss into the microphone that has a smile appearing on her features. Okay. Pathetic, has she said that already? She feels like a teenager at this point. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

Her voice gets caught in her throat when she thinks of the first show that comes to mind.

“The Rookie, right?”

Wait, how did he know what kind of show she wanted to watch?

Blue Moon was, quite possibly, the only man that had fit her just right…and that comes from someone who pays a stranger on Patreon to get her dose of domesticity. Her past boyfriends, though not many, always felt lacking. Assholes, for the most part, she adores someone who shows their true colors at the very end and they end up being the most rancid shade of poop-colored brown. The sarcasm is ever present, but all her past boyfriends have been close to pieces of shit, if not entirely so.

It’s not a surprise that she did not try again. Her thirties are only getting closer and she can’t bring herself to put her dating profile out there again. It’s scary, downright stupid and she knows that it won’t ever end well.

“Let me cuddle closer to you—”

Someone shouts her name at the top of her lungs in a sing-song tone, and she recognizes the deep voice quite well. Chohee, her friend and next-door neighbor, is the only person to use her spare key for whatever excuse she has inside her head and invite herself inside her apartment as if she pays half the rent. Just as her fingers fiddle to get her earphones out, sitting up on the bed with widened eyes, Chohee opens the door, pushing her long black hair off her shoulder.

“I brought some cheeseburgers—” At the steady rise and fall of her chest and her disheveled hair—in her defense, today’s day of work had been hell—, Chohee stops speaking. “Were you watching porn?”

What is easier in this ungodly situation of adult life, to admit that she’s hearing a man speaking into her ear while pretending to be her boyfriend, or that she is watching something quite relatively normal? “Yeah.” The latter is easier. She doesn’t want Chohee peeping into her stuff.

Chohee purses her thin lips coated in a glimmer of gloss. “Do you want me to leave you to it or…?”

Well, that option was awkward as well. She could’ve denied both. Shit.

“No, it’s fine. I—It’s not…It wasn’t…It wasn’t doing the trick, I guess.” Locking her phone, she pushes it underneath her pillow before patting the spot in front of her. Chohee takes it without much of a question on the tip of her tongue.

“I hate when that happens.” With that, Chohee tugs at her phone, trying to unlock it—and fuck, she really does know the password. “But I’ve been subscribing to OnlyFans accounts instead. There are some really cute guys there—”

Alert. Red alert. She can’t let Chohee look at the most simplistic of intimacy in the form of an online boyfriend, that only lasts a few minutes to an hour with her. “Uh, Chohee, you don’t have to.”

“No, girl, I have to.” Chohee says, splaying the plastic bag of cheeseburgers on the bed just as she’s reaching forward for her. The taller woman ducks back, trying to unlock her phone. “You haven’t been with a man in a while, I need to help you make your alone time as worthy as possible. I think—”

“Chohee, don’t check my phone.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen dicks. You have definitely seen dicks.” Chohee rolls her eyes just as she takes her phone in between her fingers, but never does she once relent on letting go of it, tugging at it instead. “What’s the problem?”

“I just don’t want you to look at it.”

“But why are you so ashamed? It’s really nothing you should be embarrassed about—”

Between the tugging back and forth, her phone clashes against the flooring, enough to make her widen her eyes when she sees it falling face down. “Shit.” She curses, ignoring the apologies that rake from Chohee’s vocabulary when she lowers herself to pick it up.

The screen is broken and when her thumb presses on the button, the screen lights up in different colors of the rainbow, and she can’t even see the lock-screen.

“Is it broken?”

She scoffs. “Shattered. Broken. Destroyed. What’s another synonym?”

“In my defense,” Chohee says and the chewing that comes soon after tells her that she’s already diving into those cheeseburgers. “You were the one hiding your porn from me. Are you into feet or shit like that?”

She clutches her fists together. “I’m into men eating shit, that’s exactly it.” She replies sarcastically, turning around to watch Chohee staring at her with surprise. A sigh leaves her lips. “I’m kidding, but now I need to get my phone fixed. My patients and other doctors contact me through here.”

Her friend swats her hand in the air. “Baek can fix it.”

Oh, over her dead body.

Byun Baekhyun is Chohee’s best friend, annoyance on legs, too overexcited, the kind of child teachers had a headache for. Baekhyun has been in her life for more than six years, as long as Chohee had been—the man that drunkenly screamed her name at the top of his lungs during her graduation, or the one that almost ran over her foot at his birthday party when he was learning how to drive and didn’t know how to park backwards. Baekhyun, though great, is just the type of person she can’t stand for more than an hour. Let alone for fixing her phone.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Chohee corrects. “You know he wouldn’t ask you for money just to fix your screen.”

“Still,” Something for free sounds excellent at this time where Chohee interrupted my time with my faux boyfriend and also destroyed my phone in the matter of minutes, but I have to deny it. “You know how Baekhyun is. He’ll probably be asking me a bunch of questions—”

“And?”

“I don’t enjoy people prying into my business.”

Chohee smiles at that, pushing her black bangs away from her small face. “He doesn’t do it with a bad heart,” She tells. “Part of me thinks Baekhyun just doesn’t like feeling lonely, so he speaks a lot just to…have attention. It’s the child in him. Let him.”

Somehow, guilt takes over my body. Maybe, I’ve been too harsh judging the man. “…Okay.” I breathe out, standing up and moving towards the bed, laying parallel to Chohee before taking a bite of her cheeseburger. “Tell him I will be at his workplace tomorrow morning. At like eight, I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Waving my phone into the air, I sigh. “Someone decided to break my phone.”

“Right…”

I can already tell it’s going to be a long week.

###  

An engineering degree could only get him so far. Or, if he had completed his time in that engineering program, he may have had his own office by age twenty-eight, or at least, would have had the opportunity for a better salary. Baekhyun had heard it from his mom that he’d regret dropping out of university, but only now does it really become something that he thinks of.

For one, the morning is too dimmed to let the turquoise on his chemise shine brightly—he has to wear the same uniform every single day, tucked inside his jeans, accompanied by a dangling presentation card on his neck. The picture comes from when he was twenty-three, when he started working here, but he has been a technician ever since.

When he opted for this job, he thought he’d be like the others. Spend one year or two here, then flee away for something better. That didn’t happen, and with each portion of his life slipping away from his fingertips, he’s left to find other ways to meet ends as he mirrors himself on the oldest phone technician at his work place.

Suhyuk, above his fifties, working here for more than ten years. His wife divorced him just because he had not moved on with his life, and his children buy Samsung just not to have him fixing their iPhones.

Not even Suhyuk is here at such an early morning. Had it not been for Chohee’s constant texts, he would’ve probably gotten to work a bit later.

Yet, someone is already waiting for him. Chohee’s neighbor, his friend-that-doesn’t-really-want-to-be-friends-with-him, seated on the sidewalk, with her back leaning against the glassed door of his workplace.

“You’re here early.”

She scoffs, standing up when he extends his hand forward. She is not exactly his type, but his eyes rake down her body for a fraction of a second longer than usual. She’s not wearing scrubs, that’s new. “No, you’re here late.” Her fingers point at the watch under her dark denim jacket. “We said seven thirty. It’s eight thirteen.”

Baekhyun runs his fingers through his black hair, playing with the keys dangling from his elegant and long fingers before starting to open the door. “Who is awake at seven thirty?”

“Everyone who has a job, douchebag.” There it is. The name. Baekhyun can practically count with his fingers the number of insults people have thrown at him—all in different occasions and under different circumstances, but the only one he doesn’t feel particularly offended by is the ones she tells him. Douchebag, she had started to call him on his twenty-fifth birthday, when she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Chanyeol about Scarlett Johansson’s tit—

“I don’t get it. Why do you keep calling me a douchebag?” Baekhyun questions, opening the glassed doors and letting his finger twirl against the switch until all the white lights across his workplace brighten the white, spotless place.

She moves behind him, following after his steps and responding with what he can judge as a smile on her tone. “You’re just one.”

“You’ve been calling me that for years,” He says. “And just because I said Scarlett Johansson has nice tits. I didn’t even say tits, I said breasts. I was a whole nerd about it and you called me a douche—”

She chuckles at his words, the melody somewhat foreign. Serious has taken over every portion of her life, and he thinks it has been years since the last time he has seen her actually grin with happiness. He gets behind the counter, taking the phone that she lends him before looking at the screen.

Cracked as cracked can be.

This screams Chohee.

“I know what you said, and it wasn’t breasts.”

Baekhyun looks up, fixing the rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I know what I said.”

“I’ve read enough textbooks to have photographic and audible memory. You said,” She clears her throat then, making her voice a bit higher than her usual tone. That’s not his voice, he thinks to himself. “If I had to convert to a religion, it’d be Scarlett Johansson’s boobs. Can’t believe Ryan Reynolds dated her and I didn’t.”

Taking a small screwdriver between his hands, a smile takes over his features. Yeah, so he was drunk and he may have said that, but— “I said boobs.”

“Breasts, boobs, tits, fat with nipples, it’s all very douchey, if you ask me.”

“I was just saying something that I’m sure a lot of people think.” Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders, his frame looking slimmer on the oversized chemise. Definitely not very fitting for him. “Look me in the eye and tell me she doesn’t have nice boobs.”

“She does.”

“Well, then?” Baekhyun puts the screen to the side, kneeling down to search through his utensils. “It’s not cool that you don’t call me by my name.”

“It just rolls off easier. Douchebag.” She elongates the words then, leaning her elbows against the counter as she tries to connect her gaze to Baekhyun’s. The man stands up then, just as she continues with her train of thought. “As if Scarlett would have dated you over Ryan Reynolds.”

Baekhyun widens his eyes. “You don’t know that!”

“Of course, I know!” She replies. “Ryan Reynolds could break you in half with just one hand and you still think that she’d pick you?”

“I happen to have a nice body, too…you…”

“You’re trying to look for an insult?” With cheeks tinted red, he looks down at her phone, trying to work through the broken screen before his body jolts at the sound of her voice. “You can call me ‘bitch’ if you’d like.”

Wait. Pause.

Baekhyun squints his eyes, a strand of his hair curling against his forehead when he looks at her. “The real question is…do I want to die today?”

“Come on, I call you a douchebag, it’s only fair if you call me a bitch.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, returning to his work. “You’d kill me, and I’m not sure I want to anger someone who knows the human body better than anyone else.”

Truth is, Baekhyun has always thought of her as an ideal when it comes to success. Never giving up, even when her career will never let her stop studying. God, he can’t imagine how difficult it is to read as much as she does.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so by now.” The somberness of her voice does nothing to him. He has heard that before, as wicked as it sounds. “Come on, call me a bitch.”

“I won’t—”

“Just once. I don’t want to feel bad.”

“I—”

“Baekhyun, this is the only and last time I’ll ask. If not, I’ll start calling you a bitch myself.”

“Okay, bitch, calm down.” He finalizes, laughter following his statement when he sees her lips parting in surprise. “You told me to say it!”

“That came out a little too naturally—”

Baekhyun squares his shoulders then, ready to throw a joke her way only to see her more annoyed. His specialty. “Maybe, I’ve had one girl or two asking me to call her that.”

She rolls her eyes at his words. “And then you wonder why I call you a douchebag.” She adds. “I can’t imagine one single woman who would like to date you.”

He can imagine a few, but that’s not something she knows about. Baekhyun has always prided himself on one thing—on his voice and his way of getting someone to like him. Only that it comes with a downside: he doesn’t know how to pick the right women. So, more often than not, his dates ended up in disasters, relationships tangled in cheating and of course, how to forget? The day he decided to create his own ASMR Patreon channel for boyfriend roleplays just because he needed some money, only to end up with over thirteen thousand faux partners.

These days, people have wanted him to venture more into a world of rated recordings…and truth be told, his mind wanders. Part of him thinks it would be easier, perhaps more profitable for him, and no one would even look at him or notice who he was. Another part of him feels far too embarrassed. Sure, one thing was recording himself, another thing was publishing it.

“…That’s because you have bad tastes.” Baekhyun conquers, using his screwdriver again before pressing his long index finger to the turn-on button. “I think we’re done with your phone…”

“Bitch.”

“Huh?”

“You were about to say my name.”

“I won’t call you a bitch.” A smirk appears on his soft, delicate face then, merging his features until the screen lights up in between them. The phone is working. “I think you like it a bit too much, huh?”

Maybe, there are some portions of life worth remembering and there is a reason why he is still a phone technician, because he gets to see her otherwise serious expression turn into a laugh when she shakes her head.

“I’d rather be dead than have me in your bed, Baekhyun.” She takes her phone in between her hands, opening her purse just then. “How much is it?”

By the time she is out the glassed doors, blending in her darkened colors with the light, blurring sky, Baekhyun realizes one thing…

She didn’t call him a douchebag. Maybe, it slipped her mind or perhaps, she was nervous when she spat out her last few lines.

Yet, it’s true. He could never imagine the two of them being together.

###

“I’ve officially found the girl who’s going to be in your Patreon with you.”

The Manager Complex, write it in psychology books or Baekhyun may sell it to psychologist in order to get some money, but the concept exists within Chanyeol. Once he had catched a glimpse of Baekhyun’s microphone set-ups and he had to explain the point of his Patreon to his friend, there was no going back. With an agenda on the side of his elongated body, and a professional look on his face, Chanyeol has taken it upon himself to ‘plan out’ his channel…and sure, he’s thankful, but it somehow makes him feel as if he’s a product.

Chanyeol takes a seat across from him on their usual diner. Pink tiles, black and white walls and red tables do make the place justice, but what keeps them there is the fried chicken and pancakes. To die for, and much more if they accompany it with some vanilla ice cream after.

“You have?” Baekhyun asks. He’s not entirely sure if he’s sold to the idea of recording himself with someone else, pretending to be a couple. After all, he’s meant to be the listener’s boyfriend, not with someone else, but more people have joined asking him to be accompanied for heavier subjects on his recordings and truthfully…he wants to expand his horizons a little bit, or he’s, at least, thinking about it. “You can’t just find someone you think is hot and not tell them I plan on recording our voices—”

“She’s more skilled than you, dumbass.” Chanyeol ties his brown hair behind his back, opening his almost-empty agenda before sighing. “I’ve set you up on a date to see where things head and whatnot, but she’s another ASMRtist…and she has done rated recordings, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Oh. So, this is real.

Shit, he thinks it could be easy, but when he really ponders about it…there is this tinge of awkwardness and shyness that overtakes him. Sure, it would make his channel grow and hence, give him more money to spend at the end of the day, but he has to take a swig of beer to push down the bitter taste.

It feels void. People like him for pretending he is the nicest boyfriend in the world, borderline fake at times, but at the end of the day, they only want him to either give comfort or fulfill fantasies. None of them will understand him or want to be with him for who he is, or how he is. Loud-spoken, extroverted, sometimes pensive, mischievous with tinges of cheeky.

“Do I have to?”

Chanyeol looks up from his agenda then, playing with the edge of a piece of paper before shaking his head. “Record yourself? No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Baekhyun.” He closes the agenda in one go, his frown becoming more profound by the second. “But I do recommend you to go out on a date with her. She’s different from what you normally go for…and she’s cute. There’s nothing wrong with having fun with someone normal every once in a while.”

Looking around the diner, he spares a smile towards Chanyeol. “Okay, I will go out on a date with her.” With how busy he has been with the growth of his Patreon and his real job on top of that, he hasn’t quite gone out much…and that leaves him to take Chanyeol’s opportunity. If he thinks they are a match, then it must be true, right?

“You’re going to love her.”

“If you say so.”

“Cheers for you getting some after a while.” Chanyeol pushes his bottle of beer forward, only to have Baekhyun chuckling.

“Can’t promise that, but cheers!”

###

A thumping headache follows after every sigh that leaves her lips. Somehow, the isopropyl alcohol-scented emergency room does nothing to purify the utmost tiredness inside her body. Instead, she’s left sulking for the number of hours still left in her nightshift. It’s twelve at night and she, still, has to wait until three in the morning arrives to be able to go back home.

She hears a bag of food plopping against the counter, enough for her to lift her eyes ever-so-slowly. Seriously, she thinks she is half-asleep at this point, unaware if she is dreaming or wide awake. Seeing Jaebeom in front of her may be a dream; the second-year dermatology doctor smiling down at her. While he’s radiant, with his long brown hair cascading down his face and reaching his earlobes, wearing the typical white robe and his baby blue scrubs underneath, she has settled for her burgundy scrubs. The ones she wears every single day.

Truth is, everyone is talking about Lim Jaebeom these days. Even the nurses, for fuck’s sake. He manages to send a smile every few days, enough to have everyone going back to their jobs with hope dangling from their every movement, but the rest of the time, his mysterious persona and magnetism is what keeps everyone at the edges of their seats.

Including her. Of course, she’s included. Be damned the day someone decided to put a mole on his eyelid and not expect everyone to fall in love with it when he smiles.

The scent of sliced vegetables, soy sauce and noodles fill the air, enough to make her lick her lips. “Oh, you’re eating here?” She’s about to move away from the counter, make some space for him to splay his meal and sit down, when Jaebeom shakes his head, the waves of his hair moving with it.

“We are eating here. I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down since the morning.” Jaebeom starts to get the containers of Chinese food out of their confines, quirking one of his defined eyebrows in the process. He’s tranquil, he always seems to have his life put together. The envy. “You have a twenty-four-hour nightshift?”

“Oh God, no.” She groans at the idea. She already has had enough of those the past month. “I’m here until three. Or, until Dr. Jones decides to arrive.”

Jaebeom hisses at the sound of her voice. “So, until four.”

It’s common knowledge that Dr. Jones forgets to not turn off his alarm. “Thanks, Jaebeom, exactly what I needed.”

Though, he does bring her something she needed, giving her a pair of chopsticks and dragging a plastic chair towards her, just as he sits down. “I’ll wait here until then, if you need to.”

Dermatologists normally don’t have nightshifts. They’re only there if there needs to be some kind of abstraction of sorts. “You don’t have to. Besides, you shouldn’t be here on the first place.” She tells, looking over at his seated position, long legs extended in front of him, wide shoulders making her retreat her vision and glare back at his eyes instead. Concentration is key when dealing with a man like him. “Did you forget something or do you just enjoy to eat surrounded by emergency patients?”

Jaebeom slurps on his noodles, a few spots of soy sauce sprinkling against his lips. “Seventy-three old patient with a black head on her back the size of my index finger. I had to take it out because Dr. Kim is out for her wedding.” The specialist and the doctor in charge of the residency only now had the time to get married, in the middle of July, for fuck’s sake. “It was awesome.”

The gruesome smile on his face has her grinning back at him, aware of not showing her teeth just in case they are filled with vegetables and noodles. “You have some pictures?”

“You can bet I do.”

Jaebeom pushes his seat closer to her, until his robe is caressing the barely covered skin of her shoulder, pushing his phone towards her face to showcase an old, wrinkly back with a black head being extracted. “She said she got it because she couldn’t reach for her back for the last twenty years and did not wash there.”

“Typical.” Trailing her gaze away from his phone, she nudges his side. “Did it hurt?”

“Not that I know of.” Jaebeom replies, looking down at his food when he puts his locked phone face down on his thigh. “Rumor has it I have good hands.”

There is not a single ounce of mischief on his face, not until a longer second of silence finally settles on him when she tries her hardest not to look down at his hand and think of what he is even trying to say.

“Oh, fuck.” Jaebeom chuckles at his own words, borderline cackling when he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I sounded like such a creep.”

“You didn’t.” She replies, trying to conceal the heat on her face. God, she really needs to get her mind out of the gutter. This is her coworker, a fellow doctor— “I happen to have heard that about you.”

Jaebeom tilts his head to the side, half-laughing at her words, as if amused. “You have heard things about me?”

Truth is… “Who hasn’t?”

Jaebeom pulls at some of the noodles with his chopsticks, pensive for a second before plopping them inside his mouth. Not before saying: “What have you heard about me?”

“Half of the hospital is in love with you.” She replies, as easy as possible. The least she can do is let him know that he really does look at good as he thinks he does. “Don’t even get me started on the nurses. I think they have a cult by now. They have started to care about their skincare routines because you told them to. And because they want to look young enough to be by your side.” Most of the nurses at the hospital are over their forties…but who knows? Jaebeom might be into that.

“Really?” He questions, looking down at his food. “I thought they were just being nice.”

“They were,” She accepts. “But they’re doing it because they kind of want to be your MILF’s.”

His nose scrunches up. “That’s a no.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “You never know, Dr. Lim.” She jokes around, only to have Jaebeom expanding his hands in the air, waving them along with the shakes of his head.

“I know one thing and that is that I don’t want those women anywhere near me in that way.”

Attentive of his speech, she hums. “Then, I’ll keep them away from you. I can save lives, what’s one more going to do?”

Jaebeom’s smile tightens at that, resting one hand over her forearm as she chews on her food. “I’ll have to pay you in some way.”

“Oh, no, no—”

“Let me take you back home.”

“You’re not losing hours of sleep just to take me home.”

She had not realized Jaebeom had finished his meal until he placed the empty container back on its plastic bag. “I’ll lose hours of sleep if I let you go home alone at three AM, you know?”

“You sure?” She asks, aware of the shyness in her tone as Jaebeom nods.

“I’ll be your little helper for the next of the shift.”

Somehow, that doesn’t sound so bad.

How can it sound bad when she has practically ogled at the man and swooned at his antics for as long as he has been working here? Perhaps, one year and seven months, even more…

###

He’s a creature of the night, in the way he blends perfectly well with the dark sky, almost colored like the Americano she craves to drink, with his tiredness completely noticeable but still, one with the crickets around him, making a symphony for him. His car is parked in front of her apartment complex, one much better than what she would have imagined—chic, not simplistic at all, coming from his hard work that will only pay off more with the passage of time.

The wind blows on his hair as she pulls her bag over her shoulder, desiring nothing more than to touch her bed, close her eyes and doze off to a world of dreams, white noise and no responsibilities at all. “Jaebeom, thank you so much for everything.” She breathes out into the air, voice lonesome in her approach, unaware of how tired she sounds. “You’re an angel sent straight from heaven.”

“Some say hell, but I’ll take it.” Jaebeom replies quickly, smiling at her with his gums before placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Get inside before it gets too cold.”

“Okay, I will.” She starts to walk towards the door, jotting down the password before looking over her shoulder. “I want to wait until you drive off, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You never know, Jaebeom. You could get into an accident. We’re doctors. We know this happens out of the blue—”

“You can always text me to check if I’m alright.” Lacking his robe, Jaebeom rests his hands on the pockets of his scrubs before sighing. “And if you really want to make sure if I’m doing alright, you can check up on me physically on Saturday. I’m free and my friend just opened a Thai restaurant downtown, so…we could meet there.”

She knows better than to think a one-on-one situation means a date. This could be colleagues having dinner together, just to check up on each other, but Jaebeom is not the type to go out alone with anyone. Not that she knows of, and gossip runs around the hospital far faster than stretcher-bearers should. If Jaebeom had been with one of the interns, the students or a doctor, either no one knew about it or he hadn’t, really.

“Ah…it sounds great.” She opens the door wider, slipping inside. After this, she doesn’t think she’ll have enough balls to wait for him to drive off. “You’ll text me the details and we’ll meet there?”

Jaebeom scoffs at her words. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Are you my chauffeur or what?”

“I’d consider myself your date for Saturday, but who knows?” Jaebeom waltzes towards the car, making her hide behind the door as a chuckle leaves her lips. “Maybe, I should ask one of the nurses.”

“Don’t you dare.” She threatens, lingering with a comedic tone.

“Oh, why?”

“You already asked me.” She replies. “And you have a date on Saturday with me.”

“Atta girl.” Jaebeom finalizes, opening the door of his car just as he waves his hand in the air. “See you at work.”

“See you. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Once she closes the door and walks up the set of stairs, she lets herself close her eyes tightly and squeal.

The Lim Jaebeom had just asked her out on a date. That has to be a golden badge after her drought period. Just as she moves through the stairs, she starts to think through outfits, ideas of conversations, anything that could make her first date in a while worth it, but the thoughts inside her head grow less fond of the silence when someone’s voice pierces through the air once she gets to her floor.

Spread in front of her apartment door, seated there, is Byun Baekhyun. The douchebag in all his glory. His hair is done a mess, he rests his cheek on his knees and he’s calling out her name as his eyes widen. Finally, he straightens his back, standing up in the matter of seconds.

Too polished for a simplistic night, he seems to be, with a white button down tucked inside a pair of lightweight jeans. “Why are you here so late?”

She huffs at his words, grabbing her keys with sloth-like movements before moving towards her door. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Why are you here so late and at my doorstep?”

“I need somewhere to stay.” Baekhyun’s voice sounds somewhat pouty and when she looks over her shoulder, ready to glare at the man with the rounded glasses and messy hair, she sees that he is actually jutting his bottom lip out. And is that panic on his face?

“Ask Chohee.” The reply is simple, tugging at her doorknob before the white door welcomes her apartment. Just as she slips inside, she hears Baekhyun pushing the door before she could close it at his face, but not inviting himself inside fully.

“Please.” He begs, his face far too close as his eyes twinkle with a tinge of sadness. “Chohee is asleep, like a normal person.”

“Ask Chanyeol.”

“He has a girl over.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course, he does,” She mumbles, grabbing her doorframe with her free hand. It’s too fucking late after a nightshift to be dealing with Baekhyun’s dramatics. “Do what The Douchebag would to. Trademark copyrighted and all. Ask to join in and become part of a threesome. Chanyeol is a nice-looking dude and he’s blonde now. Fuckable enough.”

Baekhyun scrunches up his nose at the idea, shaking his head as a shiver goes up his body. “I’d rather have my dick sliced in twenty little bits.”

She raises her eyebrows. Okay, time to play. “I can do that. Medically speaking, if you need me to slice your dick—”

Baekhyun’s shoulders fall then, resting his forehead forward until it almost touches her shoulder. “Okay…” He raises his head then, speaking far too fast for her to comprehend. Typical of him. “Chanyeol set me up on a date and I was dumb enough to ask her to have dinner at my place but she is batshit crazy and she brought wedding magazines over and I didn’t have the heart to kick her out, so I told her I was going to go buy something and I ran away from there.”

Wait.

She tries not to laugh, but the irony of the situation has her tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, pushing him inside when a smile of relief takes over his dulcet face.

“So, you left a complete stranger inside your house?” She asks, plopping her bag down on the floor and moving towards the kitchen to wash her hands. Baekhyun follows suit after taking off his shoes.

“Chanyeol knows her,” He says, as if it’s rocket science. “Besides, I was hoping she’d just go in the morning.”

She hums, rubbing the soap more into her skin. “What time did you tell her you were going to buy something?”

“At nine…”

She gasps at that, looking over her shoulder to see Baekhyun seated by her kitchen counter. “You have been here for six hours?!”

“I didn’t know where else to go!”

Baekhyun may be the life of the party, a socialite through and through, but he can count his friends with the palm of his hand. She knows that. “She’s going to be there tomorrow.”

Baekhyun groans, covering his face. “How do you know that?”

“You’ve given her reasons to be angry, Baekhyun, and she was attached to you already. Now, she’s going to question the root of your relationship and become even more attached because she’ll want to fix what you destroyed and—”

“Oh my God…” Baekhyun trails his voice at that moment, running his fingers through his black locks. “When am I going to have a normal person as a date?”

Cackling, she pats her hands on a towel. The next step is having Baekhyun sleep on the couch, take a quick shower and be off to sleep. “When you become an average person, Baekhyun. You’re just too Broadway for your own good.” She says. “You’ve seen American Psycho? Now welcome Korean Douchebag.”

Though, she still moves towards the living room, opening one of the drawers in her coffee table to grab the blanket she keeps there, just in case. “Says the person that is home at three in the morning.”

Sighing, she remembers the awful nights of working. “I was working since the morning. I had a nightshift, but not a complete one.”

“And you came here all on your own?” Baekhyun must know about her lack of vehicle, because he immediately rests one hand on her shoulder, making her turn around once she has stood up. “That’s dangerous. No one should be out at this hour of the night.”

That reminds her, she should text Jaebeom to see if he’s gotten home safely. “Someone gave me a drive home.”

“Someone?” Baekhyun questions, grabbing the blanket when she tosses it at him.

“Uh-huh.”

“…A guy?”

“Yes, and I’ve got a date with him on Saturday.” She wants to shut out all questions that he may have, pointing towards her couch with an open hand. “You can sleep there until I wake up in the morning. I can’t promise breakfast or a comfier place because you definitely won’t share a bed with me, but it’s warm, at least.” She pauses. “I’ll take a shower and I’m off to sleep—”

“Wait!” Baekhyun says, a sigh ripping from her throat when she turns around to look at him.

“Yes, Baekhyun?”

Standing there, he looks a bit heartbroken, like a puppy after being stepped on or an old man bathed in rain after a car passed by him. Truth be told, Baekhyun is one of the unluckiest lovers she has ever met…and she’s one of them, for all she knows.

“And do you trust him?” He questions, pressing the blanket to his chest. “Doctors are trouble. I mean, Dr. House? Trouble. Derek Shepherd? Trouble. The guy who created Frankenstein? Definitely trouble.”

It seems like someone is worried that she may end up falling for someone who breaks her heart. “Listen, if you mention Dr. House and Derek Shepherd in the same sentence and comparing them to my date, you’re only further enticing me because they’re hot characters.” She shrugs her shoulders, only relaxing when she sees Baekhyun worried expression. “…But yes, I do trust him. I’ve known him for like, two years. He’s caring and serious and sweet. That’s all I have ever wanted on a guy.”

Apart from lack of headaches. She needs the type of love that doesn’t fall into boredom but that doesn’t have unnecessary drama.

“Okay, just…be careful, okay?” Baekhyun asks, and she nods, watching as the man plops down on the couch. “And thank you for not kicking me out.”

Little does he know that she would have never done such thing. “You’re welcome, douche.” She says, turning off the lights after saying her goodbyes with a last: “Sleep tight.”

Though, the light of her phone accompanies her when she types down on her phone:

To: Lim Jaebeom.

Text me when you get home.

Thank you for everything.

If I don’t respond it’s because I have fallen asleep.

And she doesn’t get an answer, at least, not one that she recalls.

###

Nine thirty in the morning and Baekhyun is ready to take off.

Though, his lips remain pursed in concentration, rummaging through her refrigerator for the umpteenth time only to come up with nothing. Seems like she hasn’t done the groceries and hence, he has nothing to prepare for breakfast. Still pretty much knocked out on her bed, Baekhyun doesn’t have the heart to wake her up and take her out for breakfast. Until another time, it may be.

Leaving a note on the coffee table about his whereabouts, he puts on his shoes, extending his arms over his chest once he opens the door to her apartment and closes it behind him. One thought crosses his head at that moment—apart from the quite clear hollow spot in his stomach that begs for food—and it is that he, probably, still has someone in his apartment. A stranger that wants to marry him, and sure, people in his Patreon must feel that same way, or some of them might, but Minjung is a whole another level…

Just as he’s about to take off, the door next to her apartment opens, welcoming the sight of a barefaced Chohee, with her hair high up on her head and a surprised expression on her face.

“Oh, I thought you were—” Just as Chohee is about to say her name, she stops herself. “What are you doing at her place?”

Baekhyun goes over to where Chohee is, resting his hands on the depths of his pockets. “My date decided to plan our wedding ahead and I grew scared, so I left her there and crashed at her place because you were probably asleep.”

“I was,” Chohee rubs her brown eyes then, pointing towards her place. “But I got up early to practice my tarot readings before breakfast.” Baekhyun knows where this is going, and he’s not quite sure he is against it. After all, he doesn’t know what awaits him at his place once he arrives. “Do you want to be my subject? I promise hot cakes and a lot of insight in whatever you want.”

Baekhyun snorts out a laugh. “If you can give me some hindsight on my love life, I promise I’ll be the first one to subscribe to your YouTube channel.”

With one hand placed on her hip, jutted out, Chohee exudes all airs of confidence. “Oh, honey, I can read you like a book.”

Chohee goes all out with decorations. Dreamcatchers in pink, walls a cryptic white, decorations in shades of the most gorgeous pastel colors. There is a pattern and a scheme here, organized to have her tarot space in the living room, with a shelf behind her containing endless stacks of tarot cards packages. Baekhyun is midway through his bite of his honey-coated hot cake when he watches her hands working on shuffling the cards.

“Spirits, what can Baekhyun expect from his romantic life?” Baekhyun can’t help but gape at the choices of words. He will never get used to the word ‘spirits’ whenever Chohee reads him. It’s freaky how she—almost always—gets something right and talks to these invisible creatures. Ghosts? Who knows? “What is Baekhyun’s love story—?” Three cards plop out at that moment, two reversed, one on its original position. Chohee tilts her head to the side, as if deep in thought. “Okay. Spirits, give me two more cards. We need to know Baekhyun’s—” Two more cards come out.

Baekhyun stops munching on the hot cakes, chuckling at Chohee’s expression. “That bad?”

“Horrid.” She explains, fixing the cards into their position. “From what I can see, you’ve met your match already. One of the many soulmates life gives us…” Chohee’s voice trails, as if rearranging her thoughts. “But dude, you fucked it up big time. I get the sense of speech being the source of your match’s disappearance, though not completely, but those feelings train took off long ago. Maybe, you were too silent and unapproachable or too loud and open. I think the latter.” She plays with another card deck, placing it underneath the first line of cards. “There will be a period of separation, but I’m not sure if it will be prolonged. I get an immense sense of indifference? I don’t know, Baekhyun, like she doesn’t care that you’re not together.”

That’s weird. Baekhyun would have never thought of going back to one of his exes. Too much of a hassle. “Is it one of my exes?”

Chohee shakes her head. “No, I think it’s someone you took for granted.”

“I never do that.” Pride swells his chest when he leans back on his chair, legs parted in the process. “I know when to take chances.”

“Not this time. You either get on the ride or it’s taking off without you, Baek.” She rearranges her cards then, clearing her throat.

Curiousness overtakes him. He can’t be the only person in this world who won’t find love, or that has to go back to one of his choices that don’t seem all too factual at this time. He spits out her name, as if it was the second word he learned growing up, and that’s enough to have Chohee frowning.

“I mean, it could be…”

“Not that.” Baekhyun shakes his head. Sure, when they first met, he had initially thought she was one of the greatest looking women he had seen, and he had taken his shot at the time, only to go completely ignored…but that was long ago, and he doesn’t think something would ensue between the two either way. From her part, at least. “What do you see in her reading?”

“Ooh,” Chohee perks up at that, shuffling the cards once again. “Spirits, what do you see in the love story of the second unluckiest person I know in what love consists of?”

Five cards come out almost immediately, taking him by surprise. “Wait, wow—”

“She also lost a match in the past. In her case, it seems like it was ignorance that took part on it.” Her long nail splay on top of one card, he can’t quite recognize it, but Chohee seems interested. “But someone else has come along. Perhaps tired from the eccentricity of past lovers, she wants tranquility…but I see a portion of miscommunication in this partner, too.” She hums in the process, but Baekhyun is long lost in his thoughts. How in the flying fuck is it that the mysterious doctor is the love of her life? Or, at least, one of her soulmates? Sure, she doesn’t believe in tarot, but Baekhyun does…and it’s almost impossible that someone he didn’t even know about is going to be part of her life for longer than intended. “Maybe Jaebeom really is the right choice for now.”

“Jaebeom?”

“The cutest dermatologist I have ever seen. He’s sexy and chic and he has this stare, ugh.” Baekhyun bites his tongue, not wanting to say anything about the fact that there are going out on a date and that, in hindsight, if his stare is enough to have Chohee rolling her eyes back, it may not come as a surprise that she starts dating him, for real.

Why does that bother him?

“And why do you think it’s him?”

Rearranging her cards, Chohee shrugs. “She has a tiny crush on him. Too sly to ever be noticed, but she likes him. She doesn’t do anything to get his attention, though, a complete waste.”

Baekhyun takes one last bite of his hot cakes, rubbing his hands against his pants before standing up. Truth be told, maybe he should stop being a complete douchebag—as she calls him—and take matters on his own hands. Minjung may have been trying to point out to something wonderful and while pushing people away, perhaps speaking too much for his own liking, he has lost the opportunity of living through romance. Hell, the only person he thought he could be sharing his solitude with now has a date and a possible love affair right at the corner.

“Thanks for the food and the existential crisis,” Resting a kiss on top of her head, Baekhyun sighs. “Bye, Chohee.”

The next thing he needs to do is apologize to Minjung.

### 

A ding of her phone accompanies her in the silent Saturday night. The swoosh of the wind against the windows of her apartment makes them creak thanks to their oldness, a reminder to bring a thicker coat with herself to her date, but her phone takes away her attention. Perhaps, Jaebeom wants to change plans, or he’s asking if she is ready for their date.

Lo and behold, she’s wrong about both options. A notification from Patreon takes over her screen when she presses down on it, a written post by Blue Moon taking most of her attention. She hasn’t had enough time to check up on his posts, or replay the ones that she had enjoyed the most. Turns out, life continues to move on its axis and if she does get this date to go somewhere profitable and good, she may not need of Blue Moon anymore.

Her eyes read over the post, surprised to see an emoticon at the end. He always uses those, even when his voice borders the depths of comfort when he speaks. However, her heart picks up at the idea that he is plastering on the post. A collab is coming soon, including a famous rated ASMRtist, and she can’t help but let her eyebrows raise.

Luck exists in some people, inherent to their souls, and though she doesn’t know Blue Moon personally, has not raked her pupils up and down his physique in order to judge him as her type or not, she’s sure she’d like him. Enchanting, somewhat funny, mischievous. Boredom is not part of his vocabulary, and he sounds extremely sweet in the process.

And now, she’ll have to hear her faux, online boyfriend roleplay guy get it on with another girl.

She gets out of the application before she can think any further about it. At the most part, she can just skip it. Someone like Blue Moon obviously gets a lot of people to like him, just from his personality alone, so she has no say in this. She either supports or she doesn’t. Besides, she has more important things to take care of, like Dr. Lim, for example.

To: Jaebeom.

I’m ready.

You can pick me up whenever.

Bring a coat. I think it’s going to be cold tonight.

From: Jaebeom.

I’ll be there in fifteen.

To: Jaebeom.

K. Drive safe.

With the passage of time, and the texts they have shared—as well as meals exchanged between the other—, that contact name will be shortened, perhaps sweeter with time, and that’s the natural movement of things. Who knows? Maybe, she won’t need Blue Moon anymore. She doesn’t seem to do so right now, and it’s probably for the best.

### 

Pieces of heaven sprinkle on his gleaming pupils, holding cups of ice cream on both their hands as they walk up the set of stairs that lead to her apartment. Cladded from head to toe in black, Jaebeom sports an elongated coat on top of a skin-tight sweater and jeans to match. What brightens him up is his smile, the tinges of sunshine in his speech and the pensive look on his face as she speaks to him.

“It’s funny how whenever we see each other, there’s always food involved.” She tells him, spooning the last few bits of her ice cream before plopping them inside her mouth. Jaebeom’s eyes trail down there, licking his own as he takes the empty cup from her hand to stack it up with his own, finished even before they got to her place.

“You reach the heart from the stomach.” Jaebeom instructs, only to have her chuckling in the process.

“Anatomy by Lim Jaebeom, and wronged, at that.” Her reply has a wide smile taking over his features, his eyes turning into half-moons when he nudges her side, grabbing her forearm before she could lose her balance.

“You’re such a perfectionist.” But truth be told, Jaebeom may just be trying to reach her heart through her stomach, just like he says. Two more stairs and they are in her hallway, the man following after her as she speaks.

“No, but seriously, thank you for picking such a good restaurant. I didn’t know your friend could cook so well.”

“Nah, he just owns it. He can’t cook for the life of him, he just has good tastebuds.” Jaebeom replies, just as she’s rummaging through her purse to get her keys out. “We could go there again.”

“Whenever you want. I’m down.” Her voice comes out softer than intended when she gets her keys between her hands, turning around to point at her door. “You want coffee to wash down the ice cream?”

Jaebeom runs his hands through his hair, his slim arms sadly covered by his layers of clothing. “Coffee at this hour?”

“We’re doctors. I think we’ve all had coffee at this hour.”

“True.” Jaebeom replies, giving one step forward before interlocking his hands together in front of him. “But I think I have something in mind that could keep you awake, since you’re so sleepy and bored during this date.”

Oh no, that’s what her words meant. She can practically hear Chohee smacking her in the head for being so goddamned stupid. Of course, drinking coffee means that she wants a caffeine intake, hence she isn’t feeling as energized. God, she should have offered tea—

“That’s not what I meant.” Jaebeom takes one final step towards her, wrapping his arms and hands around her waist to bring her closer, his taut abdomen flushed against hers, chest to chest as he looks down at her features.

He chuckles, his chest shaking with her own. “I know that’s not what you meant…” His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing her jaw, her cheek, before settling on her bottom lip. “I’m just looking for an excuse to kiss you.”

Two years. Two years since the last time she had kissed a man, and even then, her last date’s kissing skills were not the best. Her heart picks up at the idea of touch, craving it because it’s him. The man she likes, or whom she feels attracted to.

“Search no more.” She whispers, resting her hands on each side of his face before pushing herself forward.

Fireworks are not there. They don’t explode right at her face, but tranquility is what she has always looked for. Chilled, relaxed, that’s more of what the kiss is like. Jaebeom takes his precious time to let the finger that was caressing her bottom lip trail down to her neck, grazing the column of her neck before deepening the kiss. Pressed to her door, she grabs him by the front of his shirt, bawling the fabric in between her fingers before she feels a small tug of his teeth against her lips.

He doesn’t take risks. He keeps it simple, sexy, classic. There is not a lot of playfulness, neither does it feel like it has a deeper connection. It is what it is, and that’s about it.

But why does it disappoint her, to certain extent?

He doesn’t say anything. Does not pull away to whisper sweet nothings against her lips, to compliment her or say how much he waited for this. Instead, he keeps kissing, his thigh in between hers, his breath fanning against her skin softly when she runs her fingers through his hair. A raptured moan never makes it out his lips, it rests on the back of his throat and he pushes it down. Bummer.

He pulls away, chest heaving, heart thumping softly while hers is rushing a mile per minute, until he dives in again, her left hand coming behind her to twist the key with as much expertise as she can to get the two of them inside when suddenly, her phone rings.

It’s not a ping. Not a text, but a full-on ring.

Jaebeom pulls away the slightest, stopping his hands on her waist when he says: “Do you want to pick it up?” His voice is hoarse, and even then, it doesn’t reach the depths of her soul. The most she does is make her crave for him, but it doesn’t get past physical need.

“Not really.”

Jaebeom chuckles, scattering kisses along her neck, making her giggle to herself. “Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m not doing anything yet.” The connotations of her voice are clear.

“So, let’s change that.”

When Jaebeom continues kissing her, she expects the phone to stop ringing, but just as the call is over, the contact starts calling again and that is enough to have Jaebeom pulling away again, bloodshot lips swollen from their make-out session, though shortly lived.

“It must be an emergency.” He whispers, and she hums in the process, opening her bag to take her phone out and read the contact’s name.

If someone had seen the devil while being in heaven, this would have been their expression. The one she sports when she sees that, out of all people, Byun Baekhyun is calling her.

He’s the devil. Jaebeom is an angel.

And she’s about to kill him to see if he’ll stay in hell or not.

“What do you want, Baekhyun?” Her voice comes out sharp as she speaks on the phone, sparing one glance towards Jaebeom, but the man is on his phone instead. He doesn’t seem to mind that she’s talking to another man while on their date. He just can’t be this chilled out, right?

Baekhyun has never sounded so serious, but he does at that moment. “I’m in the ER but I won’t get checked if it’s not with you.”

Her heart picks up for whole different reasons, straightening her back as she imagines all the horrible possibilities that could encounter Baekhyun in the emergency room. Her workplace. “Wait, why? Why are you in the ER? Is everything okay?”

“Would I be calling if everything was okay?” Baekhyun whispers for one second, awfully close to a voice she has heard, but she can’t quite pinpoint it when she is already strutting down the hallway, followed by Jaebeom calling her name and trailing after her step. “I broke something.”

“You broke something? Be more specific, douchebag.” Though, she fears what he could have broken. Was he in an accident of sorts?

“My fingers, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t want anyone to see me if it’s not you.” He hisses in the process. “It really hurts and I know you are in your date, but I think I’m about to die.”

Well, there goes the date to welcome Baekhyun’s dramatics. She doesn’t know why she entertains him, or why she is worrying so much. “I’ll be there in a few. Just…stay still and don’t scream or cry or anything like that.”

“Okay—”

She cuts off the call before Baekhyun could continue, running down the set of stairs as Jaebeom repeats her name.

“What happened?”

“One of my closest friends is in the ER and he’s stubborn, so he wants me to check up on him.” She looks over her shoulder at that moment, though briefly, an apology in her voice. “Jaebeom, I know this is not what you expected out of your date, but could you drop me off at the ER?”

A sigh rips from his throat, dangling his car keys in between his hands before humming. “Sure, let’s go, workaholic.”

When down the set of stairs, she presses a short kiss to his lips. No spark, but favorable in feeling. “Thanks, Beom.”

A new contact name arises.

###

Never had she expected to be in this position, holding a folder with Baekhyun’s information as she drags the blue curtains of his small consultation room open. Jaebeom trails right behind her, pulling the curtains closed when Baekhyun lifts his gaze, half-laying on the bed as if his entire body was writhing in pain and it wasn’t only his fingers.

Truth be told, worry overtook her with his call and on the way here. Calling him ‘one of her closest friends’ to Jaebeom had been quite the surprise, too. Never had she thought of Baekhyun in that light—he has always been the one that would never grow up out of the group, but now it seems to be completely different. Maybe, he’s that one leech she won’t ever be able to take away, or she actually enjoys having him suck up blood every once in a while. Metaphorically speaking, he’s just fun to be around.

“Okay, tell me the story and show me your fingers.”

Baekhyun is still looking at Jaebeom, scrutinizing each portion of him with squinted eyes. “Shouldn’t the consultation be private or do my fingers need a dermatologist?” Truth be told, she doesn’t think they do. When Baekhyun extends his left hand, she touches his index and middle finger, barely grazes them in their elongated yet reddened glory, and he hisses in the process.

Jaebeom places one hand on her back. “I think I’ll see myself off.”

She looks over her shoulder, shaking her head. “No, we can continue the date after if you want to.”

“I’m tired and I’m not sure if I want to be working at this hour.” Jaebeom finalizes, ready to finish the date, before he rests a kiss on the crown of her head, bowing his head towards Baekhyun. “Hope you get better, man.”

“Yeah, I sure hope I do.” Baekhyun is never this sharp with his words, but as it seems, he’s not in a good mood. When she tries to flex his fingers, they do. They’re not broken, that’s for sure, every portion of his phalanges feel as though they are in place.

“What happened to you, Baekhyun?” A rosy tone takes over his features when she asks that question, sitting up when a small whine leaves his lips as she continues to bend his fingers, testing their movements.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m a doctor now, of course, I need to know.” She tells him, pulling away and opening the folder to check through his information. “And for the embarrassment you pulled me through by both telling everyone in this ER that you wouldn’t consult yourself if it wasn’t with me and ruining my date, I need to know.”

As she’s checking the X Rays, she sees Baekhyun’s fingers, perfectly put in place, definitely not broken. It may be a strain or a tendinitis, it depends on what he was doing. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Could’ve been your dick that was hurting. That would have been embarrassing.” She tells him, trying to ease into his mind before sighing deeply, putting the X Rays down and looking into his eyes. Baekhyun looks like he had gotten ready in a hassle, gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt covering his body. Slippers, too. “Baekhyun, I won’t judge you. I really won’t. I’ve seen worse things. I can promise you this is nothing.”

Baekhyun looks over to the side, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose before clearing his throat. “I was with the date I talked to you about…Minjung…” He trails his voice, and she already knows where this is going. This is definitely a sex emergency. “And I don’t know, well, I do know. I was using my fingers…” Baekhyun covers his face, and she tries to stifle her laughter. Oh, she definitely knows where this is going. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.” Though, a small chuckle follows after her statement, enough to sneak a smile away from Baekhyun.

“You sound like you’re laughing.”

“That’s just my voice.”

“You never laugh, what are you talking about?”

“Just tell me what happened.”

Baekhyun winces when he pushes his hands onto his face a little too harshly, left to look up at the ceiling as splotches of red and pink come up from his neck towards his face. Beet red. “It was supposed to be just me fingering her but…uh, she was a little too harsh and she wanted to ride my fingers, and I guess she jumped too hard and broke them.” He closes his eyes tightly, pursing his lips just at the same time that cackles leave her own. “Tell me they’re not broken. I don’t want to have broken fingers, please, it hurts a lot.”

“They’re not broken, douchebag.” There it is. The perfect title, but this time around, the douchebag was the one being played. She takes a pen from the table next to the stretcher. Clicking on it, she starts to write down the diagnosis. “I think you strained a ligament, that’s all. None of your bones are out of place and I don’t feel any substantial difference on your muscles. You can still bend your fingers and they are not particularly swollen. I’ll give you some medicine for that and I need you to ice it for as much as you can. Exercise them, too.” Though, she stops herself at that moment. “Just no fingering, okay? Keep those fingers for yourself.”

“Stop laughing.” He differentiates every word with a punctuation, and she smiles up at him.

“Why are you still seeing her, though?” She slides the prescription towards him, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear when she looks at him. “You said she was too pushy and you didn’t like it. I’m sure you can get other women to finger.”

“I said stop it!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” She rests his folder on his thigh, getting closer to him to speak in a softer manner. This is her patient and she can’t out what he had told her as so. “Baekhyun, really, stop seeing her—”

“I’m not telling you to stop seeing Dr. Fancy Eyes over there.” Baekhyun juts his chin towards the curtain. “Maybe, I just gave Minjung another chance because everyone has someone and I want to have someone, too.”

Handsome comes short for what she thought Baekhyun was when they met each other. She was twenty at the time, in Chohee’s birthday party, trying t stifle her laughter when he made a fool of himself in front of her. He was drunk, clearly, dancing and swinging his hips in the air as he spoke to her in the most typical of manners. They were younger then, and while she had grown—become more somber and serious with the day, Baekhyun still kept that lively personality of his, matched with some sprinkles of weightiness here and there. She can always count on him for a good stifled laugh.

“Okay, valid. You can keep seeing her if you want to.” She tells him, pointing at his hand with her pen. “But just take care of that, okay?”

She’s about to send him off when Baekhyun reaches for her forearm with his non-injured hand. When she turns around, Baekhyun’s face is serious, void of any of his usual jokester manners.

“Are you sure you’re into him?”

That question is unexpected coming from Baekhyun. At this age, she knows what she wants, but she isn’t sure if Jaebeom ticks off all the squares in her bucket list. “He’s nice. The spark is there.” She lies through her teeth. “He’s a doctor, so he’ll understand me better than anyone else…I think he’s great. And hot.”

Baekhyun nods in the process before sighing. “Haven’t you heard that you shouldn’t date doctors?”

“I have.” She says. “Mostly from you, for some reason, but I’d still do it.”

“Just look at Lee Jinki’s character in Descendants of the Sun—”

“Baekhyun, you give some examples that just make me want to date a doctor more.”

The man gets off the stretcher, standing in front of her before whispering: “He just looks like more of a douchebag than I am. I’m just protecting you.”

That voice. It sounds oddly like Blue Moon when he lowers his voice the slightest, and for some reason, she cringes at the thought. Yeah right, as if she could daydream and go to sleep to the sound of Baekhyun’s voice—

“He’s a nice guy.”

“He looks like he asks for blowjobs on the first date.”

“That’s up to me to decide.” Swinging her hips from side to side, she opens the curtains, only to hear Baekhyun scoffing from his spot.

“Please, not with him. He’s not the kind of person I imagine you with—”

“If you could get your crazy fingers inside someone and interrupt my date to save you, I can do as I please.” Playing around with Baekhyun is funnier than expected, much more when his face falls at those words, turning around to look at him. “Now, give me the keys of your car to drive us to a pharmacy to buy everything we need and then, we’ll stay at my place just so I can check up on you.”

Baekhyun tosses his keys towards her, trusting her with his car completely, and she can’t help but smile. The only man she thought she’d have over tonight was Jaebeom, but turns out that the one who stayed home was Baekhyun.

How ironic life is.

###  

Three weeks have passed since the last time she saw Baekhyun and she can say one thing…

Life is a little bit more boring without the man.

It’s funny how the complexity of their friendship is misunderstood, even by herself. When he’s there, she likes to annoy him—and he sure does back—, but when he’s gone, she misses him. Sure, she will never say it out loud, but she finds herself smiling at the thought of jokes that Baekhyun had let out in the air between them. Hence why she rushes towards Chohee’s apartment when seeing his car parked in front of her apartment complex.

She really needs to get a car for herself, she thinks on the way there. Stop procrastinating and become a full-on adult instead of taking the bus every time, but the thought washes away from her brain by the time she knocks on the door and it’s opened by Baekhyun himself.

As always, he’s wearing glasses, vision ruined as it can get, with his black hair messily falling over his forehead. This time around, he’s sporting a rose gold sweater to frame his nicely shaped hips, masculine and defined, just like his thighs. And just when she catches herself looking at his legs, she pushes her gaze to go up. A smirk is already plastered on his face.

“Look who’s here.” He says, opening the door wider for her to enter, but she shrugs her shoulders while passing by him.

“Look who is here,” She repeats, sparing him a glance over her shoulder when he closes the door. “Chohee better get some insecticide for all the cockroaches hanging around in her apartment. All the freaking time.”

Baekhyun crosses his arms over his chest, and since when has Baekhyun sported such a nice body? “You said cockroaches. I’m one cockroach, meaning that we’re a little family over here. And you’re in her apartment, too. So, shame is on you, you called yourself an insect.”

“Don’t get smart on me, douchebag—”

Chohee merges from the kitchen, holding a tray filled with cups of tea. “Don’t tell me you’re starting with your arguments this early on.” Right behind her, her bleached blonde boyfriend emerges. Haesol is a biology teacher, much different from what one would imagine from him, with thick glasses and oversized clothes, in love with someone who believes in everything spiritual but nothing physical. Couples have to be totally different in order to be together, at times. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, let me brew you another cup of tea.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She waves her hand towards Haesol. “Haesol, you’re alive!”

“Questionable. Depends on what reality you’re living.”

“Or if we’re living at all.” Continuing with his train of thought, she splays herself next to Baekhyun, who has taken a seat in front of the coffee table with the tray of tea in between his hands. “Sorry I invited myself inside. I was missing you guys.”

Haesol properly sits on the couch, while Chohee excuses herself to go look for some cookies. “It’s okay. You help me accompany Chohee when I’m not here, after all.” In somewhat of a long-distance relationship, she doesn’t know how Haesol and Chohee do it. He lives two hours away, but given to his job, he can’t always drive back here.

“I’m the one that checks up on her.” Baekhyun instructs, taking a sip of his tea after giving Haesol his own cup. “She is never here. She says the incense makes her have allergies.”

“It’s too strong!” I reply, nudging his side before I see him holding his cup with his injured hands. “How are your fingers doing?”

“Great.” Baekhyun replies, a glimmer of blush appearing on his cheeks. “They’ve healed and I haven’t strained them any further.”

“Good.”

“Wait, you know what happened to Baekhyun’s fingers?!” Chohee peeks her head from the kitchen, her bangs falling across her eyes until she moves them away. “He hasn’t told anyone.”

The beam that appears on her features is almost unable to be stopped. Truth be told, she’s not entirely sure if she supports the baggage that comes with Minjung as Baekhyun dates her, but that moment of his life will always be funny to her.

“I do.”

“Don’t you dare tell her.” Baekhyun nudges her side, the scent of him taking over her, musky and mellow. Not too strong for her sensitive nose.

“Why can’t we know?” Haesol asks from his spot, as tranquil as ever, just as Chohee takes the seat beside him. A pillow for her, the kind of tranquil love she has ever wanted, with how he places his arm behind her neck for her to lay on.

She spares one look at Baekhyun. Bright. Shining. Explosive. He’s all the emotions at once, some that she can’t even comprehend and she doesn’t mean to find them out.

“I was his doctor, so I can’t really tell you.” She grabs his hand then, bringing his injured fingers up to her lips and planting a soft kiss on them. “I’d die before compromising these two fingers. You won’t ever get the secret out of me.”

The smile that appears on his face is compliant, wrapping his fingers around hers and giving a small tug before pulling away. “You heard her.”

Chohee sighs deeply, munching on her cookie before shaking her head. “Guys, keep fighting. I don’t think I can stand you two being real, normal friends.”

But maybe, the warmth that spreads on her stomach says otherwise. Being Baekhyun’s friend is not half bad when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes that way, as if his trust on her is never-ending.

###

The pressure of a new relationship’s happy ending is the worst nightmare to ever exist, much more when it feels nonexistent. The covers of Jaebeom’s mattress curl on each side of her face when she is laid down on it, her jacket long thrown on the floor, but what’s important here is the lack of movement. Even when Jaebeom does his best to enthrall her in a kiss, to wrap her up in his engulfing warmth when hovering over her, with his taste becoming one with her own, lemon chap-stick a memory that has long engraved in her brain…they’re stuck in the same position. In the same ‘we are but we aren’t’ dilemma that she is tired of living.

This would have been precious for her when she was younger. With his fingertips scalding the skin of her waist as he tries to pull her shirt away from her body. Boring, it longs to be, with the way attraction keeps them as just that. Just two people who find the other appealing for their bodies, but nothing else…and she doesn’t want that. The only thing she aches for in a partner is having a friend who listens to her but can also make her feel endlessly loved. And vice versa, of course.

Just as a sweet whisper of her name rests on her ear, giving her promises of what may come tonight, her mind goes back to the person she would wish to have hovering above her right now. Making her laugh, perhaps annoying her to bits, but still keeping that handsome face of his intact. Fogged-up glasses, certain fingertips and a lightweight persona. Though Jaebeom does an incredible job at bringing the moon down to this bed with his seriousness and overall concentration, it doesn’t feel like love.

It doesn’t get her going.

Maybe, she just needs a bit more time, needs to feel more of him or let herself be kissed by him, but then again, Byun Baekhyun comes and fucks it all when appearing inside her head. In just at this moment, and she doesn’t understand why. She captures Jaebeom by the cheeks, lowering him down to her mouth to enrapture him in a kiss, but it doesn’t matter how many times she shakes her head or tries to melt her tongue with his, Baekhyun still glimmers as a memory of the unknown inside her head.

What is he doing here?

Her mind must have taken up his name, caressed it in between thoughts and daydreams, because by the time Jaebeom’s hand is on her thigh, lifting it up to hook it around his waist, she breathes out anything but his name.

“Baekhyun—”

Wait.

What?

Her eyes widen, much more at the time that Jaebeom leans back on his thighs. A scoff leaves his lips when he lifts his eyebrows, an awkward smile taking over his features. “Baekhyun?”

“Jaebeom, I’m so sorry—” She tries to spit out, reaching for his shoulder just at the same time that Jaebeom stands up.

“That’s your friend, right?” He asks, earning a nod from head. She doesn’t know why she’s thinking of Baekhyun in such a light lately—the last time that she had thoughts like these about him was when they first met. It’s horrid to see one of her closest friends in such a manner when she’s about to get it on with whom she thought could be the other half of her next relationship. He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Any valid reason why you just called me his name?”

Pushing her shirt up her body once again, she shrugs. “I didn’t mean it. It just happened—”

“You’re thinking about him.” Jaebeom reads her thoughts far too easily. Perhaps, she had let him see the biggest glimpse of it. “And if he’s the one that you want, I can’t do this.” He lifts his eyes to the dark ceiling, the navy walls blending with his dark attire.

What? One thing is coincidentally thinking about Baekhyun. Another thing is wanting him.

“I don’t want Baekhyun. He’s like a friend to me. Just friends.”

“Yeah, so why does he stay at your place whenever he has an issue?” Shit. Maybe, that does sound a bit wrong. As it turns out, Jaebeom doesn’t out his anger, remaining stoic as he speaks. “And why is he the one person you always talk about when you think of something funny? Why is it that you just said his name as we were on my bed—?”

Speechless, she licks her lips, standing up from the bed and taking her jacket in between her hand. “Because maybe, I’m just confused.” She replies, clearing her throat when she stands in front of him. Beauty grazes him, but he doesn’t feel like the man that will cause her butterflies for the rest of her life. “It doesn’t…it doesn’t feel like love with you, Jaebeom and I think that’s not really what you want, so it’s better if we leave it like this. I can’t…I thought I wanted tranquility, but I don’t want deafening silence, either.”

Jaebeom crosses his arms across his chest, looking over to the side, jaw pronounced in a sharp line. “Maybe, you’re comparing me to someone else.” He says. “Not to misunderstand me, I get you…it’s up to you to choose what you want in a man and if it’s me who you want, but…it’s difficult not to believe there is something else with Baekhyun.”

Shaking her head, she huffs. “We’re just friends. I tell you, I don’t know why he was inside my head—”

“You were thinking of another man as I kissed you, that has to be enough of an answer for you.”

It can’t be. Denial creeps up on her when she laughs, taking her purse in between her fingers and tossing it over her shoulder. “Think what you will. I think it’s better if I leave.”

Jaebeom nods, pushing his lips together just as she presses a kiss to his cheek. The touch is barely there, soft in comparison to the kisses they shared. “It was great having you, even for a moment.” He tells her, and she hums.

“Shortest moment of my life.” She replies. “But a good one, indeed.”

By the time she is out the apartment complex, her skin is bitten by the harsh wind, left in a part of the city much too far away from her home. She starts walking on wobbling legs, cursing the moment she decided to wear stylized heels to make her thighs look better, only to end up ruining it by calling Baekhyun’s name. Sure, it was clear that things with Jaebeom weren’t going anywhere, lukewarm, pointless and based in attraction only, but what was Baekhyun doing inside her head while she was getting it on.

Or almost, consequently.

The first person she decides to call is Chohee, but she’s staying at Haesol’s place for the weekend. She keeps walking, rummaging through her contact list, getting hold of some of her friends and getting denied equally. Sure, it’s Sunday, but most people should be home by now—

The letter ‘B’ surprises her then, and perhaps it’s the obsession of not wanting to continue walking and create blisters on her feet, but she calls him. Dials Baekhyun’s phone without a single ounce of guilt within her body, because it’s Baekhyun, he probably won’t answer—

“Douchebag on line, what can I help you with?”

“Mhm, things with Jaebeom are over…” She tries to avoid telling unnecessary details, tugging her pink coat closer to her chest. “And I’m in the middle of the street, away from home, cold and hungry. So, if you’re available…could you come pick me up? I can call a taxi if you’d like.”

“That asshole.” He breathes out, not knowing the complete story and how, in retrospect, she is the asshole in this story. “Don’t you dare call a taxi. Is there any store around?”

Her eyes scan the street before landing on a convenience store. Opened twenty-four hours. “Yes, a convenience store.”

“Good, stay there and tell me the address. I’ll be there in no time.”

###

He can’t physically understand it. Not a single braincell inside Baekhyun’s brain can’t begin to comprehend why someone would simply end a date with her when she looks good enough to break hearts.

Wrapped up tightly in a blanket, she brings the mug of hot chocolate he had prepared for her up to her lips, staring towards the screen as a new episode of The Rookie takes her attention away from him. Truth be told, Baekhyun was in the middle of a recording when she had called—thus, she wouldn’t know Sundays at night are the times he uses to record—, but he couldn’t bear to imagine how Dr. Lim, Dr. Fancy Eyes, Lim Jaebeom, could even think of finishing a date with the one woman that did not even blink at the sight of him.

Well, there are a handful that can’t stand him…but still, Baekhyun doesn’t know what Jaebeom was thinking.

“What happened—?”

Shame takes over her features when she munches on one of the small marshmallows that accidentally slip through her lips. A glare later and the few seconds of silence that follow after, he knows the answer she has repeated endless times since she has gotten here. “I won’t tell.”

With that, Baekhyun plops himself down harsher on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest just after fixing the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Sure, she may look like a daydream on his brown couch and blend perfectly well with the warmth of his home, but that doesn’t give her the benefit to do what she pleases in his house. “It’s just kind of stupid that I picked you up, drove you all the way here, made you hot chocolate, let you thirst over Tim on the screen and you don’t even dare tell me what happened between you and Dr. Douchebag.”

She quirks an eyebrow at that, sighing in the process. “I am Dr. Douchebag. Not him.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I get to be an ass sometimes, Baek.”

“Yes, but only to me.” He looks at her from the corner of his eyes, spreading both his hands behind his neck as he sighs through his nose. “You don’t have to tell me, you know.” His voice lowers, the same tone he uses when he is in the solitude of his home and records himself, trying to make others happy. Pathetic, ain’t it? “…But it’d be nice to know. The least I want is for you to suffer like I have,” He stops himself for a moment, giving her half a smile, no teeth. “And it sucks, to trust someone and have it once again not be the person you want or deserve, but you’re so beautiful inside and out that I truly think it’s his loss.”

Sure, he could tell anyone that she’s gorgeous. Plenty of times had he talked to Chanyeol about how adorable her smile was and how she could have him at her mercy with one twinkle of her eyes, but that’s not something he had told her since that night when they were twenty and he was a little bit tipsy.

She swears he was drunk, but he wasn’t. Vivid enough for him to tell the truth.

“It’s not his loss.” Her voice whispers, husky from lack of use. “Jaebeom is just…too tranquil. It’s good, but it’s not what I want. We can’t let relationships flow all the time. Sometimes, we have to take reigns. I need to stop wanting tranquil, voiceless, silent…because a love that is silent is a love that is not truly felt.” She scoffs at that moment, taking another sip of her drink. “I wish I was like you.”

His palm rests on her forehead, as if testing her fever. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what did you do with my friend?”

Finally, he steals a smile out of her, dizzy in the way she looks at him from below her eyelashes. “You have always been so honest about the people you like or love. Who you want to have sex with, who you want to date, who you’d marry…you always say it all and you let them know. You’ve gotten your heart broken, but you always cut ties first.” That way, he knows exactly just how wrong she is. Baekhyun has told everyone what he thinks, but not to her. He has never told her just how in love he is with the memories they have shared. In which he has made a fool of himself but still managed to get a smile out of the most serious woman he knows. “The first time I cut ties with someone is because I feel nothing for him.”

“You felt nothing for Jaebeom?”

“Obvious attraction, but who doesn’t?” She shrugs. “Look me in the eye and tell me the man doesn’t have the most gorgeous eyes you have seen.”

Those would be hers, but Baekhyun shakes his head. “Sorry. Got lost from the moment you told me you felt nothing for Jaebeom because those are the best news I’ve heard the past century.”

A chuckle leaves her lips. “Why?”

“He’s flavorless.”

“Totally not.”

“Totally yes.” Baekhyun corrects, playing around with the remote, given that they are not catching up on the episode anyways. “I always imagined you with someone better.”

“Yeah? I always imagined you with a hot ass girl with anime tits.”

“A-Men.” Baekhyun parts the word in two syllables, lifting his hands in the air as if to pray for it just to steal laughter away from her. “You take me as a boobs man only, right?”

“Scarlett Johansson told me so.”

“I look at other things apart from boobs.” Baekhyun says, shrugging in the process. “Even if they are not there, I can like someone.”

“Like what?” She asks, turning on her side and taking another sip of her drink. Cream gathers on her upper lip, and he takes the edge of the blanket to pass it over it to clean it up.

“Intelligence. Rationality. Profoundness. I want a woman who looks like she could never rule the world but has everyone under the sole of her feet. Including me, of course.” Baekhyun’s face is far closer to hers than intended, licking his lips when he looks into her eyes. “I want a woman who laughs at what I say but also knows that I’m more than just a joke on legs.”

Her eyes trail all over his features, before saying: “Those who don’t notice it, don’t know you.” She claims. “You’re far sweeter than you let yourself be known for.”

“Because I talk about tits and I make the magic leave?”

“Kind of.” She replies, a chuckle in her tone. “…And because you don’t realize just how great you are, so you go for whatever woman you think matches you. And you’re wrong. You only deserve the best.”

Heated up to the core of his heart, Baekhyun sighs. “Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

“I might check. I’m giving compliments to the biggest douchebag I know.” She takes the last sip of her drink before smiling. “Or maybe, I just took your spot and I’m the biggest bitch now.”

Baekhyun pats her head, shaking his own in the process. “Say it. The baddest bitch.”

“I prefer to be the cutest bitch.”

“The most intelligent bitch I know.” Baekhyun replies, pushing himself away when a second too long of silence settles between the two. His hands end up on his waist, extending and flexing his back in order to ease his muscles. “Finish watching the episode while I go prepare the guest’s room for you tonight.”

And with that, he tries to control the beating of his heart. He knows better than to go back to some stupid, childish crush.

### 

Turns out that romance is complicated. It either speaks in screamed words or unintelligible whispers, but it’s never going to be any easier. She thought, for once, that going with the flow would bring her happiness and now, she can’t even face Jaebeom without feeling guilt creeping up on her, as well as embarrassment. They are colleagues, after all, and maybe, making out with him for hours to no end leaves little room for her not to think about it happening…but the worst part of it all is when romance starts to go crazy, randomizes a person and then, it settles them inside her heart.

Never would she have thought that she’d think of Baekhyun in such a light that she’d find herself smiling at the thought of him, texting him with more frequency and spending more and more time with him. Never would she have thought that there would come a day that she goes to sleep so fulfilled with the life she has, even when they are nothing, that she would not need Blue Moon—who, coincidentally, sounds a lot like Baekhyun, and maybe, that’s why she was so into him—. She doesn’t need someone to lull her to sleep, because she’s tired of the complete days she’s having. With friends, with work and most importantly, with peace for the decisions she has taken in life.

So, it comes easily to her to hover over that button, staring at nights spent with someone whom she doesn’t really know…and she doesn’t want to listen to anymore. After all, the romantic thoughts inside her head are taken by Byun Baekhyun, and she still has to fix that, because that definitely won’t go anywhere…so, it’s better to start by something easier.

Are you sure you want to cancel your subscription to Blue Moon’s channel?

Accept.

###

Within a month, she already feels like she’s losing her mind.

Why the fuck did she start crushing on Baekhyun?

The tones of the city remain as gray as ever, polished by concrete and the movement of people in monochromatic clothes, but in between what she knows—what she has grown accustomed to, there is some light. Seated by the glassed windows of the small café Chohee likes to frequent once Haesol is around town is this one man that beams with happiness, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. His back hunches in relaxation, toying with the straw on his cup of coffee. She knows it probably has too much caffeine and sugar for his slim, toned body, but there is nothing that ever stops Baekhyun from getting the same order. In between brown woodened tables with red tablecloths, he shines the most, sporting his favorite yellow hoodie, one to match his best friend’s bleached blonde hair.

Haesol finally manages to find his phone, patting his hand against the pocket of his red cardigan until Chohee cuts through the air, interrupting whatever he was meaning to say.

“Not so bad looking when you stop calling him a douchebag, isn’t he?”

Those words take her off guard, putting her hands up her chest as if to protect her heart. Chohee is gleaming, holding onto her boyfriend’s arm as they stand on the other side of the street, covering the sidewalk with their bodies. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.” Chohee confirms. “…You’ve accidentally reignited the old flame Baekhyun and you had the first night you met at my birthday party and now you realize that all that banter throughout the years was undying sexual tension?”

“Banter does not equal sexual tension,” She reports, lifting her index finger in the air. “That’s a wronged conceptualization of romance aiming to make people believe that love can only be fueled if there are arguments.”

“…You two don’t really argue.” Chohee shrugs her shoulders, pushing her long hair behind them. “You just play argue. You like calling him a ‘douchebag’ because it gives you a reaction and a reason not to fall for him. You’ve done it for years because you’re attracted to Baekhyun and it’s easier to believe that opposites don’t attract.”

Haesol tugs at his girlfriend’s arm, pulling her with him to cross the street. She follows right after the couple. “Honey, I don’t think you should be psychoanalyzing the situation. They’re both adults and she should know how to act up on her crush.”

Huh, for someone who is so quiet he can barely be heard, Haesol has some bite to his tongue.

“I am not crushing on Baekhyun.”

Chohee looks over her shoulder once they are at the entrance of the café. “Right,” She drags her voice, sarcasm dripping from every tone. “Because you’re in love with him.”

“Chohee, let it go.” Haesol reasons, opening the door to the café just as she scoffs.

“I am not in love with him. He’s a douchebag. He’d leave me with whoever has a bigger cup size than me, wouldn’t he?”

She knows he’s wrong. Baekhyun is not as stupid as she has tried to paint him out to be.

Which is why she tugs at the collar of her coral blouse upon seeing him waving his hand at her, dragging himself on his seat to make space for her. The way his hair, disheveled as always, curls against his forehead has her wanting to run her fingers through it, calm him down after a stressful day in a job she knows he doesn’t want, but before she could give him a smile—awkward, albeit—, Chanyeol captures his attention by showing him his phone and his grin practically erases off his face.

Weird.

By the time she gets closer to the duo, she gets a glimpse of their conversation. “Chanyeol, I won’t go out on a date ever again—”

“I’m not telling you to go out on a date with Minjung, but we need to find someone with a good fanbase to make some roleplay recordings with.”

The world stops for a few seconds. Actually, it feels like years have passed by right in front of her eyes when she realizes just what Chanyeol has freed into the world. It can’t be possible that the recurrent thought of how alike Blue Moon and Baekhyun sounded could be true. After all, Baekhyun wouldn’t be able to record himself and do boyfriend roleplays just because he feels like it. It shouldn’t—

Everyone has seated on the table, but she stays upright, finally returning to her senses when she awkwardly laughs. “Roleplay recordings?”

Baekhyun hums in the process, giving a small nod as his ears tinge in red. “Well, I need a bit more money and I started a Patreon account, where I do boyfriend roleplays. People want me to expand to rated stuff, but I don’t know, I’m iffy about it.” That’s the moment she lets her guard fall entirely. He doesn’t know it, but embarrassment takes all over her body. All this time, her mind had connected with the same man in different occasions, enough to have her shaking her head when she gives one step back. “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal. Do you find it weird?”

“You were Blue Moon?” Her voice comes out in a whisper, suddenly unaware of the people around her, when Baekhyun’s eyes widen by being caught, opening his mouth and closing it subsequently, babbling to find his voice.

“I—I was…” He says. “We—Were you a subscriber?”

“Oh my God,” She gasps to herself, placing her hands on top of her face to cover her eyes. “Oh God, I just did not subscribe to your Patreon without absolutely having no idea for months.”

Baekhyun chuckles awkwardly, lifting his hand to rub the nape of his neck. “I think you did.”

“I have to get out of here.” Aware of her embarrassment, she moves towards the door, hearing Baekhyun’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Wait, no. It’s okay! I just—It’s flattering!”

“For you, definitely not for me.” She replies, turning around just as she opens the door to the café, sparing him a glance before groaning deeply. “Shit, how couldn’t I notice that the similarities were there?”

“I guess you didn’t really think I would go for a job like that.” Baekhyun gives a gummy smile, biting his bottom lip soon after. “Can we just talk about this—?”

“Sorry, Baek.” Shaking her head, she clears her throat soon after. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this right now.”

With that, she closes the door behind her, perhaps choosing to ignore all opportunity she has had with Baekhyun, but what is she supposed to do? Admit the crush that she grew both on a faceless man speaking sweet nothings into her ear and her friend? It’s too much turmoil for just one afternoon.

###

Another card ends up under her boot when she steps inside her apartment. The thirteenth one since the last time she saw Baekhyun, coming daily for thirteen days straight. She’ll give it to him, the man is smart enough to keep her on the edge with these cards, but each and every single time, she folds them over and places them in her coffee table’s cabinet, there for her to read once she doesn’t feel like the world is falling on top of her.

It’s horrid. Awkward. Awful in a lot of ways. She can’t look at him in the eye and suddenly tell him that his voice was the one that calmed her down in so many nights but that past that, his personality was the one that captured her whole, made her dream of him and think him into her life as a memory she never wants to get rid of. For fuck’s sake, she lost the opportunity of having something with Lim Jaebeom just because she was absolutely head over heels for Baekhyun.

Her friend.

The douchebag.

When, all along, she has been the douchebag in everyone’s life.

Just when she closes her door behind her, she hears a thud and a whine following soon after. That timbre of voice makes her turn around, sparing a glance towards the door before peeping through the peephole. Much to her lack of delight—though, some relief washes over her—Baekhyun is standing by the door, wearing that terrible turquoise chemise that he uses for work and somehow, not angered that she has probably bruised his face when he holds the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb.

“Ouch!” He hisses, pulling his fingers away and sighing in relief when there is no blood. “You know, I know the ER is the best place to find you, but I’m not sure I want to break or strain any other part of my body.”

A smile appears on her face, though she tries to push it down, resting her forehead against the door as if that manages to make her get closer to him. “Baekhyun, what are you doing here?”

“Getting injured, apparently.” Baekhyun huffs out in annoyance, letting go of his nose to splay his hand on top of the door. She swears she hears his palm softly hitting the surface. “…I kept pushing notes under your door for the past thirteen days and I thought you were ignoring them, but you didn’t even read them on the first place.”

She’s not the best of people, what can she say? But it’s stupid to believe Baekhyun would ever feel anything back for her. They are total opposites, and he has already spoken about what he wants in life to her. He wants someone serious, intelligent, put-together. She’s a mess of misconceptions and unspoken words.

“I don’t want to get attached, Baekhyun.” She says, turning around to look towards the rest of her apartment, with her back leaning against the door. “I subscribed to Blue Moon because I wanted to feel less lonely. Well, I subscribed to you…and I spent months wishing I had someone like him, and then, I questioned why I wanted someone like you. Why, when being with Jaebeom, I could only think of you and only pushed him away by comparing him to how much flavor and spice and humor you brought into my life…” Her voice becomes distant, heat flaring around her face when she clears her throat. “And I painted a sky for me when I didn’t even know if you wanted to be a star in it. I suddenly realized just how stupid I was for thinking I had a chance, with Blue Moon or with you.”

Baekhyun stays silent for a few seconds, trying to twist the doorknob to no avail. “You really haven’t read the notes, have you?”

She sighs. “You don’t know how embarrassing it is to be in my position. I like you, Baekhyun. Fuck, if I want to be with someone, it’s with you and it’s pathetic—”

“Check the goddamned notes.” He says, calling out her name soon after. “If there’s someone who knows perfectly well how pathetic you feel, it’s me and truthfully, there’s no reason to.”

“You’re just saying it because you’re my friend.”

“No, I’m saying it as me. As Baekhyun. As the guy who sent you those notes.”

Her hands grab the pieces of paper in between her fingers, scrunching up her nose as she unfolds them. “What even are they, Baekhyun?”

“They are the thirteen times I didn’t tell you how much I liked you. From the moment I met you to now,” The more she reads through the letters, she sees glimpses of his mind through the years. From age twenty to now, Baekhyun had a whirlwind of emotions, never quite knowing what was a joke and what was meant to be much more. “And you always said I was a douchebag, not because of what I said about Scarlett Johansson, but because of what I said the night we met because you thought I was drunk but fuck no, I had never felt more sober in my life.” Baekhyun breathes out, just at the same time that she skims through the letters, getting in the information. In the past years, Baekhyun has liked her several times, getting over it only to move on to something else, but he always comes back to the same spot. “I meant every word and I mean it now. Don’t be embarrassed for liking me when I’m the stupid guy who has liked you for so long—”

She opens the door then, not caring if she’s a mess or the notes splay on the floor when her fingers caress the skin of his waist to bring him closer. Baekhyun feels like home, not too tranquil but rapid instead, a lake trying to move her off her boat as he grabs her by the back of the neck with one hand, digging his fingers on her hips to keep her closer. She molds into him as if made for each other, and maybe, they were, but she had always been too stupid to notice that there was more to Baekhyun than what he said.

In his silence, his whispers, his nothingness…that’s where he shined the most. When the jokes died down and all there was left of him was his sweet personality, though imperceptible at times, that was when she loved him the most.

When she pulls away, he leans in for a few more kisses, stealing a chuckle away from her when he continues to do so. “Did you just kiss me?”

“I guess I did.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. “Shit, Baekhyun, you weren’t supposed to wait this long to tell me you liked me. We could have had our happy ending so long ago—”

With a movement of his legs, he swings the two of them side to side. “Well, it’s difficult to tell someone could like you back when they always call you a douche.”

“Sorry.” She pulls her face away, capturing his soft, thin lips in between her own before humming in delight. “But I’m not telling you go now, douchebag.”

He shrugs. “It’s never too late to start.”

###

The collar of his sweater fell off one shoulder, collarbones peaking out as he brought the same glass of champagne he had been drinking from up to his lips. Chohee dragged him along the masses of people in her party, wearing a tiara out of all things, as she spat out whatever nonsense she had inside her head of finding Baekhyun’s perfect match. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he played along. It was not like he’d really find love in a place like this.

Though, when he saw her, dressed from head to toe in black, standing by a corner as she talked to Chohee’s new affair, Haesol, he thought he saw a glimpse of heaven. One of those angels that no one dared talk about because of their power, with a smile barely playing on her face, too difficult to get out, as she batted her eyelashes as softly as possible with every word she heard from Haesol. Her concentration was immaculate, unlike him, a little bit tipsy with flushed cheeks.

Chohee called out her name, one that he thought he would never forget, with her hand resting on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “…This is the guy I had been talking to you about, Baekhyun. We went to high school together and he’s been my sidekick ever since.” Chohee explained, and the woman was kind enough to extend her hand, stealing a breath away from him and settling a challenge on the top of his head when seeing her. He wanted to have her, but it was almost impossible—he knew this from just one glance. Difficult as difficult could get.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Chohee hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

“Well, I hadn’t heard about you but I wished I did.” Baekhyun spoke, taking a sip of his drink when he shook her hand with his. Soft, strikes of electricity going up his arm when they touched. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Baekhyun, or your future husband. Whatever you want me to be.”

A laugh ripped from her throat then, continued by a wheeze, as she moved her hand away from him. “Okay, douchebag, that was smooth, but good luck with that. I’m not much of a dater.”

Baekhyun shrugged then, as if knowing something more. “Give me time, I’ll make it happen.”

And he did.

#baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun #exo scenarios #exo #kpop scenarios #writing #baekhyun au #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #exo au #exo fluff #exo angst #this is an idea i got out of nowhere so #tell me what you think lol

[purple-fireflies]

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

#soy luna #soy luna fic #lutteo #soy luna grey's au #simbar #yamiro #gastina #hope you guys enjoy it!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Nine

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Also if y’all didn’t see, I made an I’m Always Curious Playlist, check it out if you’re interested 😊 Also toying with the next chapter being in Pike’s POV, we’ll see tho

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: When I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay.

Having had opposing pictures of her character drawn for me by Spock and Tilly, meeting Commander Michael Burnham was a bit of a trip.

The things that Spock had told me about her led me to expect someone austere, distant. But while she was composed, she was cordial, going so far as to make small talk on the way to the Ready Room. It wasn’t in the forced way that it had originally been with Jett, either. Apparently Burnham had heard a fair amount from me from Tilly. Jett joined us in the turbolift, and from there it was a short trek to the Ready Room.

I felt my stomach twist in apprehension as we neared the doors. While I had had some time to process the fact that Pike and I were in close range again, I had spent far too much of the last hour reflecting on the look he’d given me. I was distinctly out of place in the Ready Room. Not only was I the most unfamiliar with the crew, but I was still in my civvies. The Captain was already there, a PADD in hand. His eyes darted to the three of us we entered, but they quickly lowered to the device again as he said, “Commander Burnham, a word, please.” Burnham excused herself from Jett and myself, and I took the moment to look around. I ached with the familiarity - the sight of Chris’ table from Mojave in the room, along with a few other things that had made the trip over from the Enterprise. I drifted toward a window, unable to help my fingers trail over the wood of the table on my way. Jett followed at a pace, glancing at Burnham and Pike before stopping beside me. “Any idea how long Durling’ll take?” She asked. I shook my head a little. “Cornwell just said that he’d be here in a few hours.” At the sound of the Ready Room door opening, I straightened, hands tucking behind my back at attention-- And then I immediately dropped them as I scoffed, “Oh, it’s you.” “Is that any way to greet me?” Eli asked, walking deeper into the room, “You used to stand at attention, be all ‘yessir’ about it.” “I am your superior now, Durling.” “In rank only,” He retorted, coming to stop just in front of me. Despite his words, though, he was pointing that warm smile down at me, like not a day had passed or a thing had changed. And I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my face at his familiar gaze and teasing. After the war, Durling had been assigned to the USS Cetus, a temporary post as he awaited an official reassignment. While we spoke from time to time, I hadn't seen him in weeks. “God, I forgot what a dick you were,” Jett grumbled beside us. Eli turned to her, brows raising in surprise. “And it’s good to see you, too, Reno. Especially considering we thought--” “Oh, I know. This one got all misty on me about it,” Jett nodded to me. “Unnecessary detail,” I muttered.  “You can cry? I thought you’d gotten your tear ducts removed back on Starbase 115,” Eli frowned at me. “I would punch you if we weren’t in mixed company.” “Restraint? Wow, that’s new for you.”  We turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Pike was there, brows raised a little. Eli smiled, turning fully from myself at Jett. “Eli Durling,” He introduced himself to both Pike and Burnham. “Commander Michael Burnham. Welcome aboard.” “Christopher Pike,” Pike tacked on as he shook Eli’s hand. Eli glanced back at me, brow raised, and I felt the urge to punch him intensify. Instead I just gave him a slight glare before averting my eyes. He knew about me and Pike. I had spent the last year with the man, we’d spent that time having one another’s backs. He knew all of my secrets— but then, I knew all of his. “We should start the briefing, the target’s nearly in range,” Pike added as dropped Eli's hand. “We’ve never run any 22-9-14s on the Discovery,” Burnham explained. “Well, you’re in luck, because the three of us ran a lot of them," Eli nodded back toward me and Jett. “Define a lot, I mean how many times did you ruin your phaser cannons after you transferred?” Jett asked. “Well,” Eli glanced back at me, “I’m not sure I have a count on the phaser cannons, but I personally ran around a hundred, and the Commander ran a number somewhere in the 300s.” “Somewhere? Where in the 300s?” Jett frowned at me. “I’m not sure that’s pertinent to this briefing, as I don’t have the same penchant for bragging that Lieutenant Commander Durling does,” I folded my arms across my chest. Eli smiled.

“Regardless, you’re in good hands,” He added, turning back to Pike and Burnham, “I’ll coordinate from the Bridge while the Commander takes care of the tagging process. Any questions?” “I’ve got one,” I piped up. “Of course you do--” “What am I tagging?” I asked over him. Eli nodded to Pike’s desk, and Pike stepped out of the way, waving his hand with silent permission. I watched as Eli walked over to it, opening a file and pulling up a holographic display of a ship. I pushed off of the wall and walked over to join him with the others, my eyes wandering the surface of the ship. “Is that a DY-100 Sleeper?” I frowned, bracing my hands on the desk to get a better look. “It is,” He confirmed, “The S.S. Botany Bay.” “You’re familiar with this craft?” Burnham asked. I glanced at her. “Few months into the war, Command was looking for craft that might be able to slip past Klingon sensors. These vessels are antiques— 20th century, decommissioned. Older metals, outdated tech, but high crew capacity.” “And the Botany Bay was used during the war?” Pike asked. I turned back to the hologram. “Only two ships were in good enough condition to shore up and get off of the ground. This was neither of them.” “Maybe it’s just being tracked for longevity, see how long it holds up,” Jett suggested. “No,” I shook my head a little, “No, Cornwell said colony when I came aboard…” I straightened up, folding my arms back across my chest, “We’re either gonna get radio silence or hear some really cryptic shit.” “That’s the spirit,” Durling clapped my shoulder, and I shot him a sidelong glance. “You realize this is gonna be a manual?” I asked him. “Ah-- No,” He laughed nervously, “No, you don’t have time for manual.” “Time or not— Look at the surface area on that thing,” I nodded to the hologram, “If this is an original sleeper class and launched back in the 1990s when they were originally being built, it’s possible that the integrity of the hull is going to be compromised. That means that the arms on the bot are going to be too rough for this task.” “What would you have to do to attach it manually?” Burnham asked.  “She’s gotta eject herself from her ship,” Jett told them. “How much does that differ from a ship-based tag?” Burnham asked. “... It’s different,” Eli tread carefully as he said so. I could feel him eyeing me critically, and I couldn’t help the way my jaw clenched as my stomach swooped with nerves. I hated manual tags the most. There were fewer safety nets: no tether, no easy way back to the ship if something went very seriously wrong--just me and a jet pack and a whole lotta hope. “Considering the fact that Command even authorized this mission in the first place, a manual attachment should be our last resort,” he added, “And who am I to argue with Command?” “Usually the second in line,” Jett answered. “Who’s first?” He frowned. There was a pause as I felt the two of them direct their gazes to me. “I resent that,” I muttered. “Which puts you in direct opposition with Commander Reno, which, given the longevity of her rank, technically puts you at odds with your superior--” Durling muttered. “O-kay.” “What are the steps that we need to get this off of the ground?” Pike asked, cutting over our bickering. I suddenly felt like a schoolkid called out for chatting in class. “Reno needs to look over craft, make sure it’s safe to fly,” Eli told him, “Your ship’s doctor needs to give our pilot a once-over as well, same reason.” I rolled my eyes a little. I was a little tired, more than a little jittery at the prospect of being behind the controls of an attack fighter again, but I had flown and been cleared for flight in worse condition. “Anything else?” Pike asked. “No,” Eli shook his head, “Barring any complications, we should be set to launch… round 1800 hours.” “If that’s the timeline, I’m gonna go get some sleep,” I straightened, “Thanks guys.” I turned away, heading for the door as I heard Durling pipe up: “Oh, and Commander?” “Yes,” I turned back, “Lieutenant Commander?” Durling took a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, then up again. “Where are we with that uniform?” I forced out a little laugh before nodding once, “I’m gonna leave now.”

-- I knew that I needed to get rest, but the prospect of a manual tag kept had set my mind racing. Instead I studied the schematics that I had available for a DY-100. And when I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay. -- “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jett almost scowled at the sight of me stepping onto craft. “Not tired,” I fibbed. Jett gave me a short look before lowering herself beside the control panel. “Make yourself useful, then, pass me the magna-spanner.” I crouched down beside Jett’s toolkit and found the requested implement before passing it to her. Once I had, I sat on the floor of the craft, leaning back against the wall and looking around the small cabin. It seemed so much more confining than I remembered— crammed with measuring instruments, controls, an emergency med pack. I directed my gaze toward the hatch in the ceiling, the one I’d be pushing myself out into open space from in just a short while. “So,” Jett spoke up, “What’s the plan after this?” I smiled at the question— just like old times. “Maybe get some more pie?” I offered. “And sugar crash later?” “Mhm. It’s the risk you take when you eat the hard stuff.” “And after that?” “...Dunno. Maybe something that actually utilizes what I went to the Academy to do. You know, speak and translate something other than Klingon, work with texts and languages we’re less familiar with…” “But we put our dreams away?” “But we put our dreams away.” Jett leaned back, tossing the magna-spanner at me. I caught hold of it, depositing it in the toolbox. She humphed, “Well, you’re morose as shit, but your reflexes seem to be in good order. Should be helpful, huh, Captain?” I frowned before I heard, “Yes, it should.” My head was turned from him, and I had been focused on other parts of the ship, but I hadn’t even heard him come aboard. I glanced up at Pike to find him standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Pollard needs to examine you,” He nodded over his shoulder. “Right,” I pushed myself to stand before glancing down at Jett, “You’re set here?” “Please leave,” Was her smiling answer. I smiled a little myself, shaking my head before following Pike off of the craft. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he had to duck to ensure he didn’t hit his head on the way out. A brief wave of embarrassment crested over me when he glanced back at the sound. Pollard and Eli were in the shuttle bay, not too far off from the craft. The introductions were short as I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it to Eli. He caught it without a question or hesitation, hardly missing a word as he regaled Dr. Pollard with the story of his part in the Battle of Xisad. She seemed to only be listening out of politeness, humming in response now and again. Knowing Eli, though, this chatter was meant to distract all of us from what I was about to do. Dr. Pollard’s hand skimmed over my left shoulder blade and I jolted a little, tensing as I sucked in a sharp breath.  “Alright?” She asked. I nodded as I heard her switch to the scanner on her tricorder. “Quite a lot of scar tissue,” She added. “Caught the wrong end of a bat’leth,” I explained flatly. “Is there pain?” “No.” “Does it hinder any of your movements?” “No.” When Pollard returned her hand to that same area, fingers carefully massaging the area to ensure the truth of my statement, I held carefully still. “...Is there a right end of bat’leth?” Eli asked, breaking the tense silence from our superiors. “The side without the pointed blade would’ve been preferable,” I told him, glancing in his direction. “You’re so particular,” He scoffed, but he was smiling. I shook my head a little, feeling the tension drain from me a little. “Well, apart from a slightly elevated heart rate, everything seems to be in order," Pollard reported from behind me. “That’s not a concern?” Pike asked. “According to the Commander’s prior medical records, there is typically some uptick in heart rate prior to these particular missions. She’s fit to fly," Pollard tucked her tricorder into its holder. I gave her a small nod of thanks. “And yet not outfitted to fly. Starfleet regulation 67: an officer acting in the interests of the Federation must be in uniform to command or commandeer any vessel,” Durling rattled off. I hummed, nodding, “An excellent point, Lieutenant Commander, but you seem to be forgetting Starfleet regulation 67-A: In the event of an emergency procedure, Starfleet personnel are permitted to eschew Federation vestments as the mission demands. Or have you forgotten who that rule had to be instituted for?” Durling shuffled closer, holding my jacket back out to me as he muttered, “Can’t recall.” “Well— that’s hilarious, because I can. And I’ll be in a Starfleet flight suit, I do believe that that counts as uniform.” “It does,” Pike piped up. “Exactly— thank you, Captain.” “Anytime, Commander.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get changed and run through the pre-flight checklist with Jett,” I added. I thanked Pollard again before I turned, heading back to the attack fighter. Anytime, Commander. Two words. Easy. Two words that set my heart racing faster than the prospect of a manual tag-and-run did. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​​ ; @inmyowncorner​​  ; @tardis-23​​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​​ ; @katrynec​​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​

#I'm Always Curious #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/You #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike/reader #christopher pike imagine #christopher pike/you #Christopher Pike x You

[random-fandom1]

I’ve been thinking about this for ages and have just gotten round to writing it. 

Some quick background information before we start. Peter is 27 in this and is dating Bucky who is genetically still 28 - 32 because of the cyro freeze. They’ve been dating for 3 years now and no one knows they’re dating (well, maybe some people know. They live with two assassins so Natasha must know, Wanda must suspect at least and Loki knows because he walked in on them doing the you know once. They had to slave after him for a week to make sure he didn’t tell anyone). 

It’s not like they’re hiding it but are at the same time. Who knows what Steve and Tony would do if they found out their precious little peter was dating one of their closest friends. 

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

The avengers have just finished fighting a villain, some kind of alien or something. Like any other time they’re in a fight, they didn’t all get out unscathed. It’s not too bad this time, Peters just fractured his wrist and dislocated his elbow when swinging around and falling. His dads (and Bucky in secret) insist that he goes to the hospital wing to get it checked on. 

This is how they’ve ended up in this situation.

6:48 pm

“But Jamieeeeeee! I want to do the interview, it’s James Corden. You know how much I love James Corden. My hand and arm are fine!” Peter whines trying to get out from under the scratchy hospital sheets Bucky wrapped him in. Bucky rubs the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. He loves his boyfriend but he can get really whiney and clingy when he’s doped up on pain killers.

“Doll, you know you have to stay here. We’ll have plenty of times to go on to The Late Late Show in the Future. For now, you have to rest,” he says as a nurse walks into check his vitals, “I’ll be back later Peter, be good for the nurses”. Bucky starts to exit the room, looking back as he reaches the doorway to see his boyfriend chatting away to the nurse with a pout on his face. ‘He’s probably asking her if she can discharge him without his dads knowing’ he thinks to himself. James smiles to himself as he walks down the corridor to the main floors so he can get ready for the interview.

8:34

It was going well. The avengers had just been introduced and had taken their seats on the 3 couches they brought out for them (Couch 1 = Tony, Steve, Natasha and Thor/Couch 2 = Wanda, Vision, Clint and Pietro because he never died/Couch 3 = Bucky, and supposedly Peter.) Tony and Steve were running late but promised they’d make it by 8:45. Traffic must of gotten bad because of all the paparazzi.

Once the audience had stopped cheering and they had all been introduced to the audience, James started off with the obvious question.

“I notice that we are missing a few people. Does anyone know whats happened to the Roger-Stark family?” James asked. Before anyone could answer they heard a voice coming from the back of the audience

“We’re here, we’re here. The Stark-Rogers are here. This one insisted we take him, no matter how much meds he was on. Children am I right?” Came the voice of the one and only Tony Stark-Rogers. Tony walked in front of Steve who was carrying Spiderman who was wrapped in a blanket burrito. They walked to the front where the rest of the crew were sitting, Steve going to the last couch to dump Peter. 

Bucky could feel his emotions swirling around in him. The frustration of Peter not listening to his advice, worry about his boy’s injuries and if they’ve healed properly as well as adoration for how adorable he looked wrapped up, while completely out of it. As Steve puts Peter on the couch, he let out a small ‘oof’ which James had to resist cooing at. Instead, he gives Steve a nod of acknowledgement and returns to surveying the area with a cold, emotionless look on his face, trying to keep up his dangerous, assassin persona.

At least that was what he was trying to do. It was kind of hard to be a murderous assassin when your precious boyfriend is all tired and clinging onto a blanket a mere 3 feet away from you. He tries his hardest to ignore him. He really does. But all hope is lost when Peter starts to slowly shift closer to him, muttering something about the warmth and ‘my bucky bear’. Peter, bless his little drugged out self, slowly and discreetly shimmies over to his boyfriend. All the attention is on the most well known of the avengers at the front so no one notices Peter nuzzle into Bucky’s side. 

“Babe, doll, what are you doing? We’re on live TV.” Bucky whispers, subconsciously wrapping his metal arm around his boy. 

“Oh Jamie, your nice and warm,” Peter says, muffled from where his head is buried in the crook of his neck. Everything blurs out in the background and the only thing Bucky can focus on is Peter. About how his steady breathing is hitting the exposed skin of his neck and how his petite frame is starting to koala hug his own muscular built one. The boy is perfect in his eyes. His boy is perfect. His. He can’t help but to copy his boyfriend and bury his own face into the boy’s neck.

“Bucky, what are you doing back there?” Comes an English accent from somewhere around him. As if on instinct Bucky replies,

“Hugging my boyfriend what does it look like?”

There’s gasps heard around them

Shit! He must have zoned out badly. Bucky looks up from where his face was in Peter’s neck, face a scarlet red and eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Looking around him, he sees a majority of the avengers with their eyes wide open, mouths agape. The crowd aren’t much better. The studio is dead silent. Peter lifts his head slowly, totally dazed, and innocently asks,

“What did I miss Jamie?”

Buckys eyes land on his boyfriends face, momentarily relaxing but quickly his eyes catch the ones of the people in front of them. His best friend and his best friends husband. Peter’s parents.

Gently placing Peter to the side, Bucky stands up with his arms out, as if he were approaching a lion. Steve has a look of shock and hurt on his face while Tony’s is radiating off pure anger. 

“We, I can explain. Stevie just - fuck, Stevie just listen to me. I love h -” 

Before he can finish the sentence Steve is grabbing him by the arm and taking him backstage into a private room.

8:58

“MY SON! MY SON BUCKY! You were telling me about this relationship for months! About how you’ve been seeing someone, someone younger. But you don’t really have a choice now with people your age, you can’t exactly go chasing 102-year-olds who look 30! He’s 27! Buck, how, why, Bucky -” Bucky cuts him off by placing a hand on his shoulder and massaging

“Stevie just shut up,” Bucky still knows how to shut him up when he’s about to have a panic attack, “Look, first I want to say that I’m actually only physically in the 28-32 age range. You are now older than me punk,

“Secondly, I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t feel this way, you have no idea how many nights I wasted trying to convince myself that I didn’t like him. I love him, and he loves me. You know better than most that you can’t control who you love. Peter, god Peter deserves so much better than me but I’m going to stay with him for as long as he’ll have me. I, I just adore him with every cell in my body. He makes me happy, when I see him he just lights up a room. I, I just love him, words can't express how much ”

Steve stays silent for a moment, looking deflated. Like the small, frail boy he was back then. He looks at Bucky and in that look, Bucky knows, knows that he is forgiven, given half the permission he needs, that he still has his best friend.

“Come here Punk,” Bucky says stepping over to Steve and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Love you Buck"

"Love you too, Stevie"

9:17

Bucky and Steve had been hugging for just over 7 minutes when Tony barges in with Peter groggily walking in behind him. He's still confused on what's going on, why are his dads so angry at him and Bucky?.

"Bucky," Tony starts off, "I give you forgiveness, a roof over your head, I fucking convinced the government that you weren't a threat! And you go ahead and date my SON!" You can see Tony slowly growing more angry by the second. He continues

"I'd have every intention to throw you out if it weren't for the fact that your Steve's best friend and Peters boyfriend. That would hurt them and I dont hurt those who I love, not anymore. So, I'm here to hear out your side of the story because funnily enough, doped up Peter can't really say things that make sense.'" All eyes turn to Bucky as he gulps but nether the less, starts talking

"Tony, and Steve because I didn't tell you the whole story. I'm going to be honest with you guys, yous deserve to know. I want to start of by saying that I am forever grateful for everything yous have ever done to me. I love yous,

"It was 4 years ago, just after I moved into the tower when Peter came up to me. The kid wouldn't shut up. I wanted to be alone, at least that's what I thought I wanted. We slowly became friends. I trusted him with my life. I helped him with school work, he helped me with nightmares. We clicked, we worked. Feelings started to develope after a while and one night when we were studying on his little balcony, he kissed me and I kissed back. We've been dating 3 years now and they've been the best 3 years of my life. I love him, so so much. So please, don't make us break up, I don't think I'd survive without him. He's my light, my star. I want to marry him and start a family, live in a house just outside of New York so its still convenient for spiderman and avengers business. Maybe have a dog and definitely some goats. I want all that with him" Bucky finished with a tear rolling down his cheek. He really hoped Tony would understand, understand that they love each other 

Tony sighs and rubs his forehead. All the gears in his head are turning and he's getting a headache. Tony sighs.

"Well, I guess there's not much I can do. I believe you Bucky, your a good man. I give you my blessing or whatever to date him. Can we go home now" Tony says walking away, talking to no one in particular. Steve chases after him, leaving the boyfriends alone in the studio room. Bucky is grinning like the Cheshire cat, that's not how he expected that to go. There was definitely more shouting in his head. Peter suddenly comes up to him and plonks a kiss right on his lips.

"Well then Bucky Bear, shall we go home?" Peter holds his hand out but instead of taking it, Bucky scoops him up and carries him out of the room.

"Of course doll, anything you want"

#peter parker #winterspider #tony stark #bucky barnes #avengers #superfamily #steve rogers #marvel #cute #stony #james corden

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

The Study of Hearts

Master List

Warnings: Hospital talk, minor swearing

~~

“Hey Y/n, what’s been up with you today, doc?” You spare a quick glance over at the nurse who’d come up beside you, glancing away from the patient’s chart for only a second before returning to it. 

“Nothing’s up with me, I’ve just got a lot of patients today.” She scoffs instantly. You should have known better than to try and lie to Nurse Choi. She had been your head nurse during your internship, and your residency, she knew almost everything about you, and you were a fool to assume she wouldn’t notice your sudden drop in mood. 

“Don’t tell me that. We’ve had a fuller ward than this and you’ve never snapped at someone. That resident you scolded is still crying in the nurses station.” You feel a twinge of guilt at her words. The resident hadn’t really done anything wrong, but offered up the wrong medicine when you asked the group a question regarding a patient. You may have laid into them for longer than necessary about checking charts and allergies before handing out meds. “And this morning you actually shouted at the guy who took your parking spot. This isn’t like you.” You’re thankful the patient you’re currently looking at is asleep, recovering from a surgery that just ended. “So tell me what has the calmest, most level-headed doctor in the cardiology department so wound up.” You sigh deeply, setting the chart back into the sleeve at the end of his bed. 

“My boyfriend.” 

“The idol you swear you’re dating.” She huffs, somehow not believing you. You roll your eyes, deciding not to continue and simply walk away. No one ever believed you when it came to your boyfriend of nearly 4 years, and he wasn’t helping his own case either. “I just can’t believe an idol would date you, I’m sorry Y/n.” You spin back to the older woman, rising to your full height. You were sick and tired of people looking down on you for who you were dating as if they had any clue what was happening. 

“It’s Doctor L/n, Nurse Choi. You may refer to me on personal terms when we are outside of this hospital, but seeing as you refuse to respect my personal life, you are no longer privy to it.” She blinks up at you in confusion before nodding. You can almost feel the shock she emits.

“Yes, Doctor.” 

“Room 1134, Patient Kim Seungkwan needs to be prepped for anesthesia. Dr. Song will be here in an hour.” 

“Yes, Doctor.” She bows to you before turning away. 

“And Nurse Choi.” 

“Yes,Doctor?” There’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes when you call for her again. 

“Tell that resident to stop crying, if he can’t handle being reprimanded there is no place for him in a medical field.” Her shoulders slump again, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty. 

“Yes, Doctor L/n.” With one last curt nod to her you spin on your heels, stalking down the halls to your office. 

You’ve barely gotten the chance to start your computer before someone is knocking on your office door. 

“Who is it?” You ask, annoyance clear in your voice. 

“Someone told me you’re having a bad day.” The voice of the young Chairman has you standing immediately as he walks in. 

“Chairman Yoon, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You bow, but he simply waves it off. 

“Come on, Y/n, it’s just us. What have I told you about bowing to me.” 

“Sorry Myungsoo, someone could have been behind you.” You chuckle dryly at your friend. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” He holds up a small lunch box, waving it slightly. 

“I brought ice cream, but if you’re too busy I’m sure someone else will help me eat it.” 

“I’m never too busy for ice cream.” You relent, holding out your hands for the box. “And I guess your company too.” He takes the seat across from you, watching for a moment as you dig in. 

“So tell me, how come you’ve been such a bitch today?” His comment makes you choke slightly. 

“Yah, Myungsoo, what the hell?” 

“Come on, Nurse Choi’s upset, you yelled at a resident so bad he had to go home early.”

“He’s a crybaby.” You huff. 

“That’s besides the point. What’s eating at you?” You sigh, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream and setting it on your desk. 

“Mark.” 

“Huh, you’d think Mark eating you would make you happier.” His joke has your cheeks flushing instantly and you throw your napkin at him. 

“Yah! That’s not what I meant.” 

“What about Mark? I heard their tour ended a few days ago.” You clench your teeth slightly, recalling exactly what’s got you so pissed off.

“They got home last night, at least BamBam says they did, only Mark didn’t text, call, anything. I only found out they got back in when BamBam posted a selca.” “So you’re mad because he didn’t come see you?” 

“I’m mad because I’m fucking sick of it!” You explode, slamming your hand on the desk, making him jump. “He refuses to tell anyone we’ve been dating for almost 4 years, so everyone thinks I’m some delusional fangirl. He refuses to talk about the possibility of moving in together, we never go out when he’s in the country, and when he’s on tour I barely get a text once a week. He’s never met my friends or my parents and it kinda feels like he doesn’t even want to be in a relationship with me.” You finish your rant with a huff, raking your fingers through your hair. “He’s been managing to piss me off without even talking to me.” 

“Sugar, I don’t think you’re mad, I think you’re hurt.” He begins, setting his own treat down, “Anger is a secondary emotion.” 

“I know that, I did take psychology.” You grumble. 

“So what’s really making you so upset?” You cross your arms on the desk, hiding your face in them. 

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me any more? What if he just sees me as a burden these days and is trying to make me break up with him, so he doesn’t feel bad?” Myungsoo sighs, reaching out to rub your arm soothingly. 

“I think if you’re questioning the relationship, you should either talk to him, or break it off.” 

“I know, I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that. I really love him, you know?” 

“Chairman Yoon, we have a meeting sir.” A voice announces, knocking on the door. 

“You should go, thanks for the ice cream, and letting me vent.” 

“No problem, sugar, you should call him.” 

“I will.” The moment the door shuts behind him you pull your phone out of your bag, and pull up his contact. He doesn’t pick up, but you aren’t shocked. “Hey Mark, I heard you got in last night, I hope you’re doing alright. Look, I uh, I didn’t call for no reason. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. There’s just so much missing between us, like,” You scoff lightly, “Like love. So yeah, I uh, think we should break up.” You look up to the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I get off at 11 tonight, if you want to call me back then. I doubt you will though, you never seem to want to talk to me any other time. Either way, I have Thursday off, you can come get anything you left at my apartment then. Bye.” You hang up quickly, before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag. You felt like sobbing, just finally crying and letting it all out, but you knew you couldn’t, you had patients to help, and they were the priority. 

Of course, by the time 10:45 rolled around, you were dead on your feet, your brain hurt and you were about 2 seconds from cracking open the emergency wine you kept in the fridge in your office. 

“Sir, I may not be a pulmonologist, but I can tell you that smoking combined with not exercising are a major factor in why your heart is damaged.” You insist, trying not to roll your eyes at the man as he scoffs. 

“I don’t think you’re qualified to talk to me about this.” 

“Sir, I’m-”

“Doctor L/n to Emergency Care, paging Doctor L/n to Emergency Care.” 

“Mother-” You cut yourself off with a huff, “Sir, while you are in my care, it is my duty to offer you medical advice. You need to cut back on the cigarettes or quit entirely. While you’re in this hospital you are not welcome to smoke unless outside in a designated area, with a nurse present. Good night.” You bow, quickly exiting the room before you lose your cool and punch him. 

“Doctor L/n, you’re needed in-”

“I heard,” You interrupt the resident who ran up to you. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s a patient. He was attacked by a mob. He seems alright but he refuses to leave without seeing you.” The kid explains, holding the elevator door for you.

“Is he having trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain?” 

“No, I haven’t seen his chart yet, but as far as I’m aware he only has a few cuts and bruises, if there are any internal injuries, it would likely be contusions on his ribs or-”

“Spleen, why on earth am I being called?” You’re racking your brain for some kind of answer when the elevator door opens. 

“Ah doctor, you’re here.” The head of the ER sighs, meeting you only a few steps away from the lift, “Good. This way.” She begins leading you down one of the quieter halls.  

“Jangmi, tell me you have some grasp as to why someone needs a cardiologist here right now.” You bite at the inside of your lip, completely lost as to why someone might need you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n, he’s insistent and he’s mentioned you by name several times. Besides I’d rather his company continued to send their idols here.” 

“Company?” You ask, just as she opens the door. “Who-” “Oh thank god, the good doctor is here, now will you stop being a baby?” A familiar voice asks, and your heart leaps into your throat as you round the privacy curtain. There, sitting on the bed, looking pitiful in the hospital clothes, was Mark Tuan. You have to bite back tears as you pick up his chart. He had several bruises already forming on the skin you could see, and a split in his lip. 

“Mark Tuan what the hell happened to you?” Blood pressure, normal. Pupillary response, normal. No signs of concussion or brain trauma. 

“Some sasaengs started fighting as we were trying to leave, Mark got caught in the middle.” Jackson explains, toying with the IV stand. “Hey what does this button do, Y/n.” 

“Don’t touch it, Jackson.” Your response is instant and almost habitual, having had to slap his hand away from your tools plenty of times. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor L/n, do you know these men? Personally?” Jangmi asks, noticing the way JB lingers at your shoulder and Jackson immediately stops toying with things. 

“You could say that.” You muse, “Your vitals seem fine, though your heart rate has gone up slightly.” You can’t help the cheeky smile that dances onto your face. No, you broke up with him. You set his chart back down, grabbing his chin softly to turn his face towards the light. “You’ll have a few bruises, but nothing your make up artist can’t cover.” 

“Y/n-”

“So you have any trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain, headaches?” You ignore his plea of your name in favor of the heart monitor next to him. 

“No I’m fine.” 

“Then why did you beg a cardiologist to come see you?” You snap, turning on him. “If you wanted to finally talk to me, you could have waited fifteen minutes. Instead you’ve wasted the time of not one, but two doctors, at least one of our residents and several members of the nursing staff. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What do I have to say? What about you? You broke up with me over a voicemail.” He shouted back, and you watch from the corner of your eye as everyone in the room takes a step back from the two of you. 

“Well if you ever pick up your damn phone when I call, I could have broken up with you like that.” Your voice is somehow level, despite how hurt and angry you are. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.” Well, fuck, okay that was on you. “I didn’t want to run into you like this, but I figured ‘fuck it, you work here anyway’ might as well see you.” 

“So instead of waiting to be discharged and coming up to my department you worry me sick by begging me to see you like this? Do you know how scary it is to be paged down here? I was terrified someone’s heart had stopped beating, or I was going to need to perform an emergency surgery and I found you sitting here, beaten up instead.” The dam breaks, and the first tears begin streaming down your face. “The second I heard JB’s voice I was terrified I was about to have to save your life. After everything I told you about my work, about my fears of finding you on my table one day, how dare you use that against me.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Mark jumps up, pulling you into a tight hug as you cry into his shoulder. 

“You’re the worst.” 

“I know. I know I’ve been shitty. I should be taking you out and showing you off and I haven’t been. I’ve been so scared that Aghase might reject you, I never realized I was the one doing the rejecting. Please give me a second chance.” 

“Promise me you’ll change?”

“For you, in a heartbeat.” 

“Um, Dr. L/n.” Jangmi’s voice has you pulling away from Mark, wiping your eyes on the cuffs of your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Seo.” You laugh, trying to calm down. “I’ll handle his discharge paperwork.” 

“Of course, Doctor.” She chuckles softly, offering you all a bow before exiting the room. 

“You really broke up with him over voicemail?” JB asks, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I was upset.” You defend. “I also yelled at several people and told one of my closest friend’s to go fuck herself.” 

“Well, I’m declining your break up attempt, you didn’t tell me directly, so it doesn’t count.” Mark decides, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you walk out of the room. Nurse Choi is standing immediately outside the door, discharge paperwork in hand. 

“Oh, Nurse Choi, I thought you were up in Cardiology still?” You greet. 

“Dr. Seo asked me to deliver this personally.” Her eyes are wide as she sees Mark’s arm around your waist and the other boys just behind you. “It seems I owe you an apology, Dr. L/n.” 

“Yes you do. I’ll take those.” She sets the clipboard into your outstretched hand with a bow, moving to walk away. You saw the slump in her shoulders as she walked away, and the guilt crept into your chest. “Before you go,” Your call has her turning back to face you. “Noon, Saturday, come have lunch with me? Please Jisoo?” The smile that erupts on her face is enough to make you feel better. 

“Of course, Y/n, see you then.” 

#mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan imagines #got7 imagines #got7 #got7 imagine #goodwriterwithbadhabits #halloween game #request

[corie-the-writer]

Fate - Chapter 1

Please read first : This story will be mostly AU, with using different plots from the series through out this story. This story will contain angst, fluff, and smut at some point, and might possibly be triggering for some, so please be mindful. I will try to post warnings, but if not, please read with caution. Also, I will try to update once a week, but I want to take my time with this series. 

Chapter 1 

Three words. 

That is all it took for his entire world to change within seconds. 

Detective Jay Halstead was officially a father. He shared a son with the woman who has held his heart for over a decade.

They met when they were teenagers, at just sixteen years old.

Even though they went to different high schools, they both attended a football game since their schools were rivals, and found themselves at the same after party. 

Jay had found himself partnered up with Aubrey during a game of beer pong. He had to admit that she was a great shot with the little white ball, but he had been so mesmerized by her smile, he had missed the final shot. Aubrey smiled and shrugged her shoulders without a care in the world, helping him finish all the drinks filled with the cheap liquor. As the night progressed, Jay found himself learning more about Aubrey. That was until a dark haired man a few years older came barreling into the party, grabbing her arm. Jay quickly went to defend her, but Aubrey had put a hand on his chest, letting him know that the man was her brother, Justin. Before Jay could ask for her number, Justin had whisked Aubrey out of the party. 

He thought he had missed his chance, but a few weeks later, he had spotted her in the mall shopping with her brother, and he took the chance, asking for her number. Aubrey had agreed to go out on a date with him, and that is the first time his world changed. 

Jay and Aubrey were inseparable. 

When they weren't in school, they were doing homework together, studying for finals, spending practically every waking moment together when they could. After six months of dating, Jay and Aubrey lost their virginity to each other.

Of course, the entire relationship had been up and down. Since they were going to different schools, jealousy was easily reached. Jay would get out of school early and go to pick up Aubrey, seeing a male classmate flirt with her. Or Aubrey would see girls trying to text Jay when they would be studying. 

There was one night when Jay and Aubrey had went to the movies, a classmate of Aubrey's, Todd Michaels, had stopped her in line at the concession stand, asking her if she was going to the homecoming dance, something Jay didn't know about, and that upset him. Aubrey said that she wasn't sure she was going, which made Jay feel like she was embarrassed to be seen with him, which led to a fight in his old beat up truck, shouting at each other, until Aubrey confessed that she loved him. Jay immediately crashed his lips to hers, repeating the three words back to her.

Things were great for their relationship by their senior year, however Jay's life at home had gotten worse. His father had started to fight with him, a lot. He would show up at Aubrey's bedroom window with a black eye or a busted lip. As Aubrey graduated, preparing to go to Med School, Jay had broke the news to her three days later that he had signed up to become an Army Ranger. She was heartbroken, but promised that she would still be there for him. 

It was true. 

When Aubrey had taken him to the airport, Jay held her close to him, promising that he would always love her, no matter what and he would see her again.

When he was overseas, they would write to each other as much as they could. But Jay knew that he wasn't the same person she fell in love with, and he selfishly let her go when he had came back home for a short leave. He had left her sobbing in her dorm room after she had yelled at him for breaking his promise to her. 

Over the years Jay would see Aubrey out and about around Chicago, like fate was on their side. 

Jay would ask Aubrey to come home with him, even if it were just for the night, and she always would. Repeating the same mantras they said to each other in high school. When morning came, she would always disappear. 

When Jay had gotten out of the Army, he joined the police academy, and decided to try to give it a real shot with Aubrey once he had been recruited to the Intelligence Unit. 

They both were hesitant at first, but they were naturally gravitating towards each other, wanting to keep things between them while they figured out how to navigate their relationship with as much history as they had. 

The second time his world changed was the night that Justin was murdered. Everything had been going great in the relationship, Jay was going to ask Aubrey to move in with him, and when she showed up at his door, tears streaming down her face. She had collapsed in his arms, barely able to understand the news about Justin as she cried. He sat on the floor with her in his arms, holding her as tight as he could to bring her some sort of comfort.

He knew that Justin was a part of Aubrey. Justin was the one who was always there for her, going to soccer games when she was a little kid when Hank couldn't make it because of work. She would tell him stories of how Justin was always protecting her, guiding her and teaching her, Justin was like a best friend, a brother and father all rolled into one. 

Jay knew before she said anything, he could tell how distant she was. The day after Justin's funeral, Aubrey told him that she couldn't stay in Chicago. 

As much as he wanted to beg her to stay, to tell her not to go, he couldn't. He knew that she needed this just as much as he needed to enlist so many years ago. The only thing Jay could do was tell her that he loved her, always would as she walked out of her apartment, tears running down his face. 

The last he had seen her was when Justin's wife Olive, was throwing a birthday for her and Justin's son a year after his death. 

Aubrey had flown into Chicago for four days, the first day was for the birthday party, and the last three days were spent in Jay's apartment. The first night, Aubrey had told him about the job she had in a Colorado hospital, and the man she had met, and he would be lying if he said that didn't hurt. By the second night, they fell into the same patterns as before. 

On the last day they spent together in bed, Jay found the courage, asking her to come back to Chicago, to be with him, to have the life together that they always wanted. 

"Jay, I love you, I've loved you since I was sixteen. But right now, I need to figure out how to catch myself when I fall." 

"I'll catch you baby, I'll always catch you." 

"That's what I'm afraid of Jay." 

Now, here he sat in the small coffee shop, watching as Aubrey was walking through the door, wearing a long coral dress that fell just above her ankles, noticing the brown roman style sandals, with a thin light tan jacket on, her dark hair piled onto her head in a messy bun, sunglasses covering her eyes. 

The plan was to meet up first, talk about a few things, and then go meet his son for the first time. 

"Hey..." Aubrey approached the table with hesitation, Jay moved to stand up and gave her a hug. 

"Hey, how are you?" Jay questioned as he sat back down, with Aubrey sitting across from him. 

"Tired, had a long night at the hospital." Aubrey commented, "How are you?" Aubrey questioned. 

"I'm uh...processing." Jay chuckled lowly, taking a drink of his coffee, "You want anything? Coffee...tea?" Jay questioned. 

"No thanks, I usually hit the caffeine when I go to work." Aubrey laughed, "So uhm, I know this is a lot." Aubrey sighed, resting her elbows on the table, her hands under her chin, "I am so sorry that I didn't tell you. You probably hate me, and I don't blame you one bit." 

"I could never hate you." Jay nearly scoffed, "Look, I don't know how to feel knowing that I missed nearly three years of his life, but I understand why you did it. I get that." Jay sighed, "Your ex, he never hurt him, right?" Jay found himself wondering and watched as Aubrey shook her head. 

"There were a few times I thought he was going to but I...I uh tried like hell to get him out of whatever room we were in." 

"He hurt you?" Jay questioned lowly and watched as Aubrey gave a subtle nod, "We are going to have to discuss everything that happened, but when you're ready. I want you to know that you and our son will be safe." 

Aubrey gave a nod and remained silent for a few moments, "I asked you to meet me here first, because the apartment I was going to rent fell through at the last minute, I had been staying at Will's and now we are at pops." Aubrey explained, "Also, I don't want you to be upset with Will. I made him swear to me that he wouldn't say anything until I got on my feet. I feel like such an asshole with all of this, I just...I've been fighting for so long..." Aubrey sighed, resting her forehead against the palm of her hand. 

"Aubs, you gotta stop feeling bad. You did what you needed to do to make sure you both got here alive." Jay stated, "I'm going to be upset with Will, but I'll get over it, okay?" Jay watched as Aubrey nodded her head. 

"Here's the thing, you need to know that Henry is really shy around new people. I've shown him pictures of you, pops, so he's somewhat familiar with you both, but I didn't want you to get in front of him and be upset if he didn't react." Aubrey explained, "And I don't want to introduce you as his dad if you aren't one hundred percent sure that you want to be apart of his life. I don't want him to get attached and you not show up." 

Jay thought for a moment, "For the past two days, I've been staring at the pictures you sent me. I'm not gonna lie, I asked myself if I was capable of being a good dad, if I knew how to be a good dad." Jay admitted quietly, "I don't know what is going to happen with all of this, I don't know how to be a dad, but I know that I'm going to try like hell to be the dad I never had growing up." Jay stated. 

"It's not gonna be easy Jay." 

"I know." Jay gave a nod in agreement, "But I do know that no matter what happens in our lives, fate always brings us back together some how." 

Aubrey gave a soft smile, "Let's go meet your son, yeah?" 

Jay was in absolute awe seeing the little boy running around the living room. 

Henry Justin Halstead.

He was the perfect mixture of Jay and Aubrey. 

Henry had dark hair and olive skin just like Aubrey, he had Jay's eyes and bone structure. He swore his heart swelled a mile long seeing Aubrey walking towards the little boy, leaning down to speak to him, before pointing towards Jay. Jay watched as Aubrey lifted the little boy onto her hip, and slowly approached. Jay found tears building in his eyes, hating that he wasn't there for the birth of his son, to be there through the pregnancy with Aubrey. He noticed that Henry was a little smaller than most two year old's, but he had learned that Henry was born prematurely because of the stress Aubrey was under due to her ex-boyfriend. 

"Hi Henry..." Jay spoke, his voice cracking, thankful that Hank had disappeared out of the living room to give them some time alone, "I uh...I got you a few presents. Would you like to see them?" Jay questioned, silently scolding himself for not bringing them in with him from his truck. 

"It's okay baby." Aubrey encouraged the little boy as he looked to her for an answer and he watched as Henry gave a small nod. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go grab them. I'll be right back." 

Aubrey smiled softly seeing Jay rush out of the living room, knowing that he had bought a bunch of things for Henry over the past two days. Aubrey kissed her son's head as he patiently waited in her arms for Jay to return. 

A few moments later, several bags laying around the living room, with Jay and Aubrey sitting on the floor, as Henry was sitting on her lap, holding onto the new stuffed sloth as he was going through the different toy cars and trucks he now had, occasionally glancing to Jay who was watching him intently. 

"I bet he'll play with you if you ask." Aubrey spoke quietly into the little boys ear, and watched as he looked up to her and then back to Jay, "He likes cars and trucks just as much as you." Aubrey added with a smile. 

Henry pushed himself out of Aubrey's lap with the help of her. He tucked the sloth under his arm and tried to grab a couple of his cars and trucks but they kept falling from his hands, and Jay moved slowly to help him. 

Aubrey's heart swelled a little while later, seeing Jay laying on the floor, with Henry next to him pushing the cars and trucks around. Henry had warmed up to Jay almost instantly when he began to play with the little boy. 

"Can I take you guys out to dinner?" Jay questioned causing Aubrey to shake her head from spacing out at the scene in front of her. 

"Uh..yeah, that's fine." Aubrey commented, "I'm gonna go let pops know, and get him some fresh clothes. You okay with him?" Aubrey questioned as she pushed herself up off the floor. 

"Yeah, I'm good."  Jay flashed her the brighest smile she had ever seen, and she couldn't help but to smile in return.

Tag List: @samiam9525 @yespleasejayhalstead @chloebear26 @readbasoeverything @bethii1 @faithhasnowords @death-star-canteen @wearesodrica @amylouwho9 @bellageorge03 @shadyfox242 @shadyfox242 @httphiddlestan @wemma554 @nikki1dxx @kadygirl @beachfan412 @katiehud @live-in-the-waves @alievans007 @raindreamsxx @onechicagofan20 @am918 @haileymatthewss @supyfish @chrisanddumness @esauthor @thesunwillriseagain-13 @spiridakoas-wp @kaite1996 @itsdesiree86 @hehurst23 @smalltowngirly05 @toomuchtv95@nursejuju86 @mamamiush @aparkel @fofisstilinski @tyzerman91 @daenerys-targaryes

#detective jay halstead #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x oc #Fate Chapter 1 #nbc chicago pd #Chicago PD

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part seven Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part seven: Sam finds a perculiar place for him and his brother to spend the night, but can’t get the female hunter out of his mind. What caused her to act the way that she did? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: The Passenger - Iggy Pop & The Stooges. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer​​​, @soupornatural​​​ & @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​​ & @winchest09​​​ who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

    “No, it doesn’t matter… Any room… Alright… Thank you, sir.” Sam removes his phone from his ear and presses the disconnect button.     That’s settled then; they have a place to spend the night. He’s not sure if Dean is gonna be happy about the type of room, it being expensive as well, but at least he will have a bed.     The younger Winchester shuts the screen of his laptop and puts it away in his backpack beside his feet, then rests his head against his seat. The green neon of the pharmacy sign up the street flickers rhythmically. Dean killed the engine but left the key in the ignition, allowing The Passenger by Iggy Pop & The Stooges to play on the radio. Sam has the urge to change the station, rock is more Dean’s kind of thing than it is his. But as always, he doesn’t, knowing that if he did, he would receive a ‘Dude, don’t change the fucking station’ comment when his brother gets back.

    He closes his eyes for a moment, but makes sure he doesn’t fall asleep. Man, he’s so tired. He feels like he could sleep for days, but a nightmare would probably spoil his moment of rest, just like they have for the last month. He sighs, listening to the cars driving by and footsteps on the sidewalk next to their parking spot. Then he looks outside, watching people hasten to their destination. Ordinary people, men, women, children. All with a certain goal, they seem to know where they’re heading. Business people in neat suits, mothers out shopping, kids hanging around after school. The lives of most of them are so simple. They don’t have a clue what’s really going on, what other world they’re living parallel to. He remembers brief moments of the time he didn’t know. If he had the smallest hunch of what he is aware of now, he would have never begged his brother to tell him. He closes his eyes again and breathes out; what a wonderful world.

    Out of nowhere, a loud bang sounds through the car. Sam almost jumps out of his skin and looks outside, startled, expecting to witness a car crash, but instead, he sees his smirking brother with his fist still resting against the window. Sam rolls his eyes while Dean walks around the car and gets in.     He laughs as he opens the bag. “You were out, man.”     “No I wasn’t,” Sam denies. “Did you get something?”     “Vicodin.” Dean shows off his meds, pops one capsule out of the package and knocks it back.     “Don’t you need a prescription for that kind of stuff?” Sam contemplates.     “Yeah, but the pharmacist was hot,” Dean grins, waving a card with a cell number written on it in the air.

    Sam shakes his head and chuckles; typical.     “Shall I drive? I’m quite sure you’re not allowed when you’re on Vicodin,” he suggests.     “Dude, we face death on a daily basis, and you’re worried about my driving skills after one teensy weensy Vicodin pill?” He glances in his side mirror before he turns his car back on the road.     “Touché,” Sam admits.     “Found a place to stay?” Dean checks.     “Yeah, I did.”

    The black Chevrolet approaches traffic lights on the corner of S. Broadway and 2nd Street Southwest, as Dean looks aside at his brother, his hand resting on the wheel. “Where to?”     “Take a right here, then the second right and a final fifth left. It’s not that far,” Sam explains.     Dean does as told, but gazes at Sam for a moment after he accelerates and makes the turn.     “What are you? A hunter equipped with a global positioning system?” he chuckles.     “I’m surprised you managed to say those fancy words without stuttering,” Sam counters.     “Hey, I’m surprised you still can’tgive out your fake ID without stuttering, you don’t hear me belly achin’ about it,” Dean counters with a grin, secretly enjoying their brotherly banter.

    Five minutes later, they leave the car in a small parking lot next to a three-story red brick building that used to be a warehouse once. Now, purple neon light flickers above the entrance: Deep Purple Inn.     “If the place is as good as the music, this is gonna be a hell of a stay,” Dean comments, glancing through the windshield.     “I thought you just needed some sleep?” Sam refers while he gets out and looks over the top of the car.     “I still do, but Stacy gets off at nine.” Dean closes the door with a smirk on his face.     “Stacy?” Sam asks, puzzled.     “Keep up, man! Vicodin-girl,“ his brother reminds him as he picks up the pharmacy bag from the back seat.     “Right.” Sam looks down at his feet with a chuckle. “And your point?”     He waits for a response while they enter the motel. The Inn is obscurely decorated, purple being the main theme, not surprisingly. The peculiar interior design choices have both the Winchesters frowning as they take in the lobby.     “My point is that while you are out checking on Zoë, I’ll be checking out Stacy,” Dean clears up, after redirecting his attention to Sam.     He leans his left arm on the counter, careful not to harm his shoulder. He beams and raises his brows as his eyes sparkle; seems like he’s gonna get lucky tonight.

    “Can I help you guys?” A young bloke, probably in his mid-twenties, turns his office chair and faces the brothers. He’s dressed in casual clothing with a waistcoat, his black hair is spiked with shiny gel.     “Yeah, we just called in for a room. Is it still open?” Sam checks.     “You probably talked to my manager, but yeah.” He nods. “We have a room left.”     “We’ll take it,” Sam decides as he slips a credit card.     The guy behind the counter gets up and takes the card. Impatiently, Sam checks his phone for the time; it’s four PM. Zoë’s meeting Terry Cliffer in an hour and a half and he wants to be there before she does. His brother, on the other hand, already seems to have forgotten about the argument with their fellow hunter, as he steals his fifth caramel toffee from the counter, puts it in his mouth and looks around to make sure no one saw it.

    “So, you just drove back in from Canada or somethin’?” the desk clerk asks, as he passes the card back to Sam.     “Beg your pardon?” he asks, somewhat dazed.     The young guy captures Dean’s attention as well, because he studies him with the same confused expression, having some difficulty chewing his toffee. They don’t receive an answer, though, at least not a direct one.     “Here you go.” The young guy puts a gift basket wrapped up in glittery transparent paper on the counter.     He places the key of room 301 next to it as Sam reads the card; Just married. Dean frowns when he detects a pair of handcuffs inside, upholstered with purple fluffy fur.     “What is this?” Sam looks from the gift basket to the guy behind the counter.     “You just got married, right?” the counter guy checks.

    Dean chokes on his toffee and coughs as the younger of the Winchesters stares from one to the other, flabbergasted. What did he say?     “Dude! We’re brothers!” Dean corrects with a raspy voice, not having cleared his windpipe entirely yet.     “Is that legal these days?” the young guy returns, disgusted.     “What? No - no - no. You got this all wrong. We’re not married, we just want a place to spend the night,” Sam clears up.     “Nice going, Sam. That sounded even grosser,” the older of the two comments.     “You do know you rented the bridal suite, Mr… Gillan?” he now carefully asks, reading the false name from the screen which he just got from Sam’s credit card.     “You rented the bridal suite?!” Dean exclaims, dramatically.     “It was the only room I could find,” Sam answers, guilty.     Dean rolls his eyes and turns around, lifting his arms from his side in disbelief. “He rented the bridal suite.”     “You brothersstill want it?” the guy behind the counter makes sure, clearly not impressed by all the fuss.

    Sam waits for Dean to approve. It doesn’t take long before he sighs, a frustrated hand gesture combined with an eye roll telling him to settle for the room. Sam takes the key and is followed by Dean, who snatches the gift basket off the counter as he walks by. When he receives a questioning look from the clerk, he turns around to face him.     “I’m expecting company later this evening. Might be needing those,” he points out the handcuffs in the goody bag. “Her name is Stacy somethin’. Make sure she gets in.”    “Will do,” he promises with a slight nod.

    While shaking his head, the older Winchester catches up with Sam, who’s waiting for him at the staircase. He glares at the gift basket and back at Dean, wondering what on earth he would want with that.     “Don’t worry, it’s for Stacy, not you,” Dean assures, as he begins his climb to the third floor.     Sam chuckles, he almost forgot about that. At this moment, however, Dean seems more bugged by being called queer, than happy to have a cute pharmacist over for the evening.     “Can you believe that guy?” Dean turns around at the top of the stairs and looks down on Sam. “Come on, do I give off a gay vibe?!”     Sam halts and looks up, pressing his lips into a thin line to suppress a laugh. Although Dean does his best to be all manly and tough, the thatched basket hanging from his arm gives a different idea.     Dean notices Sam’s strained face, glares skyward and moves on. “Don’t answer that.”

    They conquer three stories and arrive at room 301. Sam turns the key and opens the door, revealing the suite to Dean. He lifts his eyebrows as his brother switches on the lights and walks in. Purple. The walls, the sheets, the curtains, everything is either painted or fabricated a shade of purple. Several spotlights look down at them from the ceiling like tentacles of an octopus, and abstract paintings decorate the wall. The ceiling is the only surface that isn’t draped in the obnoxious color, but it reflects all that is via a giant mirror. The bedposts are made of steel and reach up to the ceiling, seeming to go on in the reflection. Small cushions are carefully made up on the bedspread.

    Dean sets the basket down on the main table near the window as he checks out the ceiling, the huge bed and its poles, imagining watching Stacy hanging from one of those. Or even better, being cuffed to one of those. He sniggers gruffly. They’ve come across their fair share of strange rooms, but this one is off the charts. Either the interior designer was intoxicated with Purple drank or was high on LSD, because no one in their right mind would come up with this.     “This is awesome,” he concludes, amused with the absurdity of the suite.     “There’s only one bed,” Sam notices.     “No shit, Captain Obvious. It’s a bridal suite. Not sure what you had in mind for your wedding night, but if you were thinking separate beds, you weren’t doing it right,” Dean chuckles, sauntering towards the large king size.

    There’s no clever answer following up his comment and Dean looks aside. When he sees his brother’s face, he realizes he hit a sore spot and his smile disappears. Sam might have pictured his wedding already, since Jessica was his longtime girlfriend. He’s quite sure Sam hadn’t proposed yet, but he knows his younger brother; he planned his future. It might have crossed his mind once or twice.     “Sorry, man,” Dean apologizes. “But now that we started on that subject; you don’t sleep, right?”     Sam closes the door behind them and turns at his brother. He decides to let it go.     “Right, not much anyway,” he answers with some hesitation, not sure where Dean is going with this.     “Good, then I’ll take this baby,” Dean sighs and falls down on the bed.     As he lands, a sloshing sound comes from inside the mattress as Dean bounces up and down like he’s riding small waves in a pool. His eyes light up and excitedly stares at his brother; it’s a waterbed.     “This is beyondawesome!” he laughs, rocking it even harder.

    Sam chuckles at the sight of his goofy brother, who has the resemblance of a six-year-old. Oh well, at least he’s able to enjoy the little things. For a brief moment, he thinks about Jess again, like he does countless times a day. Dean’s comment resurfaced some thoughts and feelings. Even though his life was turned upside down less than a month ago by her shattering death, it feels like all the good and normal happened so long ago. The gutting pain is still there and will remain for a long time, if not forever. Losing his girlfriend also created a massive rift between what is and what will never be. A canyon so wide, no bridge can span across. He can never be that college student with a bright future in law anymore.

    His mind shifts to the huntress who they crossed paths with, and he wonders if that same unbreachable gap is the reason why she’s so bitter.     “I still don’t get it,” Sam ponders. “Why would Zoë be dead set on working this case herself?”     “You’re still worked up over that? Oh, Sammy,” Dean shakes his head as he lays back on the covers. “Just accept that she’s an insane bitch and let it go, will ya?”     “But she wasn’t like this. You said so yourself,” the younger brother reminds him. “And what’s the deal with Dad? Did you see how angry she got when I mentioned him?”     “As far as I’m concerned she’s in Dad’s debt. Exorcising that Diligo demon was close to impossible. She’s alive because of him,” Dean states, defensive. “Look, I don’t know what crawled up her ass. I mean, you gotta be a little mad to do the job, but she does it alone and has for four years. That does something to a person. Maybe she saw some shit, got some wires crossed–-”     “Dad did the job alone for years when we were kids,” Sam reminds him.     “He always had us to come back to, Sam,” Dean disagrees. “He has a family.”     Sam narrows his eyes now, peering at his brother through his bangs. “She doesn’t?”

    Dean hesitates now, biting at his lip for a second before he answers, staring at his reflection on the ceiling before averting his gaze to his brother. “I don’t think she speaks to them.”     The younger Winchester frowns. “What makes you say that?”     Dean shakes his head, half dismissing his own thought. “It’s probably nothing, just something she said, or didn’t say, really. My guess is that she’s on her own and has been for a while. Explains why she was crawling the walls with us around. We don’t know what her reasoning is, but we do know she’s crazy, pissed off, not to mention a fucking assassin. Best to leave a hunter like that be.”

    Sam huffs, silently disagreeing. Dean might be glad to be rid of the female hunter, he himself can’t give it a rest, though.     “Knowing you won’t…” Dean stretches his back, wincing when his wounded shoulder stings sharply. “What time are you heading out?”     Sam checks his watch; it’s 4:15. Zoë will probably be at the bar in an hour or so.     “Four-thirty. See how that conversation goes, check on Cliffer’s place, maybe,” he says, still contemplating.     “As long as you don’t interrupt me and Vicodin girl, I’m good,” Dean mumbles carelessly.

    While Dean closes his eyes, relieved that the pain is starting to fade, Sam takes out his laptop and plugs it in. He has fifteen minutes to crack the Olmsted county website he was working on earlier. If he can get his hands on some recent blueprints, he might find a pattern that isn’t visible on the older public maps. He opens a few programs on his laptop and after a bit of work, he manages to get into the back of the website. Just before 4:30, he double clicks the ‘ok’ button and his computer begins to download a zip file, which contains the information he’s been looking for.

    That should do it, but for now, he will make sure Zoë is alright. Why? He’s not exactly sure, but he has a feeling he should. He once mistrusted that ‘feminine intuition shit’ – as Dean likes to call it – and Jessica ended up dead because of it. A hard lesson learned, and although Zoë isn’t nearly as important to him as Jess, there’s something about her that feels familiar, that he needs to protect.     He gets up from his chair and walks to the door, glancing at the bed before he leaves. Dean is fast asleep and as Zoë said earlier, he would need to set off a bomb to wake him up. Returning here later tonight will not be an option with the visitor his brother is expecting, but he can worry about that later. For now, he has some business to take care of. He leaves the room, closes the door behind him, and heads off.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

#supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean series #Sam series #Supernatural OFC #Supernatural OFC series #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x OFC #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Zoë Sullivan #Supernatural #SPN #Dean angst #Sam angst #Dean smut #Sam smut #Dean Winchester angst #Sam Winchester angst #Dean Winchester smut #Sam Winchester smut #1x01 Changes #TSS 1x01 Changes #Kate Huntington

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Confused

A/N: I’ve been MIA for like 2 weeks or more, I don’t remember, sorry about that. Here I am with some good old Dean, I hope I can be forgiven.

Genre: fluff

Warning: minor cursing

Word count: 1900

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem reader

Summary: Sam notices something weird with Y/N and Dean and he starts to pay more attention to them. 

Masterlist

The first time Sam noticed it, Dean was leaning into the trunk to grab something. He just heard Y/N mutter, “Damn,” under her breath before he whipped his head to her. She was completely oblivious, staring at Dean, and Sam had an idea about what was going on, but didn't want to jump to conclusions. For all he knew, she wasn’t checking out his brother, she just really liked his car.

From that point, he watched them a little more closely. He paid attention to how they talked to each other and when they looked at each other, especially when one of them wasn’t paying attention. He was hoping to find longing looks, or at least be able to see them checking each other out, because the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He was watching them both like a hawk, studying their every move for about a week before he gave up. Maybe he had been wrong about what was happening.

--

About two weeks after he had given up on his study of his two bunker-mates, he had almost completely forgotten about it. He definitely would have, if it hadn’t happened again.

Dean had made dinner, Y/N’s favorite. It never stopped surprising Sam how good his brother was at cooking, but he was at least used to it enough to stop commenting on it. Y/N, however, was always very vocal about how much she loved his food and the fact that he made her favorite. She was smiling adoringly in his direction while he talked to Sam about an upcoming case. While he was definitely paying attention to the conversation, he couldn’t help how often his gaze wandered to the female hunter who was admiring his brother in between bites. He realized that she didn’t so much check Dean out as she simply paid attention to him. This honestly made Sam really happy for his brother, that someone looked at him like he was a good person, not just someone to have fun with, or worse, someone worthless.

They finished up their conversation and Dean pushed back from the table. Y/N went to stand up too to take dishes into the kitchen, but Dean just stopped her by grabbing her plate and saying, “I got this,” turning towards the kitchen.

Y/N watched him for a second before whispering, “Shit,” under her breath. Sam had already been watching her this time, so he was sure of what had just happened.

Even if he knew what was going on though, he was still going to ask. “What’s wrong?” He regarded her, waiting for a response. She tore her eyes away from the direction Dean had gone to shake her head at him.

“Nothing,” she said quietly, turning to walk towards the bedrooms in the bunker.

Sam wasn’t sure what he had proven to himself, but he was reassured that he hadn’t been crazy that first time and was reinvigorated in his study of Dean and, more notably, Y/N.

--

They were in the middle of a hunt and Y/N had been hurt. Dean had kicked the things ass into next year before scooping her up from the floor where she was slowly bleeding out. They got her to the car and drove back to the bunker as fast as they could without getting arrested. Thankfully, their hunt had only been about 40 minutes from the bunker, a drive that was almost cut in half with Dean’s frantic driving. When they got to the garage, Dean was quick to grab her from her place across the backseat and carry her to his room. He didn’t really think about where he was going, he just knew where everything was in his room and it was the closest. Sam had run into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit, while Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey. Sam left it to Dean to fix her up, seeing how freaked out he was right then, but also how much he wanted to be the one to help her.

They both cursed under their breath when Dean cut the bottom of her shirt open and they saw the large gash on her side. The eldest Winchester quickly got to work cleaning the wound and stitching it up, operating very mechanically but impressively steadily.

As he finished stitching up her side and wiped the excess blood from around her wound, Sam noticed Dean let out a shaky breath before he took a quick swig of whiskey before leaving to wash his hands.

Y/N was still out, but was definitely breathing, so Sam knew she would be okay. Since the worst was over, he thought back on how worried Dean had been. Of course both of the brothers loved you like family, but they both knew how tough you were and neither usually freaked out the way Dean had at something like this. While it was definitely going to leave a nasty scar, there was no doubt in his mind that you would get through it.

After he had gotten most of the blood off of his hands, Dean returned to stand beside the bed. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m gonna put her in some clean clothes,” obviously telling Sam subtly to get out of the room. He grabbed the first aid kit and turned to leave, watching Dean rummage through his drawers and grabbing his favorite shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He smiled softly at how worried his older brother was before walking out the door and shutting it behind him.

--

Of course she woke up fine the next day, although she was definitely feeling worse for wear. Dean had kept a vigil next to her bed all night, which Sam found out when he went to check on her in the morning. Dean was leaning hunched over the bed with his head on his arms next to her. Sam smirked a little and went to the kitchen to make a small breakfast for everyone.

When he got back to the room, she was just starting to stir. Feeling movement, Dean quickly sat up to watch as she woke up, wincing and blinking as she obviously felt the damage done to her abdomen. She tried to sit up, but Dean was quick to stop her from moving too quickly, offering his help to get her to the edge of the bed. Once her feet were on the ground, the brothers quickly decided that they could all just eat in the room, not wanting her to strain herself too much. Dean grabbed her plate and set it on the nightstand. Y/N looked at him as he crouched down to her eye level and asked if she wanted booze or meds. She opted for meds and Dean walked out of the room on a mission for advil and a glass of water. Y/N’s eyes trailed after him and Sam witnessed it for a third time. She looked down at the shirt that she was very aware was Dean’s favorite along with some soft sweatpants, her face softening as she simply said, “Aw hell.” She pushed the hair out of her face and reached for her food like nothing had happened.

Sam tried to question her about it later but she simply strayed towards Dean and said she was really tired. He had to give it to her, it was probably the best way for her to get out of whatever conversation Sam was going to try to have.

--

At this point, Sam knew that at the very least, Y/N had feelings for his brother. She definitely wasn’t the first, but this seemed different than Dean’s usual love interests. For one thing, she was an absolute sweetheart to both of the boys, specifically Dean, but also knew how to take care of herself. She didn’t expect Sam or Dean to do anything for her and she never asked them for anything. She was good. Sam thought she would be good for Dean.

The trouble now was whether or not Dean felt anything romantic towards her. He knew his brother cared deeply for her, but he cared deeply for a lot of people, even strangers. That didn’t necessarily equate to romantic feelings, especially not for Dean.

He finally got his damning evidence one night when he walked in on the two on the couch. They were both sprawled out lengthwise, Y/N between Dean’s legs with her head on his chest. Sam knew that, while neither would admit it, they were both cuddlers. It was completely possible that they had fallen asleep sitting on the couch instead of laying. All he knew for sure at that moment, was that they looked really cute and that he needed photographic evidence.

Y/N was a heavier sleeper than Dean, but Sam was trying to be quiet either way. Unfortunately, he apparently wasn’t quiet enough because Dean began to stir. Not enough to jostle Y/N awake, but enough that Sam noticed he was awake. Sam backed away a little, hoping Dean wouldn’t notice him. As his eyes slowly opened, Dean looked down at the weight on his chest, smiling softly at her. While still gently grinning at the girl laying on him, Dean quietly uttered a, “Son of a bitch.” Obviously feeling that he was being watched, he looked up at Sam and realized he had been watching him. Instead of acknowledging what had happened, Dean whispered, “What the hell man? Why are you staring at us like a weirdo?” Even though he sounded annoyed, his face had a distinctly pink hue to it.

“Sorry, you guys were just too cute, I needed a picture.” That earned him a glare. Betting on the sole fact that Dean wouldn’t be willing to wake Y/N to come after him, Sam backed out of the room, smiling at Dean and waving. Dean just rolled his eyes and seemed to settle back into the couch, closing his eyes.

At least Sam now knew definitively that they were into each other. Now it just came down to what to do about it.

--

Sam wasn’t normally one for meddling, but the way they were blatantly pining after each other was driving him insane.

Finally, it all came to a point one day when they were in the war room. Y/N was walking through completely without paying attention, bumping directly into Dean’s chest. She looked up at him and they locked eyes like they were in some kind of romcom where they make eye contact and fall in love and live happily ever after. There were about ten seconds of silence where they just stared at each other before Sam snapped.

“Godammit, would you two just kiss already and get it over with!” He hadn’t necessarily meant to explode on them, but it was getting ridiculous.

They both stared at him wide-eyed before Dean smirked and turned back to Y/N. “Don’t mind if I do.” No matter how cocky he sounded, they both looked nervous and the kiss was obviously very soft, nothing passionate or Dean-like about it. As they both pulled back, they both whispered a curse.

Sam rolled his eyes, but all he could really think to say was, “Thank Chuck, finally. You guys are cute or whatever, but that was just exhausting to witness.”

Y/N was blushing before, but seemed to come to herself as she flipped him off and leaned up to kiss Dean again.

#dean winchester x reader #reader insert #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #fem reader #lonelyandlovelorn

[daisyxbuckley]

O’Death//Calliope Kane Book 2

Description: The Grounders have been defeated. The people on the Ark have landed safely….so where is the rest of The 100? Calliope and her friends must work in a race against time to save everyone..no matter the cost.

@cxddlyash 

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

"And soon I hope that this wont be a mistake too."

Callie hurried into med bay to help Abby with Raven. Murphy was sitting on the bed looking a little worse for wear and avoiding her eyes. The redhead walked passed him only to be stopped by Abby as she came over.

"Callie can you patch him up for me so I can look Raven over better?" The older woman asked. Callie nodded as she walked over to grab some bandages and water to clean him up. Cleaning all the blood off his face, Murphy was silent as pale hands worked quickly to heal him.

"Seems like you're always patching me up." He said quietly. Callie looked at him with her brow quirked. He was different than the last time she saw him, almost like there was remorse in his voice.

"Are you going to hang me as a thank you again too?" She said curtly. The girl knew it was a low blow, but the fact that she had almost died at his hands was something to make anyone mad. Murphy grabbed her hand forcing Callie to stop what she was doing and the look of shock that fell over her face was not hidden.

"Look. I'm sorry about what I did. I have no clue what I was thinking." Murphy said slowly. "I know that wont fix anything but I still feel like you need to hear it. I was wrong about you Callie, the fact that you haven't killed me shows that." Callie stood there silent as she took in what he was saying.

"You're right. I do appreciate your apology but I don't accept it." She said quietly. Callie could see the look on his face as his eyes fell and he released her hand. "Yet."

Murphy looked up at that last word with a confused look. "I don't forgive you, yet. But if you really do want to change then i'll let you. And when you do we can try this again." She said finishing with a smile. Murphy returned it as she finished patching him up.

When the guards took him away she headed over to Abby. Hearing gunshots their eyes met as they dropped everything and ran out. Callie's heart was beating when she got to the front gate with a small group formed. A woman was standing next to someone holding a gun and Callie's eyes instantly went to the wood line to see if she could see anything. Octavia was still out there with Lincoln and the girl had hoped that it was them that was shot at.

"Who was there!?" Her dad yelled coming up behind her. Marcus had a worried look on his face as Abby came up next to him looking around.

"I don't know." The man said with a shaky voice. "I know I saw something moving in the woods though."

Abby looked horrified when he said that. "You opened fire?! That could of been the kids." She yelled as she started sprinting forward. Marcus grabbed her arm and held her next to him as she struggled.

"Abby, no. We will sweep the woods." He said as they held a stare down. Callie studied the two as she wondered what had been happening while she was gone. It wouldn't surprise her if something had sparked since they had lived similar lives. Marcus let go of Abby and turned to the man.

"Who issued you that weapon?" He asked him. A blonde woman with a hard face stepped forward with a slightly raised hand.

"I did." She said looking between the men. Marcus nodded and took the gun away handing it to one of the guards.

"Major Bryne, from now on, only members of the guard get guns." He said facing the rest of the crowd. "Any unauthorized use of firearms will be punishable under the Exodus Chapter. Are we clear?" The murmurs of agreeing ran through the crowd as he turned back to Abby and the group.

"Search the damn grounds Marcus." She spit out before stomping off. Callie looked at her dad and shrugged as she followed after the woman.

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

"How are you feeling?" Callie asked looking at the girl on the table. Raven tried to give a smirk but all that happened was her forcing out a grimace.

"I'm doing awesome." She said through clenched teeth. Finn shook his head next to her while he held her hand. "She's lying."

Before anyone could reply, Abby came walking in wearing a worried look on her face. Raven sighed as she walked over. "I know that face. Just spit it out Abby." The young girl said with fear in her eyes. Abby sighed as she sat on the stool next to the girl.

"The bullet is still shifting. That's why you're in so much pain." The woman said quietly. "I was hoping it would stabilize by now."

"So how about taking it out?" 

"Raven the bullet is pressing on your spine. If we leave it in you will never walk again." Abby said while Raven tried to sit up.

"So take it out." The girl repeated again with more force. Callie walked over and placed her hand on Ravens leg.

"Raven, the surgery could kill you. We have no equipment, no anesthesia." Callie said chewing on her lip. "You would be able to feel everything."

"Will I walk again."

"Maybe, but you'd be awake the entire time." Abby said slowly.

"Then let's do this." Raven said as she looked at both women with a determined look on her face. Finn shook his head and gripped her hand harder.

"Raven you could die." He said hoping to talk her out of it. Ravens face as she looked over was full of pain, but not from a bullet in her back.

"Look, in Zero G I don't need my legs. Down here I do.." She said slowly. Looking at the women she nodded. "Take it out."

It didn't take long for the women to get the room ready. Abby kept tutting about how dangerous this was and that she didn't like it but Callie knew Raven well enough to know that if she set her mind to something there was no changing it. Callie and Abby got things ready to go as Finn was whispering to Raven. Callie knew that he was worried about her and she didn't blame him.

Abby stood behind the girl as she lifted the scalpel. Callie was standing next to her ready to hand her anything and help. "Okay Raven. We are starting." Abby said quietly. As the blade touched the girls skin, she started to scream.

"Stop." Raven yelled. "I'm scared." Callie's heart broke as she heard the fear in her voice. Finn shook his head and gripped her hand tighter. "Just keep focusing on me." Looking up at the women he nodded. "She's ready."

Abby nodded as she continued. Callie tried to ignore the screaming as they tried to save Raven's life.

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

Kane walked into the tent as Callie was cleaning up. Nodding at him, the redhead headed out of the door as Abby came up to him.

The woman watched how his eyes never left his daughter as she crossed her arms and leaned up against the table next to them. Raven was sleeping soundly and she was tired.

"How is she?" Marcus finally asked looking at Abby.

"Well, she survived surgery." Abby said. "Don't ask me how. She's a courageous girl that's for sure."

Marcus nodded rubbing his face. "They all are. Bellamy is ready to get back out there and do something."

"So is Callie. You and Amara raised a strong girl Marcus." Abby said quietly putting a hand on his arm. She knew that it had been tough between them even before the events of the past few months happened.

"Yeah, unfortunately it might get her killed."

"She just wants to help her friends." Abby said turning fully towards him. Marcus noted the look in her eyes and sighed. "We all want to find them. But not without knowing who and what we are up against."

"You didn't send out the search teams...did you" Abby left the sentence as more of a statement than a question. The look on the mans face was sad when he went to answer her.

"They were crucified. I'm sorry Abby but i've made my choice and until we know more no one is leaving the camp." He said walking away.

Callie had gone outside to get some air and see if she could find Bellamy. Sadly it looked like her dad still had him in lock up. Sighing the girl turned to go that way when she bumped into a solid form.

"Whoa there Kane, don't fall over." Jason said laughing as he steadied the girl. Callie returned the laugh and looked into those sky blue eyes that she had gotten so familiar with over the last year.

Jason had met Callie when he was working with her dad. From there they hung out and after everything with Bellamy, they had started seeing each other. Nothing too serious but Callie did care about him.

"Yeah, last thing I need to do is get hurt again." She said shaking her head as her hand went to her throat. Abby had looked at and cleared her when they got back to camp, but Callie knew that the bruises were still there.

Jason's eyes darkened as he looked at them. "Did he do this to you?" He asked touching her neck gently. Callie's face went from confused to shocked in a matter of seconds as his questioned registered in her head.

"What?! No, god no." She said, shaking her head. "This wasn't Bellamy. He wouldn't do that to me." Jason scoffed and Callie knew what he was thinking. "He really isn't all that bad. If you guys could get over your dick swinging competition then I think you might actually get along."

Jason was in the guard, he trained with Bellamy so he knew the details of what had happened. He also knew that Callie hung out with him all the time and the guy would be lying if he said that he wasn't jealous.

"There's no competition Cal. The guy is a loose canon most of the time and I just don't trust him." He said shrugging. "Besides, I'm not really here to talk about him."

Callie sighed as she saw Abby walking up to her behind Jason. "Calliope can you come with me? I just need your help with some things." The woman said. Callie shot her a confused look but nodded and said goodbye to the other man.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Abby turned towards Callie. "You're meeting up with Finn. He's going to get Bellamy and you guys are going to get the kids." The woman said grabbing Callie's shoulders. "That boy, Jason. Can you trust him?" Abby asked. Callie was still getting over the shock that the woman was directly disobeying her father and only nodded.

"Good. Go, Finn is going to meet you by where they are keeping the boys." Abby said before she walked off. Callie spun on her heel and went to meet Finn, finally seeing the boy standing against the wall in the hallway.

"There you are." He said pushing himself off of it. "We only have a small window to grab Bellamy and get the hell out of here." Finn looked around before motioning for Callie to follow him. The next guard shift hadn't come yet and he had pulled out the key card he swiped and unlocked the door. Monroe and Stirling were located a few feet apart from each other down the hall looking out.

Bellamy's head rose when he heard the door open and was surprised to see Callie walk in with Finn. "Red, what's going on?" He asked as she came over and took the cuffs off him. Pulling him up she shot him that famous smile and squeezed his hand.

"It's a jailbreak. We are going after the others." Callie fixed her jacket as Bellamy walked over to Murphy and picked him up too. "What are you doing?" Finn asked him as he started leading Murphy towards the door.

"He's been to the grounder camps. He comes with us." Bellamy said as Finn tried to stand in front of him. The boys had a stare down as Callie rolled her eyes and looked over at Murphy and shrugged. Monroe popped her head back in and broke whatever was going on.

"Hey guys, Sterling signaled. Someones coming." She said quietly as the five of them hurried and got out of the room. Going the opposite way from the guard, they slipped out a back door and towards the break in the fence that led into the woods.

Callie's hand squeezed Bellamy's as they made their way into the dark trees. A noise behind them made the group jump as Abby appeared from the bushes. "You're late." She said tutting as another figure made his way out from behind her.

"Yeah well Bellamy decided to bring company." Finn said looking at Murphy.

Jason looked at Callie and her hand intertwined with Bellamy's and his jaw clenched. "I figured you guys could use a little more help." Abby said motioning to the other man. Callie took a deep breath and nodded knowing more hands the better.

Abby handed off a few weapons to the group and sighed. "Bring them home you guys." She said as they all nodded. Callie stepped forward and gave the woman a hug. Pulling back, Abby cupped Callie's cheek and smiled. "Stay safe." She said before leaving them all with one last look and turning around.

"Lets go. We need to be as far away from here as possible when they realize you guys are missing." Callie said as everyone picked up a bag that was waiting for them full of supplies. Heading into the darkness Callie hoped that this wasn't a bad idea.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake x oc #the 100 #the 100 rewrite #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 x reader

[for-ests]

Come Undone (p.2) - Colin Ritman

Word count: 2, 790 

Part 1 

No warnings for this chapter

By the time you reached Stefan's front door, the nerves that had pulsed through your veins vanished.

Whatever Colin had promised to tell you could wait. Right now, you had to comfort Stefan. You had to share your ideas and inspire him. Or at least try.

You knocked timidly, unsure if his father was home. You knew their relationship was strained since Stefan's diagnosis. You did not know the reasons why, and felt like you weren't good enough friends with him to pry. It was his business after all, yet you still hoped he would tell you what was happening with him. You were worried.

The front door opened a few seconds later.

"Oh, Y/N. Come in." Mr. Butler smiled. "Would you like anything to drink?" He asked while ushering you inside.

"Water would be just fine." You grinned back, happy to see the older man. Despite the at home conditions, he always made sure you were comfortable and taken care of.

You followed Mr. Butler into the kitchen. He handed you a glass of water. "So are you here for Stefan's game? It's been a while since you've been over."

"Yeah, not since high school." You laughed, taking a sip from the glass. "I don't know if he's told you but I'm making the background music."

"Unfortunately he hasn't told me much. But I'm glad you're here for him." A sad look flashed across his face, but only for a moment. You barely noticed through his overbearing smile.

"Me too. He's pretty reserved."

"Well, he should be in his room. Feel free to ask me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mr. Butler." You waved, parting from him to retreat to Stefan's bedroom. You could hear music admitting softly from behind his closed door. Maybe he forgot you were supposed to come over.

You sighed. Maybe you weren't. You were already having memory problems as it was. You knocked. "Stefan? It's me Y/N."

"Come in."

You opened the door slowly, not surprised to find Stefan in his desk chair, hunched over the computer screen. He lifted his head only for a moment, to greet you with a warm smile.

"How's the game?" You asked, slipping out of your jacket and laying it on his bed. The plastic bag that contained the purchased vinyls crinkled as you held them up. "I got what you recommended."

"Thanks, Y/N." He nodded to the record player in the corner of his room, ignoring the first part of your sentence. "Why don't you put one on?"

"Sounds good." You decided to leave Stefan's dismissal alone. You could tell he was trying not to reveal how stressed he was.

Silence stretched comfortably between the two of you as you unwrapped the plastic film on the first vinyl. You stared down at it, reflecting on the memory that had flashed through your mind the first time you held it. Why only one?

Rolling your eyes, you set up the track. You smiled to yourself as the music started to quietly play.

"Who recommenced this to you first?" You asked, pulling up a spare chair and sitting next to him as he typed away. You already knew the answer, but wanted to see if Stefan had any idea as to what you were going through.

It took him a moment to reply, since he was so focused on trying to encrypt another pathway for one of the final ending sequences.

"Colin Ritman, from work."

"Cool." You tried to say with enthusiasm. But really, it just proved that everything Colin had told you was true.

"Do you know of him?"

"He must be pretty cool if he works at Tuckersoft." You chuckled bitterly.

Stefan's fingers hovered of the keyboard. He turned to look at you, pausing his coding to glance at your expression. "Why do I have the feeling that you don't like him?"

Your eyes widened at the confrontation. Was your discomfort that obvious?

"No, no that's not it..." You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse. You wanted Stefan to know, but there was no way to explain what was happening to you the way Colin did.

Yet, if he was going to invite you to Colin's house—wouldn't he have some sort of idea? Could he possibly be reliving the same day over again on purpose? No... no, that would be impossible. You really hoped that wasn't the case. You would hate yourself if you had caused another person to become 'intertwined in your timeline' as Colin had put it.

"I met Colin at the store." You said, trying to play the interaction off as one that would be casual— even if it was nothing of the sort. You couldn't get him out of your mind.

"Yeah?" Stefan chuckled. "How did that go?"

"He's a character." Was all you could think to say without going into depth.

"He really is." Stefan paused, his eyes seeming to relax as he listened to the music. "Speaking of which, would you wanna come with me to Colin's place tonight?—"

The hairs on the back of your neck shot up at the mention of his name. Colin had predicted the exact question Stefan would ask you. Truthfully, you had hoped it would never be brought up—going to his place. You were nervous as to what would happen when you were alone with him. If Colin really was telling the truth, you having sex with him had already happened 4 other times.

"Y/N?" Stefan's confused tone brought you out of your thoughts. You then realized he hasn't stopped talking the entire time.

"S-sorry." You muttered, plastering a smile on your face. "I'm really tired."

"It's okay, you really don't have to come if you don't want to. I just think it would be a great collab for you. He makes games and might be in need of someone to make the background music."

"Are you saying I should snake my way in?" You teased, nudging him to make up for your lame excuse.

"No, it's not like that." Stefan rolled his eyes. "Just to get your name in the circle. My game won't be published for another few weeks. He releases games like clockwork."

"You really don't have to do that for me, Stefan." You could not help but smile at his kindness. You didn't know if it was because the universe was working in your favor, or if Stefan genuinely wanted to help you. You decided on the second option. The universe was definitely not working in your favor.

The boy laughed at your gratitude. "I'm not doing much."

"Still." You sighed, glancing at the computer screen as it started to glitch. The face of the bandersnatch villain appeared, a face you felt like you had seen before, somewhere in your deep subconscious. But you knew this was the first time you had glanced at it today. It must be another one of those memories.

"Shit." Stefan grumbled, clicking a few buttons to pause the acceleration of the game. "I forgot to pause and it started on it's own."

"Is that the villain?"

"Yep, think he's scary enough?" He asked without looking at you, turning his attention to the computer screen, determined to save his progress.

You studied the screen. "With the proper jump scare."

He seemed satisfied with your simplistic answer. Your honest opinion was one he cherished. From one creator to another.

"So you'll come?" Stefan asked, hopeful.

Either way, you'll go with him. Either way, you won't be able to resist me.

You swallowed hard as Colin's words rang clear in your mind. "Sure, since you're so insistent."

"I just think it will be good for you!"

"No, you just miss me." You stuck your tongue out. "Nothing wrong with admitting it."

Stefan shook his head, not even trying to cover up his sarcastic smirk. "Just read a book or something so I can finish this path. Then we can head over."

You knew he meant it in a good way, but before you could mind your own business, Mr. Butler's words echoed in your mind. Stefan wasn't doing well, and you needed to see for yourself if he was doing okay. You knew he was happy to see you yet something felt off. He reminded you of the way you were feeling, an identical reflection. You heard Stefan's fingers click against the keyboard. You swirled around in the office chairs, trying to convey your words as unsuspecting as possible.

"So... How are you holding up?" You felt like the Stefan's guard had been let down enough for him to answer truthfully. He really struggled with admitting his feelings, something you tried to relate to. You couldn't help that you were a straightforward and confident person when it came to your own problems.

That's why keeping the information you had discovered was so hard not to share.

Stefan stared at you for a long moment, as if he was trying to decipher your true motives. But he knew you wouldn't ask if you were not concerned.

"I'm fine." His eyes darted away.

"Wow! You convinced me." You leaned forward, daring him to look you in the eye and admit the truth. "What's wrong... really?"

"I don't know, Y/N...." He began to fiddle with his hands, now that he wasn't able to occupy his nerves with completing the task in front of him. "I'm going to sound crazy."

You thought about your own peril. "I highly doubt it."

Your genuine compassion seemed to soften the atmosphere. There was a long stretch of silence before he finally uttered what he was thinking. "I feel... like someone else is controlling me."

Your stomach flipped. So he was going through the same thing you were, at least—sort of.

"What do you mean?"

"My thoughts feel similar, my movements do. I feel like someone is telling me what to do, and that I have no option to disobey them. I even feel like we've had this conversation before."

Your eyes widened. "Stefan, you're not crazy. I feel the same to. This whole day has felt like I've already lived it before. I knew you were going to ask me to go to Colin's. I knew Colin had recommended the music to you before you even told me."

Stefan turned to you, the purest form of relief flickering across his face. "So I'm not alone in this?"

You laughed. "Of course not!"

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head and trying to make sense of it all. "At least we are starting to figure this out. I thought it was my meds- even though I've been taking them..." Stefan seemed troubled, as if your confirmation had only left him with more questions. Truthfully, that was also how you felt. Yet at the same time, you had never felt so at peace. You knew you could go through this with Stefan by your side. At least you were not going through it alone.

"I'm having flashbacks. I remember us at Colin's. When we touched, he saw it too. He knows whatever we don't, at least I think. He knows more than he's letting on."

"That's just how he is." Stefan smiled. "I'll ring him and we can head over once I finish this path?"

"Sounds great." You stood up from the chair, letting yourself collapse onto Stefan's bed in the need for some shut eye. The record was still playing, providing a calm atmosphere for you to rest. Something inside you, told you that you needed some sleep before whatever was going to happen later that night.

You had to figure out what you were doing wrong, or else—you might be stuck in this loop forever.

✧✦✧

Your footsteps echoed down the long stretch of hallway that lead to Colin's apartment. It was nothing like the lone and peaceful flower-decorated pathway that led to Stefan's house. Instead, you were greeted with stairwells upon stairwells, and the strong stench of marijuana. Your mother had warned you about venturing into tall apartment buildings like this. Ones that promised the benefits of luxury, but inside, hid the dark secrets of how one came to be so wealthy.

Stefan seemed as precautious as you. Usually, he would walk ahead of you due to the distance in your height. But now, he stayed in pace with you. Neither of you knew Colin that well, even if your flashbacks convinced you otherwise.

"I don't know why he would live here. I know damn well he's rich." The boy muttered.

"Perhaps he wants to stay humble." You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Even if both of you were incredibly nervous. Neither of you were that adventurous outside of your own minds.

Stefan unfolded the address he had jotted down earlier when he was on the phone with Colin. He stopped walking, and you followed suit.

"I think this is his apartment." The boy shrugged, glancing at it. You could hear music playing loudly from inside.

You sighed, raising your fist against the door to produce the loudest knock you could. Colin opened the door with barely a second to spare. You knew it was because he was expecting your arrival.

"Stefan." He nodded, cracking the door open wider. "Y/N."

"Nice to see you again." You smiled, entering his apartment. You wondered how many times you had been through this interaction, and what your other timelines had said. That thought alone terrified you.

"I would introduce you, but Y/N tells me you've already met." Stefan said with a lighthearted expression. He shut the door behind him.

"In this timeline and in others." Colin's eyes lingered on you for longer than they should have. You rolled your eyes, skin prickling under his gaze. There was just something about him that you couldn't shake. You walked past the two of them and sat on Colin's couch, hoping to hide the blush that started to dust your cheeks.

"About that..." Stefan started, following your figure in confusion. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Y/N said that she's going through the same thing as me. We were wondering if you could help us."

Colin looked at the both of you, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. "I'm not sure. If we have all relived this day, then I don't think whatever happens over the next few hours is the reason behind it. It must be something in the future. One of us has done something that pissed off the universe. One of you is neglecting your responsibilities because its not me." He sighed. "Regardless, the universe is giving us another chance to fix it."

"I just want to figure it out this time." You gritted your teeth. Not knowing had become bothersome.

"I think we will." Colin replied. "Certain things are supposed to happen, but others we can fix. At least we aren't completely oblivious anymore."

Stefan's eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you. "If we all have preconceived knowledge about the mistakes we made last time, then I don't see why not."

"I don't remember everything." You leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees. "That's what it comes down to, I guess. Realizing what choices were right, and which ones were a mistake."

"What if it isn't up to us anymore?"

"It is now. I know it may feel like it isn't, but nobody can make you do something you don't want to do." Colin's voice softened as he regarded Stefan's hopeless question. You knew Stefan was taking this hard since he was already anxious from the work load of his game.

"I know what it takes, I've been in the hole more times than I'd like to admit." The blonde set his hand reassuringly on Stefan's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. You did not know if Colin had given him this advice before. Perhaps Colin now knew the weight his words held in Stefan's eyes. From the looks of it, this was the first time you were having this conversation. To you, change was a good start to avoiding whatever path you kept falling into.

All of this information was overwhelming, trying to search the depths of your mind for memories that did not technically happen yet. "Do you have any alcohol?" You sighed breathlessly, not meaning to break the bro-moment they were having. You just needed something to relieve the tension building up inside of you, and that was all you could rationalize at the moment.

Colin kicked back on the couch with a smug smile upon his lips. "I have something better than that. Something that will help us see the bigger picture.”

#colin ritman #will poulter #bandersnatch #bandersnatch imagine #black mirror bandersnatch #colin ritman imagine #colin ritman one shot #colin ritman fic #will poulter fic #x reader #fanfiction #colin ritman x reader

[kerfufflewatch]

ah, what’s better than writing siblings being incredibly awkward (and also Lucio’s there)

(with a hint of Gencio)

(which is why Lucio’s there)

--

52.) Accidentally Witnessed kiss +

67.) When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More

Genji is in the med bay past visiting hours because he likes it to be empty when he needs his care, because no matter how comfortable he is now with his body, he still feels vulnerable when he has to have someone start pulling bits of metal off. It's simply easier to limit the number of people examining his body, and that is easier done after hours. He’s not sure why the figure sneaking through the window is in the med bay, however.

The healthcare-slash-maintenance portion of his visit is over, but Genji had found an excuse to linger in helping Lúcio gather supplies from the back room. Genji had been a little reluctant, at first, to let anyone other than Angela work with him, but Angela’s so busy nowadays with the care needs of an entire team. Besides, Lúcio had proven himself to a quick study--and rather pleasant company, if Genji’s being truthful. Genji squints into the darkened bay, which is unlit except for the light slanting through the closed office blinds nearby, and finally recognizes the darkened silhouette as Hanzo.

Hanzo, who is quietly, carefully, pulling up a chair next to the bed where McCree lay.

“What in the hell,” Genji says aloud, unthinking. Lúcio immediately snaps his head up and follows Genji’s gaze around the corner.

“What the hell,” he agrees mildly. “Isn’t that your brother? Did he come through the window?”

McCree had been asleep when they passed through earlier, but there’s some shifting of the shadowy lump in the bed now. The bedside lamp snaps on, casting bright light on both of their faces, and Genji can’t help grimacing.

McCree looks awful. Par for the course, all things considered, considering he had been thrown out of a second-story balcony earlier that day and tumbled ten feet across London cobblestone after taking a plasma round to the ribs. He would live, and really had not come all that close to death in the first place, but his injuries were severe enough to worry. Despite Angela’s healing, the right side of his face is still a gruesome canvas of red and purple bruises under scabbing abrasions, and squares of gauze peek out from under his hospital shirt.

Genji glances at Lúcio, who gives him a helpless shrug back. They should reveal themselves and put away their supplies, but whatever moment it is that requires Hanzo to sneak into the bay at night--for McCree, of all people--is a moment that feels too delicate to interrupt.

“Not that I’m complainin’, but what are you doin here so late?” McCree asks, asking the question on everyone’s minds.

“I . . . wanted to see that you were well,” Hanzo says slowly, addressing his folded hands in his lap. “The debriefing took too long, and I was unable to get here before the med bay was closed for the night.”

McCree laughs quietly, weak with exhaustion. “You coulda come by tomorrow,” he says. “I’m not goin’ anywhere for a couple days. Doctor’s orders.”

Hanzo smiles, but it is a bit forced. He asks just how McCree was injured--he was far away when the incident occurred, sniping from a rooftop--and as they talk, Genji feels a deep, growing sense of suspicion.

“So, uh,” Lúcio says awkwardly, quietly. He shifts the box in his hands. “Are they a thing? I didn’t think they were.”

Genji shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I would have known.”

He’s joked, of course, that Hanzo clearly had some deep-seated romantic feelings for McCree that he was too stubborn to even notice, let alone act upon, but he never had anything concrete. This could just be the standard Hanzo level of melodrama while he visits a friend, but Genji isn’t so certain.

That’s not even getting started on McCree’s “is he serious or not” flirting for the past eight months.

“Huh.” Lúcio shifts again. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable, not just tired of the weight in his arms. “I mean, I don’t know your brother all that well, but that seems like a thing.”

“I mean, you are not wrong.”

Lúcio laughs a little, prompting Genji to look back at him. “Sorry,” Lúcio says, “it’s just--it’s really hard to imagine Hanzo being into anyone.”

“No, I don’t blame you,” Genji says. “Even when we were young, he was not very interested in others. I only know of a couple people he showed interest in at all.”

“Now that sounds right.” Lúcio leans around Genji to sneak a better peek at the scene, then back again quickly before he can be caught. It’s decidedly unstealthy, but Genji finds it amusing nonetheless.

“Though to be honest,” he adds after a moment, “I did not expect this out of McCree, either.”

“Really? Don’t get me wrong, he’s cool and all, but there also isn’t a person on this team he hasn’t flirted with.”

Genji laughs quietly. “That is true,” he says. “But he’s . . . He has his own demons. Everyone here does. He’s been very careful, compared to when I knew him when Overwatch was still official.” McCree is still far friendlier than Hanzo and one of the more sociable members of the team overall, but Genji knows the difference. The McCree of ten years ago drank a lot less whiskey, faked a lot fewer smiles, spent so many fewer days locked in his dorm claiming a bad night.

The Recall has been good for them both, he thinks.

“Yeah,” Lúcio says after a moment. “I guess that’s true. He hasn’t told me much, but I get some of it. Guess it’s--”

“Because you were being a fool!” Hanzo snaps suddenly, startling them out of their conversation. They both look back simultaneously to find Hanzo glaring at McCree, leaning forward as though trying to threaten the bedridden man.

“C’mon now,” McCree says, unfazed. Somehow, he looks like he’s smiling in the face in the face of Hanzo’s anger. “Wasn’t nothin’ I don’t do on a regular basis.”

“You were hurt because you were not paying attention,” Hanzo growls.

“I was payin’ plenty of attention. I knew the guy was there when he shot me. He just got the upper hand, which happens sometimes.”

Hanzo looks like he wants to yell again, but abruptly, the fight seems to drain out of him. He slouches in his seat with a heavy exhale. “I am sorry,” he says. “I did not come here to yell at you. I am well aware that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself.”

“What’s got you so bothered? This is hardly the first time I’ve gotten hurt. Sure it won’t be the last, either.”

Hanzo doesn’t answer for a long time, unmoving. Genji finds himself holding his breath. Hanzo lifts a hand, hesitates, starts to take it back, and ultimately rests it on the bed. It’s only by McCree’s reaction--suddenly staring down at the space in disbelief--that Genji realizes Hanzo must have taken his hand.

More words are spoken. Genji can’t hear, but he can guess well enough at the nature of them. “Wow I wish we’d gotten out of here like five seconds faster,” Lúcio says.

Hanzo looks down at their joined hands on the bed, then up again. Then he leans in suddenly, and Genji can’t quite contain the strangled noise he makes when he sees his brother kiss McCree.

“Holy shit,” Lúcio breathes beside him. Genji internally echoes the sentiment.

There is a moment where, despite Hanzo initiating a kiss, McCree does not respond, and Genji slowly tenses. This is Hanzo baring his soul, and his brother might be a grown adult and McCree one of his oldest friends, but if he has to witness McCree push Hanzo away when there is no good reason to do so--

But then McCree softens and kisses back, and Genji lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Genji tries to tear his eyes away, distinctly aware that he is watching his brother and his close friend in a deeply intimate moment, but he’s drawn back when Hanzo suddenly pulls away. “I am sorry,” he says, barely loud enough to be heard. “You are hurt, and this is . . . sudden. Are you certain you--”

“God, Hanzo, for once in your life just shut the fuck up,” McCree breathes before pulling Hanzo back in with a hand around his neck. Genji chokes on a poorly-suppressed laugh, and beside him, Lúcio snorts with amusement. They both look away, realizing they’ve spent too long watching what is happening, Genji in particular aware that he is watching his older brother engaged in a passionate kiss with their mutual friend and teammate.

But . . . awkward as it is, it’s nice to see Hanzo going for something, for once. Allowing himself to have something.

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to go on much longer than a few more seconds. He soon hears murmuring between the two of them, nothing that he can understand, followed by a chair scraping on the floor. A moment later, the window gently slides open and shut, and the med bay is entirely silent.

“Well then,” Lúcio says mildly. “We just watched McCree and your brother get together. That’s something.”

“It’s something,” Genji agrees.

Lúcio fidgets a little with the box he still folds, looking at the top. “It’s kinda sweet, though,” he says after a moment. “Awkward, but it’s nice that they got something like that, you know? In the middle of all this stuff that we do for Overwatch, that they managed to find something good.” He smiles up at Genji, and Genji’s heart does an odd little stutter at that.

Before he can decide what that means and what to do about it, they are interrupted by the sound of McCree loudly, intentionally, clearing his throat.

“I wasn’t asleep when you went by the first time,” he says. “And I ain’t seen you come out. So I highly recommend you finish your business and get on out of here before I change my mind and tell Hanzo you were there the whole damn time.”

#kerfuffle fic #kiss prompts #mchanzo #overwatch #the posting process for this fic: #''hey tumblr it's 9/16 do you think you could post this at 7pm tomorrow'' #''sure thing kerfuffle!'' #''excuse me tumblr it's now 9/17 at 7:11 pm why isn't this posted and why does it now say to post 9/18'' #''because fuck you is why''

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -12- FINAL

A/N: what a brilliant journey! thank you ALL for your incredible support and feedback. you all mean the world to me. I’m extremely proud of this whole series and I hope the ending satisfies you all. (A note for the end: I am not a lyricist so I stole Sugarland’s “Little Miss” and made it Emma’s. Highly recommend you give it a listen to give yourself the full picture while you read)

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, family angst, Finality (TM)

Word count: 7.9k (ta daaaa!)

“Now put yer teeny little fingers there… and there.”

Emma obeyed. Emma always obeys.

Grandpa Norm stroked the strings and a pretty noise came out. Emma looked down, eyes wide.

“See, lil girl? You can do it.”

Emma lies in bed, bare feet planted on her Ravenclaw duvet, staring at the ceiling. She’s blasting Shawn’s latest album from her multi-thousand dollar stereo system with her hands folded over her stomach and she’s never felt more like a moody teenager.

She’s never been allowed to be a moody teenager, so maybe this was some sort of box she had to check to level up.

She closes her eyes and he’s there again, face red and panicked, fingers gripping her car window as he jogged to keep up. She didn’t look back when they drove away toward Reagan National for the red-eye back to LAX. She couldn’t.

She drafted six different long-winded texts between the security line and landing in Los Angeles. She sent none of them.

It’s not so much that she had to leave him – she knew that was coming in a few weeks when tour ended anyway. She’s been emotionally preparing for that. It’s more the disappointment she knows he felt at her giving in to Sandra. That’s why she was so desperate to explain it to him – he has to know about the trump card. He has to understand.

She waits until she’s striding into her house, Sandra trailing behind tapping away on her phone, to call him. It’s 4am in LA which means it’s 7am in Boston but she’s betting it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t imagine he slept either.

He answers on the first ring and listens while she sobs out the whole story, the whole sordid affair. He spits curses about Sandra in between her ragged breaths but lets her get it out. She knows he wants to protest, wants to tell her she should’ve stood up. But Emma knows Sandra. She knows when she’s bluffing. And she wasn’t.

“So… that’s it? You’re confined to your room?” he whispers.

She looks around. “Yeah. Or the house, at least. Ashley’s called me about eighty times since we were papped at LAX this morning. I’ll give you one guess who arranged that Kodak moment.”

Shawn sympathizes as much as he can, but he’s angry and she can hear it in his voice. She understands. She’s angry too. She’s so angry she can’t see straight. But she’s so tired. He talks to her until she falls asleep and then he leaves for the gym, sending her a text with a heart emoji and a promise to call her again later.

It’s been eight days since Emma has left the house. She’s trying to do the math in her head of how many hours that is when something taps her leg. She looks over at Georgie who’s lying in the same position, her bony knees pointed up at the ceiling, looking pensive. Georgie nods at the speakers. Emma turns down “Where Were You In the Morning.”

“Are you hungry?”

Emma nods. Georgie nods back and hops off the bed, scurrying in fuzzy purple socks out the bedroom door, closing it on her way out.

Georgie arrived the evening after Sandra and Emma got back to Hollywood. Emma was asleep – she slept all day after she and Shawn talked. Georgie crept into Emma’s room, turned on the lamp and crawled into bed.

Emma stirred. “G?”

Georgie’s wise old eyes stared back at her. She was expressionless, a face only a sister, another half of a soul could read.

Emma’s face crumpled until she was racked with sobs. Georgie dragged her face into her shoulder and rocked her until she calmed and fell asleep again.

The next morning, Sandra announced she and Georgie would be moving in and they’d all be spending time at home for a while to “regroup.” It was essentially Sandra-enforced house arrest. Georgie screamed, slammed doors, threw a fit unlike Emma had ever seen. But she was too tired to fight. She just watched.

She doesn’t leave the room now. She can’t look at Sandra’s face. She’s afraid she may claw it off. Georgie calmed down after her initial outburst and plays liaison now, occasionally relaying messages and couriering food.

Georgie returns to her sister’s boyfriend’s voice blasting through the wall. She closes the door again and climbs on the bed, offering Emma a plate of grapes, cheese and crackers. Emma plants a wet kiss on her cheek and Georgie sneers and giggles.

Georgie waves at the music again. Emma turns it down reluctantly, wanting to drown herself in the emotion of “Why.”

“Can I ask you something?” Georgie murmurs, smacking her lips like she always does when she eats. Emma shrugs and pops a grape in her mouth.

“What was your first time like?”

Emma’s jaw goes still mid-chew. Without meaning to, she relives her first sexual experience in fast-forward mode in her head, raising her eyebrows and wincing slightly.

Georgie snorts. Emma hears an anxious tone in it.

“That bad?”

Emma runs her tongue along her bottom lip, considering how to answer. “Honestly? Yeah. It hurt. I wasn’t ready. And it didn’t mean anything to him. It didn’t really mean that much to me, either.”

Georgie schools a calm look on her face. Emma takes another grape between her fingers, studying it.

“What’s up, G? Are you having sex?”

Emma’s heart pounds when she asks like she’s a nervous mom. She feels like one sometimes. Someone ought to around here.

Georgie’s quiet a beat too long. “I might be about to.”

Emma wants to crawl under the bed. She’s so horrified that she knows nothing about this, has no clue who her sister could be considering sleeping with. She’s been so wrapped up in her own shit, insulated by fame and Shawn and her own fucking ego. She feels nauseous but keeps a straight face as she encourages Georgie to go on.

“I’ve been talking to Holland Dittrich’s older brother Josh.”

“Jooooosh,” Emma teases in a deep voice, rolling her eyes, “That’s such a teenage boy name. Where do all the Joshes go after they turn 21? It’s like they disappear.”

Georgie snickers. “Shut up. He’s cool. He’s a rising senior at Belfort. Captain of the lacrosse team. He wants to go to Stanford pre-med. He’s like, perfect. He likes the same music as me. I even played him “Lost in Japan” last week and he really liked it. Like, I could tell he was into it.”

Emma picks at her grape and smiles gently. She kind of loves that liking Shawn’s music is a metric Georgie’s using for boys now. Shawn will like it too when Emma tells him.

“Have you been out with him?”

“Not yet. We’re catching a movie this weekend. I think he’s going to ask me to Homecoming in the fall.”

Emma nods like seasoned big sisters are supposed to even though she’s never been to a school dance in her life. Well, that’s not strictly true – she’s been to a set of a school dance for Fake It and had her first onscreen kiss there. She doesn’t think that experience counts, though.

“And you’re thinking about having sex with him.” Emma’s repeating it out loud more for herself than for Georgie. She’s trying to wrap her head around the idea.

“I mean, yeah. Seems like a good idea. He’s nice, he likes me. He’s had girlfriends before so he probably knows what he’s doing.”

Emma sews her mouth shut over the words “THAT’S NO GUARANTEE” springing up.

She stays casual. “Yeah, if he’s good to you, if you want to do it, sure. I have condoms. Always bring your own.”

Georgie smiles in that unnervingly wise way she does. “That’s not what I mean, Em. I just… I don’t know if I want to wait for someone I love.”

Shawn’s rosy face and perfect smile appears in Emma’s mind. Her heart aches. It’s all she can do not to reach for her phone and call him just to hear his voicemail.

She nods, sighing. “I hear that. I get it. Sex is a personal thing. But it doesn’t have to be with someone you love. I think it should at least be someone you like. I…” She trails off, shrugging.

“What?” Georgie prods.

Emma hesitantly continues. “Despite… everything, I don’t regret any of my sexual history. Yeah, my first time sucked. Most first times do. And I didn’t have sex with someone I loved at all until Shawn. And it was mind-blowing and so different,” she feels herself grinning and watches Georgie mirror it, “But there was a lot I learned about myself and men and sex before I got to that point and I don’t regret any of it.”

“Was… was it perfect with Shawn?”

Just there, Georgie goes from wise old owl to actual 16-year-old girl and Emma gets to feel like a competent older sister for once. She lends her a crooked smile.

“As close to perfect as anything can get. He was so… he was so gentle. And affectionate. And just… everything I wanted. Everything I deserved.”

Georgie nods thoughtfully. “I want that too. Someday.”

Emma pops her grape in her mouth and pats Georgie’s knee. “Hopefully you won’t have to wait too long. If Joooooosh feels right for the first time, do it. Enjoy it. Know it’ll probably get better, but learn from it. Learn what you like, what you’re into. And don’t be shy to tell him, boys like that, I promise.”

Georgie’s nodding again. Emma’s phone buzzes against her hip. Georgie snatches it away before Emma can answer.

“Hi Shawn!” Georgie quips, her voice going up an embarrassing several octaves that Emma will mock her for later.

“Hey Georgie,” Shawn chuckles, “How’s house arrest?”

“Fine. Emma and I are eating grapes and sulking in her room. How’s tour?”

Emma stiffens. Georgie immediately regrets the question. Shawn feels the change in tone and bites his lip.

“It’s ok. Not as fun now. Can I talk to Em?”

“Yeah,” Georgie murmurs, nodding, “Bye, Shawn.”

Emma takes the phone. Georgie takes the plate of food and scampers out of the bedroom.

Emma curls up on her side. “She’s asking me about sex.”

Shawn giggles. “Oh no.”

“Don’t laugh at me. Your sister’s not that much younger than mine.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Shawn whines, “I’m so not ready for that.”

“Yeah, well, when she starts asking questions, send her my way. Apparently I’m the guru.”

“Good to know,” Shawn hums, “What did you tell her?”

“She asked about my first time. I told her it was garbage and most first times are—” Shawn interrupts her with a snort of agreement, “But you learn and you grow and it’s better with someone you love but you don’t have to wait for that if you don’t want to.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Very wise.”

“She asked about us.”

She can hear Shawn’s reflective smile through the phone. She returns it.

“What did you say?”

“I told her it was as close to perfect as anything is in this stupid world.”

Shawn’s quiet. It’s a weighty silence – it’s an I love you silence, an I miss you silence, a why did you leave silence.

“I can’t lose her, Shawn. It would end me,” Emma whispers, closing her eyes and feeling threatening tears rub at her throat.

He’s quiet again for a few seconds. “I know. We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.”

The words are simple and seemingly unhelpful but from him, they feel good and real. They talk for another few minutes before he has to go to soundcheck and tries not to let her know that because he doesn’t want to remind her what she’s missing but he’s in the venue and does a lousy job of hiding from the loading in noise. She wishes him a good show and they exchange blushing I love yous like a couple of kids who are still getting used to the words.

+

Shawn’s little fingers curl into his fists. He can’t quite catch his breath. His jerking heaves of air are fluttering the sweaty curls on his forehead as he stomps out of the rink.

He’s never felt this before. He barely knows what this is. He thinks it’s rage, despair even, but he’s never seen it before, doesn’t know how to recognize it.

He’s been practicing so hard. He was in three different hockey camps this summer. Not making the travel team is the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone, and it’s just happened to him. He has no idea how to deal with this feeling. It’s swallowing him.

Shawn and anger are admittedly not well acquainted.

He’s seething on the sidewalk after he loses sight of the D.C. cab’s taillights. He can feel the heat radiating off him as his blood boils. He takes enormous steps back into the hotel. He doesn’t hear a word Andrew’s saying, only a dull ringing in his ears as the elevators carry him up to their floor. It’s not until Andrew follows him into his room and Shawn gets the chance to sit on the bed and gather himself that he even understands what he’s saying.

“You should’ve told me,” Andrew almost barks. Andrew doesn’t really get mad either. Especially not at Shawn. Shawn’s brow furrows.

“Told you what?”

“That you’re fucking Emma Kingston!” Andrew cries, throwing his hands out.

Shawn’s jaw juts out, clenching hard. He presses his balled fists into the bed.

“I am not fucking Emma Kingston. I’m in love with her.”

Andrew is silent, flabbergasted. His jaw hangs open. “You… what?”

“I love her. I’m in love with her. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. She’s got more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She knows more about music and the industry than anyone I’ve ever met, including you. She is so sharp and so funny and so thoughtful and so sexy and I’m crazy, stupid in love with her.”

Andrew suddenly looks exhausted. He has this way about him where he’s all energy until something hits him too hard and he just slumps. He sinks into a chair and hangs his face in his hands. Shawn bristles.

“Why does this fucking matter?”

“Why does it matter?” Andrew repeats in a half-crazed chuckle, “Because it does, Shawn! Because everything you do matters. Especially the romantic stuff. The driving force of your fanbase is female. Females that want to date you. So when you’re dating someone, it fucking matters.”

Shawn balks. “I’m not gonna not date someone because it’ll hurt business, Andrew!”

“I’m not saying that! I’m saying there’s a process to these things. One of the things we talked about when I signed on was honesty. Honesty always. I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the pieces. You should’ve fucking told me.”

“I couldn’t. If anyone on her team knew, especially once the Kyle Dillon thing started…”

“Yeah! The Kyle Dillon thing! You realize if this gets out it’s going to look like a weird love triangle? Or worse, like you stole Kyle’s girlfriend. Is that what you want?”

Andrew’s getting hysterical and it’s really pissing Shawn off. He hangs his head and closes his eyes to breathe.

“You know that’s not what I want. I… fuck, I didn’t mean to make your life harder, man, I just… I wanted to be with her. This was what she needed from me. I’m… I’m sorry, dude.”

Shawn’s apology seems to quiet Andrew’s frazzled brain. He nods his acceptance. They’re both quiet for a while, raking hands through their hair and thinking too hard.

“Well… it’s probably better she’s off the tour, then.”

Shawn perks up. “What?”

“Until we figure out how to approach this, you guys can’t be public. Every day you were together was a risk. You can’t see her again until we set up a strategy.”

“A strategy?” Shawn cries, “What the fuck? This is my life, Andrew!”

“Yeah!” Andrew bites back, “Your life! And you hired me to manage it. This is how this stuff goes when you’re Shawn Mendes. Dude, we’ve talked about this. You know we have. You knew this was never going to be easy. It’s harder when it’s someone like Emma who’s out there in the public eye with you. We need a strategy.”

Shawn fumes. He has half a mind to jump on a plane to LA and be seen making out with Emma very publicly somewhere just to buck the system but he can’t and he feels impotent and small. He’s not used to that.

Andrew leaves him there after a few minutes. He’s lying face up on his bed missing her so much already he can barely breathe.

He didn’t know it was going to be like this. He didn’t know that the shitty things that happened to her would feel like they happened to him too. He didn’t know he’d feel her wounds as deep as he feels his own. He’s tethered now and she’s across the country so he feels stretched and uncomfortable and breathless.

He closes his eyes, tries to play her song in his head. He hums it, bounces his knee, wills it to distract him.

His eyes open. He has an idea.

+

The tall, spindly woman kneels in front of Emma. She’s held in place by her father’s rough hands on her shoulders so she can’t run and hide behind her mother’s dress. Emma blinks.

“Hello, Emma. I’m Margaret. I’m going to help you become a star.”

Emma frowns and sees something she doesn’t like in the flat brown eyes staring back at her.

“Ok,” she whispers.

The other shoe had to drop eventually, Angelique reminds herself. It was all going too well. The transition from Margaret to her had been too seamless. With her finely honed senses and slight paranoia, she should’ve felt this coming. Her hackles should’ve been up.

She let her guard down. She finally felt comfortable with what she was doing, like she was in the right place at the right time managing the right person. Emma felt like her teammate.

She was loading into the bus when Shawn first sprinted past her red-faced looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Andrew followed quickly after, shooting her a firm glance.

“Call your client. She’s getting on a fucking plane.”

Angelique felt her stomach fall into her shoes. Whatever this is, it can’t fucking happen.

But it did. Emma went home without a fight. Sandra smugly responded to every email about tour cancellation details. She patronizingly yammered on about Emma needing “mental space” and “time with her beloved family” like she was writing a fucking press release instead of just lying to Angelique.

She’s between a rock and a hard place now, the rock being Emma, the hard place being the rest of Emma’s team who are clamoring for answers.

Emma was apologetic, to her credit. She explained the whole situation. Angelique was about to launch into a somewhat unprofessional and probably really inappropriate tirade about getting Georgie legally emancipated when she heard something in Emma’s voice that gave her hope.

She doesn’t have a name for it, whatever it was. It was a small tinkling of something underneath that told Angelique in her gut that this isn’t over yet. Angelique had been thinking of Emma like a boxer who’d been hit hard and was waiting for the countdown so the round could end. After that phone call, she realized something – Emma isn’t down for the count. She’s waiting. She’s resting up. She’ll come out swinging.

She’s not out of this yet.

+

“I don’t want another lesson,” Shawn insists in the middle seat in the back of his mom’s Volvo, “I just learned notes. I want to play a song.”

“Love, you have to learn the notes to play a song,” his mom says softly.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I can learn on YouTube faster than a lesson. Seriously.”

Karen relents. Let him learn on YouTube, she thinks. Maybe that’ll hold his interest.

Shawn sits cross-legged at the end of the stage, knees bouncing as the FaceTime ringtone blares at him mockingly.

Her face is warm and pink when she answers him. She’s just finished Pilaticardio, it looks like. He flushes at the idea of her in her tight Lululemon pants and shakes the idea from his head before it can sprout.

“Hey, you,” she greets. Her voice isn’t tired so much as her whole being seems tired. It makes him want to wrap her up in his arms and shut it all out. He can’t do that, so he tries something else.

“Got a surprise for you,” he says breathlessly, a little giddy, nodding and biting his lip.

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nods at someone off camera and suddenly he’s not holding the phone, “I’m passing you off to Geoff. I want to show you something.”

He hurries adorably to the center of the stage and thanks Joey the tech for the guitar he’s handed. Emma smiles, watching him get ready to command his space. Maybe he’s written something new.

He starts first. She knows within two seconds what he’s playing. And he didn’t write it.

She did.

He plucks expertly at his acoustic, bobbing his head, feeling her song in his bones. The breath leaves her body in a sweeping exhale. She doesn’t remember to breathe for a few seconds until the pounding of her heart races over the deep tones of the accompanying piano.

He closes his eyes and steps into the mic, brow wrinkling as he sings her words, sings her heart to an empty stadium. Each piece of her arrangement comes in like she told him, like she envisioned. The drums shake the song, indicate something big is coming. Shawn carries it forth, leading steadily into the throbbing pre-chorus, tapping his foot and shrugging a hand around the mic. The piano climbs with him, the drums steadily increase in volume until the song reaches a climactic pause. When it comes back in, she folds her hands over her mouth in shock.

It's everything she wanted, everything she imagined it could be. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s emotional, it’s her.

And he did it for her.

He plays through the whole song and she falls in love with it all over again. She recognizes every beat, every note, every choice made as her own. He’s playing it for her not as himself, but as her proxy. He’s made no customizations, no little twists. It’s just hers exactly as it’s meant to be.

As the last note fades out, Emma finally uncovers her mouth. Geoff comes around the camera to peek shyly at her reaction. She offers him a watery grin and he smiles back sincerely for the first time since she met him. He moves his head so Emma can see Shawn hustling to the front of the stage to get his phone back.

He’s rosy, a little sweaty and grinning with a mad look in his eye.

“So? Did you like it?”

Emma opens her mouth. A choked sob escapes where words were meant to be. She claps a hand over her mouth and coughs a laugh.

“It’s… it’s perfect. That was it, that was what I wanted. I… oh my god. I’m so—”

She cuts herself off, shaking her head. He gets it. He’s been blessed to have had this moment himself before – to watch his brain child songs get the live treatment, to feel real and big and beautiful. He knows how this feels. That’s why he wanted to give it to her.

“It’s yours, Em. You did that. You did all of it.”

Emma swallows. She tries to regulate her breathing, muttering about thanking his band for learning it, for playing it so beautifully, thanking Geoff for holding the damn phone. Shawn laughs.

“Face it, Emma Kingston. You’re a fuckin’ rockstar.”

Emma’s laugh bubbles and spills as her tears do. Shawn walks off with his phone for some privacy as she gets it out of her system and wrenches at her self-control.

“Thank you,” she manages through a throat full of snotty tears.

He bobs his head shyly. “It’s be alright, Em.”

+

Emma held Georgie’s pudgy little hand as they walked into Somerset School for Georgie’s first day of kindergarten. Being a rough and tumble second grader, Emma felt big and cool. She’s never seen a real first day of school before, only on sets. She’s glad these aren’t kids her age or she’d feel a lot less cool.

Georgie tugs at her hand. “What if I don’t make friends?”

Emma shakes her head. “You’ll make friends. Plus, even if you don’t, I’m your friend.”

On the 12th day of confinement, Emma and Georgie lie side by side on Emma’s bed. It’s not an unfamiliar position to them now.

Emma’s trying so hard not to feel it, but there’s something in the air. She tries not to think that it’s the last day of tour and Shawn’s playing the Barclays Center in Brooklyn and she tries not to feel like a part of her is there and she needs to go get it back.

But Emma doesn’t always get what she wants, so her efforts are pretty useless.

With a shaky sigh, she reaches her foot out and kicks Georgie’s leg to get her to turn down “Ruin.”

Georgie turns onto her side to regard her big sister. Emma looks a little less tired now. And resigned, somehow.

“G,” Emma whispers, and it’s the same voice she used when she told Georgie Grandpa Norm died while she was at camp, “It’s time to go talk to mom.”

Georgie shakes. She doesn’t know why. This is Emma’s fight, she’s just back up.

Even as she thinks it to herself, she knows it’s flatly untrue. Any fight of Emma’s is a fight of hers. And this, this fight, this cosmic inertia of mother and daughter, she’s a part of this too.

She’s a few paces behind Emma as they pad into the living room, unintimidating in pajamas at 11am.

Sandra is sitting on the couch in gym wear typing away at her phone with E! News on in the background. She doesn’t notice when they walk in.

“Mom,” Emma prompts. Georgie feels relieved not to hear a quiver in it.

Sandra’s head snaps up. She hasn’t seen or heard from her eldest daughter in days. She beams at her two girls who’ve come to see her.

“Hey babies,” she coos, setting her phone down, “Want to go get some lunch? Might be time to get Emma Jean back out in the world.”

“Mom, I love you,” Emma states.

Georgie’s eyes blow wide open. Sandra’s mirror them. To be honest, neither of them is sure of the last time Emma said that. Or any of them said that. They aren’t that kind of family.

“Babygirl, I love you too,” Sandra hums, her voice lowering, misunderstanding the direction of this.

“I love you and I don’t want to hate you anymore. So you need to leave my house.”

Sandra’s brow furrows. Her eyes briefly touch Georgie’s – she’s equally stunned. But Emma is a mountain that will not be moved. Not this time.

“Honey, we talked about this, I know it’s been a hard few months, a hard few years even, but this—“

“No. We’re not doing this again. I’m not gonna do this dance with you.”

Emma takes Georgie’s hand and tugs her forward. Georgie stumbles along behind her until they’re both sitting on the oversized ottoman facing their mother, who’s sitting straight as a rod.

“I’ve spent the last couple weeks thinking. I’ve been thinking about why it was easier for me to say the things I said to Margaret than it was to say them to you. I’ve been going over it and over it. It didn’t make sense. She was as much my mother as you ever were,” a flash of real human hurt crashes across Sandra’s face for a split second, “so why was it so different?

“The truth is, Margaret has always respected me a little more than you have. Maybe because I was always her client and I was always your daughter. And at the end of the day, she was never going to be permanent, no matter how entwined in my life she was. Not like you are.

“I think because you never respected me, I always feared you. Because I didn’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t ever really know until you threatened to take Georgie away from me.”

Georgie stares at Emma, feeling her face heat. It takes her a full few seconds before she can lift her eyes to Sandra’s. Sandra is looking back, pale as a ghost.

It’s not like Georgie didn’t know. Georgie knows all. Before Emma even told her why she agreed to leave tour, Georgie had an inkling. She knows Emma wouldn’t leave tour, leave Shawn for anything but her. Georgie is the trump card.

She stares at her mother, her unfeeling, judgmental wisp of a mother. She sees years of signed permission slips, missed band concerts, nearly forgotten birthdays. She sees a vapid hole of a woman who nearly sucked the life out of the person Georgie holds most dear. She sees nothing in Sandra.

“Emma Jean, don’t do this.”

It’s not a plea, it’s a warning. Sandra Kingston’s never backed down from a fight. She’s not about to start with her 19-year-old headstrong bitch of a daughter.

“Mom,” Emma breathes, leaning forward and taking one of her mother’s frigid, veiny hands in hers, “I have to do this. It’s all that’s left.”

Georgie didn’t know she was about to cry until the tears fell. She sniffles gently, sweeping them away, trying not to make a scene as the culmination of her entire family’s angst hangs over them.

“Do what you’re going to do,” Emma whispers. Georgie blinks in surprise. Emma lets go of Sandra’s hand. Sandra looks bowled over.

“I can’t stop you, I can’t control you. If what you really want is to place a restraining order on me so I can’t see my sister, do it. Or try. I don’t necessarily trust the American justice system, but I think I still trust it more than you. So if that’s what you want, to separate us, to use her as a pawn to make me your dancing monkey, fine. Because guess what? Georgie turns 18 in 17 months and there’s your only power over me, gone.

“Margaret is gone, mom. She signed a girl band in Sweden. She’s happy. Angelique is leading my team now. She is my teammate. She collaborates with me and listens to me and we have a way forward that I’m really, really excited about. I’m more excited about this than any move I’ve ever made in my career. I want you to be excited, too. I know you had a plan. I know you wanted to take charge when I was younger, wanted me to succeed. I can’t do it if you threaten my happiness and my family.

“I want you to be a part of this someday. Not today, probably not any time soon, but someday. I know as well as anyone how savvy you are. I don’t discount that. But you don’t know how to be a teammate, mom. And you don’t know how to be a mom, either. So for now, you’re off my team until you figure those things out.”

Emma glances at Georgie for the first time in minutes. She wraps her hands around Georgie’s and smiles softly.

“Georgie’s going to go home to dad’s. She’s going to go to Belfort Homecoming with Josh Dittrich. She’s going to make lacrosse captain and start visiting colleges. You’re going to stay home, at your home in Beverly Hills, and go to her games and take her shopping for her dress and get her for dinner every Wednesday night and on every other weekend.”

“I’m going to get on a plane.”

Georgie’s eyes lift from their hands to Emma’s face. She looks… serene. Georgie’s never once seen her look serene. She blinks quickly, feeling her fingers unfold from her sister’s. Emma plants a hand on her head.

“C’mon, kid. We have somewhere to be.”

+

Emma watches the lights of the New York City skyline glimmer off Georgie’s shining eyes in the back of the speeding cab. Emma promised him a $100 tip if he could get them to the Barclays Center before 10:30pm. He’s taking his challenge very, very seriously.

Emma and Georgie slide into each other during another scary hairpin turn. They both giggle, a little giddy from adrenaline.

Emma tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear and looks down. She’s in an oversized plaid shirt, Daisy Dukes and checkered Vans. Her hair is muddy with grease and dry shampoo. She’s breaking out a little on her chin. She feels fucking great.

Finally, the cabbie dumps them off outside the artist’s entrance. Emma makes good on her promise and throws in an autograph for his niece with a grin and a wink.

Emma and Georgie hustle up to venue security. Suddenly, Emma vanishes into Emma Kingston. Her face goes cold, eyes go dark and vacant. She strides up like she belongs there.

“Excuse me,” she says in that soft velvety tone of disdain.

Venue security doesn’t look impressed. She lets the corners of her mouth fold down further.

“Name?”

“Emma Kingston.”

“You’re not on the artist roster,” the guard says boredly. Emma cocks her head.

“I’m the tour opener. I was here two hours ago,” she groans, sounding convincingly exhausted. She spots a tour poster and points at her name and face splashed helpfully beneath Shawn’s. She quirks an annoyed eyebrow.

This seems to work, because they’re letting her in. She still has to find a couple crew members to swipe passes from to keep this alive a little longer. She hopes she hasn’t stirred up too much ill will with her formerly bad attitude. She needs this to work. She has to see him.

Georgie’s along for the ride, gawping at the backstage like she’s never seen one before. She waves at passing crew members and roadies. She’s charming enough that they wave back even when they’re rushing or their hands are full.

Emma lunges for Shawn’s favorite tech Joey when she sees him. “Joey! I need a pass.”

He beams. “Emma! Hey! Wow! Yeah, c’mon.”

Georgie’s teeth start to chatter with nerves as they wind their way through the labyrinthian tunnels. As they grow closer to the stage, Shawn’s voice becomes clearer. He’s nearing the end of his set. Emma’s growing fidgety, wants to watch his last few songs and be there when he walks off stage.

Joey very helpfully gets them passes and leads them up through the backstage, doesn’t ask questions when he helps them dodge Andrew, who Emma knows to avoid due to Shawn’s explanation of the “strategy.”

Emma’s nerve endings are buzzing all over her body when Joey leads them to sidestage and she catches sight of Shawn under a spot. He’s pounding hard at his guitar, dripping sweat, thrashing around like a fucking rockstar. Her stomach releases a team of butterflies that don’t stay put – they feel like they’re exploding out of her ears and cheeks. Emma reaches for Georgie’s hand, gripping hard.

She looks over. Georgie is grinning so hard her face might just break. She’s bopping up and down, singing along like she’s at her favorite artist’s concert. Emma smiles, remembering that she is. Georgie looks over and squeezes her hand.

The Kingston sisters scream and dance along to “Particular Taste” under Joey’s watchful eye as he stands guard from Andrew or other interferers.

When the song ends, Emma’s adrenaline-laced heart pumps straight into overdrive. Shawn breaks for water and turns toward them, glancing around casually as he brings the water bottle to his lips.

The bottle almost falls from his hand when he spots her. She’s smiling that perfect, quiet Emma smile, the one that first made him wonder who she was underneath. She’s standing there, a vision in plaid and denim, with bouncing, screaming Georgie nearly vibrating next to her.

Shawn bares a toothy grin and starts to laugh. His band members look up to stare at him like he has three heads. Emma and Georgie giggle along with him until the three of them are nearly doubled over, laughing at nothing.

Finally, Shawn straightens up. The music has long since faded out and the crowd is wondering what the hell is going on. Shawn chews on his lower lip, one hand around the neck of his guitar, one gripping the mic. Emma watches him curiously.

Shawn returns his gaze to the crowd. He can’t see them over the house lights, but he can hear them, can feel them. He smiles softly.

He plucks the first few notes, just to give her a taste, get her blood moving. He doesn’t look at her reaction, just down at his guitar as the crowd cheers for something they don’t recognize.

“Brooklyn,” he crows, a smirk in his voice, “Have I got a surprise for you.”

He backs away from the mic so he can see into sidestage. Emma is laughing again and Georgie is looking between Shawn and Emma so quickly she’s going to give herself whiplash.

Joey, being Joey, takes his cue and hands Emma a tuned up acoustic. It’s not her little yellow guitar, but it’ll do. She smiles gratefully and looks back at the stage as Shawn races around to inform the band that a change is being made.

When all is settled, he nods to Joey and strides back to the mic. As Joey approaches, he lifts off his guitar and hands it to him.

“Thanks, Joey.”

Shawn stands in front of the mic, hands folded behind his back. “This is my last night on this tour,” Shawn begins, sounding a little nostalgic and a lot proud. Emma looks up from fiddling with a guitar pick to watch him.

“This was the best tour ever. I want to thank my incredible band and crew for all their hard work. You guys are everything. I couldn’t do this without you, obviously, but I also wouldn’t want to. Thank you.”

He steps back from the mic and applauds, looking to each member of his band gratefully. The crowd’s roaring dies down as Shawn takes the mic again.

“I also want to thank my tourmate,” he chuckles and Emma knows it’s because “tourmate” doesn’t even begin to cover what they are to each other now, “Emma Kingston.”

The crowd shows waves of recognition, they think they know what’s coming.

They don’t.

Emma turns to Georgie with bated breath. “Want to see something cool?”

Georgie nods. Emma grins. “Stay here. You’re gonna love this.”

Georgie squeals and stands back. When Emma looks back to the stage, Shawn is turned toward her, smiling in anticipation.

Emma grips the guitar for dear life.

She’s never been on a stage as Emma before. She’s been on who knows how many hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Pageant stages, sound stages, arena stages. She has stood at the back or the side putting on her mask, lacing up her persona. She became Emma Kingston for them because that’s what they wanted from her.

She’s never been this Emma before – this Emma in a shirt from Goodwill and ratty sneakers without a stitch of make-up. This is Georgie’s Emma, Shawn’s Emma.

Emma’s Emma.

And now it’s all that’s left.

Emma takes a deep breath and it feels like new life. It feels like a promise. It feels like she’s finally present.

She takes a step, then another. Shawn starts to clap and whistle as she takes the stage, scorched by the bright lights. She’s grateful, then, that all she can see is him.

She walks up to him, watches his smug smile grow. She shakes her head, laughing again, turning to the elated crowd to wave. They shake the damn stadium with their applause. Something new is happening. They can feel it.

Shawn’s gentle touch on her arm brings her back. He leans into her ear.

“You good?”

Emma leans back and looks up at his sparkling chocolate eyes. She nods meaningfully. “I’m ready.”

Shawn grins wildly, curls bobbing as he jogs back to take a seat at the piano.

Emma takes her time adjusting the mic stand, feeling the intensely weighted quiet of the crowd as they wait for her. They think they know who she is, but they haven’t seen this before. They’re curious. Who is she?

Emma looks down at the guitar as she plucks out the first chords slowly. She repeats them a few times, not as much getting her bearings as she is falling into this.

This, what she’s worked every day of her life for since she was five.

This, what she’s dreamed about through years of misdirection, of pampering, of bad attitude, of tight jeans, of broken promises.

This, what she’s built with her own two hands.

Emma lifts her head, tips it back and forth as her eyes slide shut. She starts playing to tempo, hears Shawn’s first notes on the piano come in shortly after.

“Little miss down on love… little miss I give up… little miss I’ll get tough, don’t you worry ‘bout me anymore…”

Her voice is hers. It’s not sweetened, it’s not tuned, it’s Emma Jean. It’s generations of southern heritage, it’s years of Tammy and Patsy under the covers in bed, it’s a little twangy and it’s fucking perfect.

“Little miss checkered dress… little miss one big mess… little miss I’ll take less when I always give so much more…”

Her eyes are shut, pinched tight as she feels every word like they’re getting tattooed on her skin as she sings them.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, sometimes you gotta lose till you win…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’ll be alright again.”

Her eyes open. The chorus crashes in. She rocks along with it, crooning into the mic, strumming hard.

“It’ll be alright again, I’m ok, it’ll be alright again…”

As the chorus fades back into the first chords, Emma feels the crowd with her. She has them – an artist knows when she has an audience, it’s like feeling the wind at her back. But this is Barclays Arena so it’s not wind. It’s a goddamn hurricane. And it feels so good.

“Little miss do your best… little miss never rest… little miss be my guest, I’ll make more any time that it runs out.”

Shawn’s impressive at the piano. She grins around her words as he strikes hard at the keys, feeling this as much as she is.

“Little miss you’ll go far… little miss hide your scars… little miss who you are is so much more than you like to talk about…”

With the build-up of the next chorus, Emma stomps her foot along with the piano and drums. The pause before the chorus breaks and Emma slashes at the guitar, going full rockstar like she’s always wanted to but never could. It gets even more of the crowd behind her. She’s a born performer. It’s hard to ignore.

The bridge is simple, but it’s big. It builds like the chorus, but it’s more climactic. Emma feels it rising in her. It shows her true chops as a singer. She holds her note, grinning around it again as the crowd reacts in waves of cheers and applause.

“Hold on… hold on, you are loved, are loved…”

Emma’s voice fades out after an impressive vocal run that has at least half the stadium on their feet. If she looked behind her, she’d see the band exchanging shocked looks of delight -- all but Shawn, who knew for certain she had it in her. He’s smiling that perfect proud smile, eyes glued to her like the first time he saw her perform. He remembers her blue spangly dress, her bare feet, her mismatched voice. There’s nothing mismatched here, now. This is right. This is her.

Emma steps back from the mic for a moment, regaining her breath after her impressive display of vocal prowess. She gasps breath, lifts her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in amazement as the crowd grows even louder in reaction. 

She stares out at them. She wonders about every face, every story behind every life, every song in the hearts of these people who didn’t expect this today but got it anyway. All these people who are making this memory with her. All these people who took a perfect dream and made it real.

She smiles wide. It’s projected stories high onto the screen behind her. The crowd continues to cheer.

She steps back to the mic and the song returns to its quiet beginning. Emma is solo, strumming the guitar, bobbing her head and scuffing her sneakers on the stage floor. She turns to face Shawn, lifts her head and flips hair out of her eyes. He’s sitting proudly at the piano, staring at her. He ducks his head shyly when she catches him. He knows what’s coming.

“Little miss brand new start… little miss do your part… little miss big ol’ heart beats wide open, she’s ready now for love…”

Fuck a strategy. Fuck Kyle Dillon. Fuck Island. Fuck Sandra.

Emma’s looking at Shawn and Shawn’s looking at Emma and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And they don’t fucking care.

The chorus builds again, bigger than before. It takes Emma a minute to realize why.

It’s because they’re singing along.

The crowd is chanting with her, “it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

They’re singing her words back to her and it’s so much better than she imagined it would be. Tears catch at the corner of her eyes. When she glimpses Georgie jumping up and down sidestage, crying like a 13-year-old at a Bieber, concert, her tears come loose. Her throat grates, but she sings through it.

Emma sings “I’m ok,” Shawn echoes “it’ll be alright again” and for the first time in her life, Emma believes it.

She doesn’t want to let go when the song draws to a close, the last chord reverberating but barely audible under the mass of screams, of delighted cheers, of chants of her name.

Emma steps backward away from the mic, trying to catch her breath. She drops her pic and claps her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. The cheers grow louder as she gets emotional.

She recovers enough to swing her guitar behind her back and lift her arms to wave. She’s choking back sobs, biting her lips, wishing in the back of her head that Sandra could see this.

Emma looks to Georgie, who’s crying harder than she is. When Georgie realizes she’s spotted, she waves hysterically, cheering and jumping up and down again. Emma laughs, lifting her hand to wave back.

A big, warm hand catches her wrist. She looks up instinctively. He’s there beside her looking at her like she handed him the world.

Slowly, like she’s watching from above, he drops her wrist and steps into her, cupping her neck in his big, rough hands. The crowds roars are deafening as they see what’s about to happen. Emma holds onto his ribcage as Shawn leans in and gives her a searing kiss.

He holds nothing back. He slots their lips together, pulls her up on her toes to deepen it, dropping his hands from her neck to wrap around her waist and lift her slightly. She swings her arms around his neck and holds on desperately, gasping into his mouth, whimpering gently.

With the ground-shaking din of the crowd’s reaction ringing in his ears, Emma’s mind is perfectly blank, clearer than it’s been since she was small. She has one thought in her head. A memory.

She sighs, resigned. She sweeps a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet. It lasts only a moment. His lips are soft and taste like morning and lemon. She shudders.

He has lost any sense of the world around them. He shrugs an arm around her, uses the other to move some hair out of her tear-streaked face. He leans back in and she shuts her eyes, waiting for another kiss. Instead, he trails his lips over her hair, her cheekbones, her nose, her fluttering eyelashes.

“Emma,” he breathes into her ear. Her body tightens against his in response.

The name doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

Emma smiles into his lips, overwhelmingly grateful.

Her hero’s journey for independence was a long affair, one Shawn arrived for the tail end of. He can’t be attributed much credit for Emma’s departure from her team, from Margaret and Sandra. He was a background figure in all of those scenes.

But Shawn did something just important, just as crucial to getting Emma to this point. He taught her how to be loved.

When Shawn releases her, they smile big and toothy in unison and start to laugh again like they did before, too filled with love and hope and plain, stupid youth that it comes out like explosive carbonation.

Shawn tucks hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. The girlish shrieks are deafening. They make Emma chuckle again.

“Wait for me?” Shawn whispers in her ear.

Emma nods. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia@carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy @toumendes @nosafetynetunderneath @kitykatnumber @parkerspicedlatte

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: In Midnights, In Cups of Coffee

—

Day 495

“Who are you, the Cooler King?” The question cut through the room with a soft chuckle immediately after it at the sound of the double thumps as the baseball bounced against the iron floor, then the iron wall before getting caught in her mitt. Bobby rolled his eyes as he carried the tray with their lunch over to the desk while Jo continued to throw the ball in an even thudding pace.

“Well, my dad always reminded me of McQueen so maybe just a little?”

“Just don’t try to tunnel your way out of here any time soon, girlie, I don’t want to have to redo my slabs due to tiny holes.”

Jo caught the ball as it returned to her and turned to pin the older hunter with a speculative look before she pushed herself up to her feet and dragged the small spare chair over towards the desk to sit down. Bobby had the armchair and she never made the move to suggest otherwise, no matter how angry she’d been with him at times. Pulling her own sandwich plate onto her lap, Jo raised an eyebrow again at him as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“‘Ave oo ‘een ‘alken wuh Gruh?”

“What was that Joey? Can’t speak Mouthful unfortunately.” Bobby responded with a smile, cracking open a soft drink for the both of them and pushing hers towards her. Sipping to help swallow her mouthful of turkey, cranberry and rye, Jo smiled a little in return having noticed that since she’d stopped fighting so hard, Bobby had begun taking care to provide things he knew she liked more than his usual choices.

“I said, have you been talkin’ to Grey?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“The tiny holes comment.”

The older hunter gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulder as he began on his lunch as well. From there, lunch was generally a quiet affair and as they both finished and wiped their hands on the tea towel he’d thought to bring with him, Jo found herself being pinned under a curious yet concerned look from the older hunter.

“How are you holding up, Jo? I know this has got to have been hard-”

“More than half a year in a confined space? What would give you that idea?”

“Not needing your sarcasm, girlie, just checking in with you. Your calls seem to have been getting better.”

Jo smiled a little at that, nodding her head gently. They had been getting better. Things had been feeling better lately, more normal for her. More safe and calm and like she could breath in the small space. More like she was where she was going to be for the foreseeable future. More like being back in the cave and having her routine planned out days and days in advance. More normal again.

“Yeah, it’s going okay. I’m just glad I managed to get one of these this time-” She held up her mitt, shifting to return to her spot against the edge of her bed and tossing the baseball at the exact same spot she had before.

“This time?”

“Oh you know, I lost my last one. Some werewolf broke in and took it - I guess it wasn’t so fun for it down here without something to do.”

“What... what werewolf?” There was a strain to his voice that Jo wasn’t familiar with, and flicking a glance over at him as she threw the ball - hands moving to throw and then catch blindly on reflex as the ball’s arch followed the same trajectory as the last - to see he was rubbing a hand over his beard and staring at her with that same concerned look to his face. She didn’t quite get the need, it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to handle herself down here. She just had to remember to mark the day out on the wall at some point. Just to keep track.

“Oh don’t worry Bobby, it’s long dead. They don’t take shit from me without gettin’ dead a second time, you know.”

“Right. Jo, girl, where do you think it went?”

“Why it just died, Bobby. It’s what we all do in Purgatory after all.”

—

Day 1-3

All of Dean’s words had not prepared her for what it felt like to feel someone else slide into your very self. And unlike him and her original plan, Jo had twice the sensation. She found herself glad that she couldn’t hear either of them and that standing in front of the portal that opened upon her approach, that she had not been misled at all.

The travel through the portal was rough, and it felt at a few points like her arms were drawn back towards Purgatory while the magic tried to expel the rest of her - almost trying to tear and shear her apart with the drawing forces of both Purgatory and Earth battling over where she belonged. Jo was not sure if sound travelled in the space, but she knew her mouth was open and her lungs were screaming raw into the passage between before there was a twinge and she found herself plummeting face first into the hot, sticky asphalt below her.

From there, even if it was with two extremely painful, throbbing masses in her arms, it was an easy enough process to travel back to where the second of the shadow’s had met his grizzly end. Slicing through her right arm and bleeding onto the replaced carpet where his stolen body had oozed out and the shadow’s own mass had tried desperately to claw it’s way out before shrivelling upon the floor in the few places he’d managed to pull a tendril free; Jo had almost groaned in relief as the pressure slipped out of her arm. It felt like her arm was lighter than it had even been.

“You… you here?” Jo asked aloud quietly, eyes dancing about the room trying to locate the shape of the monster to confirm whether or not the spell had managed to work even without a bod to replace like she had been told was the process with Dean and his vampiric friend.

There was a long, drawn out silence in the hotel room before she heard the response, a soft whisper of an answer, “Yes sweetie. You really will strive with things impossible won’t you?”

“What can I say?” Jo shrugged as she continued to look around the space trying to locate him but frowning when she realised that he would be staying out of sight for whatever reason now. “I truly love achieving the impossible.”

“You better go release the runt, sweetie, it’s very cramped in your tiny, tiny arms.” If Jo didn’t know better, she would think he was being nice and not just flirting; but rolling her eyes she nodded to herself at his words. She did so desperately want to get Grey back.

“I’ll catch you around, aye?”

“Only if your luck holds out, sweetie.”

After that, it wasn’t hard to drive herself to the forest that had once housed the two cannibalistic Wendigos and had been where she’d dug a full sized grave behind constant tears. It was hard however to locate the exact spot that the other had fallen - the burial site of the nasty man he had been riding about in unnecessary but the exact place he had succumbed.

Finally, Jo had found in the dirt the discarded lighter she had used to face down the second wendigo, and it was a few moves of reflection to have her standing at the right spot before slicing her left arm through. Nothing appeared to happen and the pressure was still there under her skin. Frowning, she moved a foot over and repeated the step again, and then again, and again.

By the time she finally sliced a mark through her forearm and felt that painful pressure suddenly disappear, her arm looked truly horrific and blood was dripping off and down over her whole hand - tacky and sticky with the dried blood, clinging to each bend of skin and coating her silver ring with the dark red colour. However, the very light scratches needed would heal quickly and should not impact on the clarity of her white ink tattoo once they healed up.

“What the fuck have you done to yourself?!” The pitch was so loud in the quiet forest, drowning out the soft bird song that had surrounded her with the panic and concern etching through his voice as Grey formed to her side. “Jo, how could you mess up so badly? Your arm looks dreadful! You need to take care of that immediately, do you have a med kit or do you need me to get it for you or-”

“Grey, hun, focus. Tis but a scratch, I’ll be fine!”

“Don’t you go quoting Monty Python at me like that will get you excused.”

“It usually would!” Jo laughed in response to his energetic worry, eyes soft and the sound of her laughter spreading out like a warming blanket through the forest. It was the first true, real and honest laugh since she’d last been standing there, and she felt her hands twitch with the desire for him to be in a solid form again right there and now.

But that would come soon enough, for now, she had a trek back down to the car, and he had an equally long trek to find a form he was comfortable with again. Turning on her heels, Jo smiled, a light pink in her cheeks, as she headed back down the mountain and could see the same grey shadow shape take his place at her side.

—

Day 365

“...be still my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me..” The last word was practically whispered through the line and Jo turned her back to the lounge room turned study where she could see the curious, concerned or just outrightly frustrated looks on the faces of the three other hunters glancing towards her.

She’d demanded the chance to call that day, being a year since she’d flashed through that scary and disturbing passage that brought her back to the world from the faded, washed out world of never-sunlight. Bobby had looked hard and long at her before agreeing to allow it - but only from the bank of phones in the kitchen where he and the two Winchesters who were over for some case help could keep an eye on her.

And an ear originally, as Dean had lent up against the door frame beside her with a cocked brow while she dialed the number half expecting it to be disconnected at this point or the other end not to pick up to the unknown number.

She had heard the voice croaky and tired sounding, exhausted in a way Jo had not remembered ever hearing him since the day so very very long ago as she’d disarmed the bomb under his seat. The sound and memory had her sliding down the wall and tucked in upon herself, old phone cradled tightly against her cheek as she’d spoken the first words to him in over one hundred days.

From there, Jo had heard it immediately. The brightening, the lifting of spirits and the desperation streaming through his every word just as sharply as she could hear it in her own. Dean had snorted harshly at the first words from her being “I love you”, and the hunter had moved off to join the other curiously ‘not watching’ pair within minutes.

The conversation had flowed, and flowed, and mostly been Jo trying not to cry and Grey trying not to ask her to see him. Half finished words, unsaid sentences hanging in silence, and quiet hiccups gulping down air like a drowning man. When she’d heard the sound of a bark in the background, she’d lost it - the sheer distance between her and her little family cutting deep - and when she’d been able to focus again on what was being said, she almost cried again hearing the words being gently sung through the phone to her. He’d always said he would hear it and think of her when they weren’t together.

“Sorry, sorry hun. I..”

“Jo, I know. You don’t need to apologise to me ever.”

“I do though, for so so much.”

There was a groan on the other end of the line, and she found herself biting down on her lip rather than add any more. They went round and round in circles in that loop, and Jo just wished that she could end the circle how she usually would with her lips on his muffling down any more objections or corrections from him. Pressing her own fingers to her lips instead, Jo added quietly, “Other than how much this sucks, how are you doing? How’s Nana?”

“Things are things. I know that... that Nana misses you so very dearly, Jo. Misses you more than anything.”

“Does she now?” She felt the corners of her lips twitching upwards at the tone running through the other’s words, aware that this could sound innocent enough to anyone else if they heard but the underlying meaning clear. “Well, I miss her too. I miss just spending time with her.”

“I’m sure she misses you more, Jo. She...” There was a pause as Grey seemed to think over the words to say, and Jo felt a lump forming in her throat in fear of what he was going to say next. That she may have to deny something yet again, and on the first time they’d been able to speak to one another since she was dragged and vanished from the house. “She misses you so much, Jo. I’m sure she wants to see you, just for a minute, just for one little minute-”

“You know-”

“I don’t care, Jo. I still don’t care. This is fucking torture being away from you-”

“I know-”

“No! No you don’t know!!” The shout down the line surprised her, and jumping slightly in her seat, she could see the three different heads in the other room jerk about to look at her as she moved the phone to her other ear and twisted away from them. This was what she didn’t want to have happen, but clutching the handset in her hands, Jo swallowed thickly as Grey continued, “This is utter torture, Jo, and you don’t have to keep doing this. Please just... just come home, come home to me. Why can’t you just come home? I don’t...I don’t care what you do, just please come back to me.”

“I..” She struggled over the words for a moment, before she finally reacted. Pushing herself to her feet and squeezing her eyes shut, Jo quickly continued, “I love you, hun. I’ll be home as soon as I can” before she slammed the handset into place and stalked downstairs. She couldn’t handle the looks she’s sure she had left in the other room, she couldn’t handle the begging tone, she couldn’t handle this much longer but she’d have to. If she lasted 82 years, she can last however long she has to to have him back again.

—

Day 90

“Shada, hey! Long time no see.” Jo greeted the other girl brightly as she opened the door at the knock, smile firmly in place as she waved her in. “Grey’s in the lounge and I’ve heard that Gray’s planning to stop by and catch you.”

“Really? Both brothers here at once without bloodshed?” Shada asked incredulously, smiling widely in back as she moved into the house while Jo shut the door. “That’s a miracle! How did you manage it?”

“I think it’s got somethin’ with death re-establishing a previously unknown maturity level or maybe just my beggin’ them not to kill one another.”

“Well then, you’ve got some kind of super power, cupcake, cause I’ve never managed that at all.”

Jo laughed a little at that, following the other into the lounge a few steps behind as she watched brother and sister both embrace quickly in a tight hug. Shada began speaking in some language that Jo couldn’t quite follow, and Grey appeared to match in kind without a second thought. Smiling at the clear affection and happiness in the other woman’s looks at seeing her brother back alive and well, the blonde turned about and moved about collecting a tray of drinks for the three of them before adding a spare beer for the one shadow that had yet to show up.

Shada appeared to stare at her brother more and more as the afternoon dragged on while they all talked. It was like she was trying to dig under his surface or something, but Jo shrugged it off as she tucked in on Grey’s lap on the small armchair together.

It wasn’t until the other shadow appeared, suddenly appearing by the front window and giving his sister a sharp nod of greeting compared to the ruffle of Jo’s hair as she’d approached with the cold beer for him that all hell broke loose.

Shada’s voice had reached an earsplitting level as she jerked straight from her chair, one hand pointed towards Jo and the dark lines of her shadow snagging upon Jo’s own before flinging her up against the closest wall. “What the fuck did you do, you foolish human??!”

The next second, both other shadows were on their feet and snarling - one’s shadow stretching out to drag and push back at his sister’s harshly using their own tricks and powers to affect the younger shadow. The other had thrown himself physically at her, silver flash of his razor out and pressed against the girl’s neck in threat and intention as he snarled down in her face; the size of his new frame providing intimidation on top of the weapon and the other shadow’s own shifts.

“You bloody idiots, let go of me and open your fucking eyes!” Shada shrieked the words out, twisting and pushing back against Gray’s tight and sharp grip as she dropped the control over Jo’s shadow, eyes fixed on the dark brown ones staring down at her. “Brother, can’t you see what she’s done to you?!”

“What the fuck are you on about, sister?” The words were hissed between the two of them, and Jo found herself trying to listen in over the concerned and worried check up she was getting as she’d dropped from the force against the wall and into Grey’s waiting arms.

“You’re both Stained!”

A pin drop could have been heard in the room as if it were a gunshot by how silent it fell at that announcement. Gray dropped his harsh grip upon his little sister, stepping back several steps and jerking his head about to look between the pleading look on Shada’s face and the distraught and slowly comprehending look on Jo’s own face as the woman’s words sank in. She felt Grey’s own grip tighten around her arms, and almost pull her into him as he stared across at his brother hatefully - as if somehow he was responsible for this happening to the both of them and it wasn’t Jo’s idea and choice that drew this upon them.

“What…”

“How the fuck do you figure that, sister?”

With a flip of her hair, Shada stepped off of the wall and pinned Jo with the most fearful look she had ever seen from the girl shadow. “How about we ask your precious cupcake how it happened, hmm? How exactly you escaped Purgatory the lot of you?”

“I… there’s a spell and I carried them in my arms out.” Jo stumbled over the words as all three faces turned to look at her, and she found herself blinking in confusion as to how she could have done anything like tearing into their Vice doing such an action. The only time she had heard of such a thing happening had been when Grey was practically torn apart supposedly, and she certainly had not hurt either of them at the time. “I’m not sure how it works, Dean told me about it.”

“You… You carried them in your fucking arms? You realise that was in your soul!” Shada hissed the words out as she stalked forwards towards Jo, only to be stopped by Gray’s hands reaching out to stop her with a sharp pull. Slashing at his grip with her forearm, the girl shadow snarled. “You have completely covered them with your being, you foolish, stupid human! You’ve marked them both, more thoroughly than that horrible demon ever did! This is so wrong!!”

“Don’t talk about Jo like that, Shada.” The way he snarled at his sister, so unusual for Grey to do so, made Jo shudder as she looked between the determined yet hard look on both brother’s faces, she realised how accurate the lone woman shadow’s words were.

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

—

Day 33

“Hey, have you ever seen this before?” Jo asked, a wide smile on her face that she knew had been there all morning and was showing no signs of dropping away. If she’d been more poetic, Jo’d have possibly said that she was glowing when she’d caught her reflection a few times throughout the day thus far.

There was a rise of an eyebrow in response at her as he stepped over the threshold and followed after her along to the lounge room, looking more at ease in the space than she had ever expected he would. “Seen what?” Gray asked as he tilted her head at the DVD in her hand curiously.

“American Psycho? It’s a movie.”

“Nah, don’t spend much time watching trashy girly crap.”

“That’s American Sweethearts, you idiot.”

“Comme ci comme ça?”

Jo laughed at that, shaking her head as she waved the case at him. “Definitely not! I’m almost positive you’d like this.” She turned her back to him, moving to stick the DVD into the player with a flourish and a wave of her hand at him to make himself comfortable. “I mean, your brother hates this movie, so I hardly ever get to see it.”

“A runt-unfriendly movie?” Gray asked sharply, and when Jo shot a glare over her shoulder at him, he held up his hands in surrender with a shake of his head. “Fine, fine. I’ll take your word for it and make no other comments.”

“Good, cause I look forward to tellin’ you I told you so.” She smiled a little as she got the system set up and made her way across to the couch beside where the shadow had already made himself comfortable. They’d only hung out like this a few times in the last week or so, usually on opposite ends of the couch and typically some kind of action flick when Grey was out feeding, with a bowl of popcorn next to Jo’s hip giving plenty of a boundary between them. Gray had already taken his jacket off and draped it over the back of the spare seat, and had one foot resting on top of the coffee table, stretched out languidly and relaxed in a way he never seemed to be when he’d first show up to visit. “If you think this movie sucks, then I’m going to question your taste forever.”

“Don’t you already?” He quipped back, smirking slightly as Jo bustled about and disappeared to grab a drink for each of them. When she returned the DVD’s main screen was on and flashing ready to play. Pressing the start button, Jo found herself stepping over his stretched out leg cautiously before sinking down on the couch beside him in the centre rather than the far end as the opening credits started without thinking about it. There was a slight cough from beside her as she passed him his own beer, before Gray asked inquiringly, “So, where is he today?”

“Out feeding.”

“Didn’t he do that like… two days ago?”

“Yeah-”

“That’s a pretty quick turn around, isn’t it? Thought he usually took more than two days to need more from that crappy diet of his.”

Jo felt her cheeks flushing red as the other kept asking questions before shaking her head and hiding a wicked smile behind her  hair. “Well, usually, yes.”

“So? What’s happened that used up all that second-rate monster juice?” Gray quipped back, one arm spreading along the back of the couch behind her shoulders without a care as he used the other arm on the arm rest to take the odd sip of his beer. He quirked a brow at her, tugging on a piece of her hair behind her neck when she didn’t reply. “Come on, sweetie, what’s sent him off so quick?”

“Well, it was my birthday yesterday, so uh things were a little more exhaustive than usual.” She knew she was blushing uncontrollably as she looked out the corner of her eye at him, a small smirk growing when she could see a disgusted look followed by something she couldn’t quite place flash across his face before she got a laugh for her comments.

“That’d do it then. Alright, movie time now, right sweetie?”

Nodding, Jo grinned to herself and settled in comfortably to watch one of her favourite movies without the usual groans of discomfort and distaste she had gotten the one time she’d asked the other shadow to watch with her. As the men compared their business cars, she found herself sinking to the side, pressed up against her enemy-turned-friend’s side and her head resting in the crook of his shoulder and chest without a thought.

By the time the ATM was begging for a cat, they’d both finished their beers and Jo had already heard the approving rumble in the other’s chest at several points throughout the film. As the woman screamed about witnessing the psychopathic Bateman pressing a cat towards the card slot, there was a disgusted noise from the doorway.

“Fuck sake, really? This movie again, Jo?”

“I like watchin’ it when you’re not around to complain.” The blonde quipped back, shifting upright from her previous position causing the arm wrapped around her shoulder and down her arm to drop down behind her as she turned to smile up at the new arrival. “It’ll be over in like… twenty minutes?”

“Fine, I can handle twenty minutes of this-”

“Can you two shut up, I’m trying to watch this.” Gray hissed quietly, eyes focused upon the screen as the woman started running through the halls screaming. Jo rolled her own eyes, but frowned slightly to herself noticing the way he pulled his arm from behind her back over to his lap and his other hand gripped the armrest tightly. “If you’re watching, sit down and watch quietly.”

Jo raised an eyebrow but shifted as the other shadow moved about to sit as far away as possible from the other on the other end of the couch without another word, but a slight glare to his face as he looked across at her.

Shrugging to herself, the blonde shifted her own weight to lean to the other side and resting her head in Grey’s lap without another thought. Shifting her hips a little, Jo tucked her feet in underneath the other’s lap on the other end of the couch and settled in with a smile to enjoy the end of the movie - glad not to have to defuse any fighting for once.

—

Day 172

She kicked the car door shut with the back of her heel, bag held tightly between her hands as she made her way over to the motel’s reception. Getting a room was easy, the flickering VACANCY sign out the front seeming like it was the type of place it never flashed NO before it. Jo shrugged the bag strap over her shoulder as she fumbled her key into the door and made her way inside, tossing her pack on the solo bed and shutting the door behind her quietly.

From there, it took no time at all to be back in the swing of setting up her room and getting prepared for the leg work of a hunt. Her printed pages were spread out on the wall methodically if a little erratically to anyone else’s eye but hers. Files were spread across the bed cover alongside the odd books she’d brought with her, and her knives and two main guns were set out on the rickety table top alongside her laptop. Her phone was plugged in and charging after the thirteen hour trip from Duluth to get into this little town in the middle of nowhere. She was sure she’d be getting a call from Harry shortly about Nana if no one else.

Flopping down on the bed with a bounce as she grabbed one of the books and flicking through the pages held above her head, Jo jerked up with a strangled scream at the voice that cut through the quiet room. “What are you doing out from behind your iron castle, sweetie?”

“Fuck! You tryin’ to give me a heart attack!?!” Jo shrieked, dropping her book beside her as she shifted to sit upright, staring across at the doorway where the voice had come from. It did not surprise her one bit he was the first one to find her - he’d always been better at locating her than most, and it had barely been any time for him from the times he was popping up and stopping her from splattering some crappy motel room like this one’s walls with blood and brain matter.

Gray pushed away from the door but drew short of getting within five feet of her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was something different to the last times she’d seen him, but given it had been over two months, that was to be expected. He was getting back to normal. Jo mentally kicked herself for the slight pang the idea that they would be going back to normal shot through her.

“You shouldn’t be out at the moment, sweetie. There’s monsters out here looking for you, did you know?”

“Here I thought I was the one out hunting monsters.”

“You’re not wrong there, but you’d better watch your back.” His voice was quieter than usual, smooth as silk and making her remember that dangerous pulse from the last time they’d spoke. The heavy look he’d shot her before she’d ignored him in favor of his brother as she’d closed the door on the relaxed relationship they had been developing. Gray seemed to consider stepping closer before taking a short step back instead, a grimace on his face as he looked towards her. “Not all of us want this situation to get fixed. You’re lucky, sweetie, that I appreciate the situation and want to rectify the issue.”

“Of course you do. Me too, by the way.”

“Unfortunately for you, you’re the only one when it comes to the runt though.” Gray’s eyes ran around the room and Jo wasn’t surprised to see him turn away from her and head towards her make-shift pin board, flicking at the papers. She’d noticed his habit of reviewing her work in past - as if the whole concept fascinated and appalled him - and didn’t fight the smile that seeing him brushing over her carefully developed work got. When he turned back to her, Jo was surprised however to see the flash of that previously inconceivable look upon his face, her own smile dropping slightly until his had passed. There was a beat before he added almost too gently, as if teasing at trouble with it, “You better watch your back before he shows up wanting you on yours. I at least want to get better, he just wants you.”

“I..”

“I’ll catch you around, sweetie.”

Jo felt herself smiling at that, and didn’t miss that look coming to his face again as she replied in kind - “Only if your luck holds out.” - before he smoked away.

She considered laying iron across the door and the window of the motel room at that point, but given how often she was in and out over the next two days, it had slipped her mind and the hunt itself had taken centre stage for her thoughts and concerns. It was a skinwalker, that much was obvious, but she was having a bitch of a time working out exactly where it was hiding and what form it was taking at this point.

Tomorrow would be the day she caught it, she told herself as she locked the door and changed into her pyjamas - one of the old hoodies that had been tucked away in the drawers at home from before that still smelt so clearly of home - before shutting out the lights and sliding into bed. Tomorrow would be the day.

When she woke it was to heavy breath on the back of her neck and an arm around her waist that made her freeze. The door had been locked, nobody should have been in here with her.

“Shhh, it’s just me.” Those words were enough to settle her nerves immediately, the soft, deep tone washing over her like a calming balm. His arm tightened slightly around her as she shifted to press back against him sleepily. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, hun.” Jo murmured back tiredly, one hand covering his and entwining their fingers as she settled into his arms as if they’d never been apart. She felt herself drifting off quicker than she had in months, the feeling of love and home washing over her as she turned in his arms and the press of his lips to her forehead was the last thing she remembered that night.

—

Day 261

Rolling over in her bed, she stretched out languidly like she was a cat in a sunlight stream, toes curling and hands pressing harshly against the headboard. Beside her she heard a chuckle and turned to raise an eyebrow across at him. “Oh fuck you, that wasn’t supposed to happen and you know it.”

“Fuck you, huh? Don’t mind if I do again, pretty one.” Grey whispered the words into the skin of her neck, kissing along her neck paying special attention to the ancient scars on the one side, as he shifted to rest above her as she rolled up towards him in response. Her hands traced over his chest, scratching here and there before her nails dug into his shoulder blades like a fan as he thrust inside her for the third time since the night before. She shuddered and rocked her hips up to his as he murmured into her ear, “I’ve missed you, so so much.”

“We shouldn’t be-” Jo bit off the words with a moan, wrapping her arms around him again as the feelings of being together again washed over her. It had been impulsive the night before when she’d had a few too many drinks and had spotted the brand new sketchpad and pencil set she had bought earlier in the year for that very day. It had been leather bound and gorgeous, and she’d had it hidden in the bookshelf of her study for months. Before all of this came to light. The choice to rip up the iron on the front door had been foolish, but as soon as she’d messaged him, he’d been there on the door step and the night had been a blur of touches, kisses and moans from there. Much as the morning was shaping up to be as the reasons this wasn’t right and that they shouldn’t and why they weren’t supposed to disappeared in his hot lips and hands.

Wrapped up together afterwards, Jo could feel the warmth of the sun beating in through the gaps in the window on them as if burning them both for their misdeeds before it had risen fully. Condemning their actions and branding them for still being curled around one another now that the 14th had come.

“Hun.. we can’t keep doin’ this.” She whispered the words as if she said them quietly enough they could pretend a little longer that they weren’t true and could stay like this. He let out a quiet laugh, a harsh painful sound when she looked up to catch his eyes, that desperate look still deep within them - desperate for them to stay like this, for things to be how they were, to be together. “You’re still-”

“I’m still yours. I know.” His nose brushed up against hers gently, bringing a sigh from the both of them before he pressed his lips to hers so gently Jo felt like crying. Grey stared into her eyes gently as his fingers traced over the skin of her shoulders. “I’ve always been yours though, Jo, and I always will be. So why does it matter?”

“It matters, it matters so much. I can’t… we can’t be like this.”

“You mean that you can’t be like him, right?” Jo sucked in her breath at the words, eyes going wide before his lips covered hers and practically pulled the words from her mouth. “Rest assured, pretty one, you’d never ever be like he was. We could be like this for the rest of eternity and it’d make no lick of difference if I was marked as yours or just yours in words alone.”

“Grey…”

“Oh you two have got to be kidding me right now.” The third voice shocked the pair of them, not springing apart but both sticking their mussed heads up from below the covers to see the furious looking other shadow at the end of the bed with the yapping dog bounding about her feet and then jumping atop the bed itself. “What part of your fucking Stained did not resonate with you, brother?”

“Shada, fuck off would you.” Grey remarked in response, shifting to sit up more but tugging the covers to keep Jo covered and concealed from the other woman’s angry glances. He growled a little in response as the other shadow made to tug the quilts away herself, hands holding tight. “This has nothing to do with you any more. You are the one that’s forcing us apart, and I’m sick of it. I want Jo, I want to be with Jo, and I am going to be with Jo. So just fuck off if you can’t agree to what makes me happy.”

“Brother…” Shada’s voice was so deeply tired and sad as she stared down at her brother, and Jo could see the worry and concern etched across the other’s beautiful face as if she had aged an eon in the last few months since this had come to light. The other woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her hair before adding, “Fine, if that’s what you want, that is fine. But I’ll talk to the one of you who is a rational adult instead then. Jo-”

“Don’t talk to her.”

“Jo, you need to take responsibility for what you’ve done! Get dressed, we’re going.”

“Wait, what?” Jo jerked herself up, clutching the covers against her chest as she stared at the other woman’s remarks in confusion. She felt Grey’s hand reached for her back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb against the base of her spine. It was so warm and comfortable and made her feel so much better. Shaking that thought from her head, she shifted slightly to the side, looking between the two siblings in confusion. “What do you mean we’re goin’?”

Shada tutted at her, and Jo could hear the sound of her foot tapping from behind the end of the bed. The dark haired girl tossed her hair back in frustration and flapped a hand towards the pair still in the bed, where Grey had sank to lean back against the bedhead with a few pillows behind him and as Jo caught her eye she felt that tingle of something along her spine, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She found herself licking her lips slightly before a cough from the other woman dragged her attention away again. “See that right there, cupcake, is why we need to go. You? Are going to your Uncle’s house to stay in that big scary room of his - willingly or not. Brother can keep the house under control until he is better since he seems so comfortable where he is.”

“You aren’t taking her against her will, Shada.” The other shadow growled deeply, that deep voice rougher and darker than his other had ever gotten as he lent forward a little, a threat clear in his movements as Jo shifted off of the bed with the sheet tugged out from the end to hold against herself. “Jo is mine and always has been, and you will not take her.”

There was a long pause as the two shadows stared one another down from each position, the girl not moving at all and her face refusing to shift from the cocky snarl she’d had in place the whole time, while he had started shifting to get off of the bed, without any care to his current state of undress compared to keeping the other from Jo.

Next second, Shada was gone from the end of the bed, and Jo let out a squeak at the feeling of a hand on her elbow and just heard the parting words before the bedroom and Grey’s distraught yet furious face disappeared; “You want to bet, brother?”

Between blinks they went from the bedroom to the dank basement in her friend’s house, and Jo clutched the sheet about her, tugging for it to cover her back as well as front as she saw the older hunter lurching to his feet from a seat before the large iron door.

“What the hell-”

“I had no time for her to get dressed. I’ll get some clothes for her once she’s in.” Shada responded to the gruff sounding question as she poked and prodded Jo forward while the hunter shrugged in understanding and span the locking mechanism open. Jo struggled to stop being pushed in before the shadow disappeared from before her and popped up behind her with an unexpected shove - sending her propelling and tripping forward and into the panic room.

Behind her was the sound of the door slamming shut as she got her balance under her feet, spinning around to see the two bars move to close with a hard clink. Rushing to the door and bashing her fist, holding tight to the sheet with her other, Jo found herself screaming to no response.

—

Day 4

Jo had fallen asleep waiting up for him.

She had gotten home just after midnight, a minor detour on the way back to pick up their baby from Bobby’s had delayed her a little such that she half expected him to already be back and waiting for her - but instead she’d gotten back to a house just as empty as it had been after that fateful hunt so, so many days ago by her standards. If it weren’t for the bandages around her forearms and the clumps of Purgatory dirt still clinging to her hair that she had yet to shower away, Jo would almost think it was a dream.

She’d fallen asleep sitting on the couch waiting for him, and scratching at her dirty, sticky and mucky skin; Jo finally decided it was time to engage in the one feature she had truly missed - indoor plumbing and hot water.

Her teeth had taken forever to clean and get the horrible taste of years of grime off of them. Her hair had been a matted mess of tangles, twigs, mud and knots that took almost an hour of tugging through with a hair brush, the hot water running along it, and slathers of conditioner to detangle and gleam again. Her finger nails were a lost cause and were clipped off low and scrubbed to red before the dirt was all gone.

She had just finished balancing precariously against the cold tile and keeping as much of her as possible under the hot water flow to complete shaving her legs for the first time in 83 years when she heard a voice outside of the shower screen. The voice was rough around the edges, and moved more fluidly between deep, rough and raw pitches and up to higher, cracked notes on the emphasis. “So, this is where you got to…”

Jo let out a scream, slicing a thin cut down her leg as she dropped the razor and span about in the shower space, jerking the shower screen open to get a visual on whoever was in her home now. Blinking the still pouring water out of her eyes, she shank back against the tile behind her.

“Jo! Oh no, no, I’m so sorry! I thought you heard me coming in, I called out for you - I’m so so sorry.” The stranger reacted immediately, hands held out in a calming motion and confusingly bright eyes (were they blue, were they grey, were they green or hazel or what) staring at her. Jo felt the cold jolt of the tile behind her forcing her back forward under the hot water stream as she stared in confusion and slight fear at the other. Blinking her eyes as she realised what he was saying, the words sinking in for her as the water poured down over her head and washed out her ears, the blonde let out a shaky breath that matched the shaking hands of the other man. “Did you… you didn’t hurt yourself did you? You cut yourself! I’m so sorry for surprising you, it’s me.”

“Grey?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I forgot that.. I thought you heard me.” The dark haired man’s face shifted through emotions so quickly and smoothly that Jo found herself blinking under the stream of hot water and seeing a different look every second. Shifting a little forward, she wiped at her eyes and blinked as she looked over the other in much the same fashion she could tell he was doing her own battered, bruised and slightly emaciated form from so much time fighting for survival and the natural tan of her skin faded to a pale from so much time without any real sunlight. For her part, Jo found herself biting her lip as she took in the jaw line behind the slight stubble, the mussed hair that was just begging for her fingers and those damn eyes all within an extremely handsome face. He might not have looked the same as before, but she knew if she’d looked into bright blue eyes again it would just send her back to that moment every time; and leaning slightly closer out of the stream of water, Jo found herself very much appreciating the choice this time. “I couldn’t believe I was home, I’m just so happy to be back I didn’t think.”

She lifted a finger to his lips, shaking her head and tilting to one side as Jo looked over the worn and tired clothes he had on, clearly what whoever it had been’s choices rather than his own from the sight of plaid sticking out under the green jacket. “Grey, it’s fine, I just didn’t hear you. I’m so glad you’re home too.”

There was a brief second that she worried it might not have actually been her man in there, in whoever it was that seemingly had had a rough life matching the struggles her own clothes in a pile by his feet had seen; right up until the groan she heard at her touch and the dark hunger that had filled his eyes as Jo noticed him running a longing look over her and he opened his mouth to speak behind his finger, “I’m so glad to be home with you, pretty one.”

A sharp tug had him in the flow of water with her, hands frantic between the two of them to shed the various layers as quickly as possible and relearn each and every spot to one another after so long.

—

Day 51

The moment she’d pulled the car into the driveway and saw the shift of the front window’s curtain, Jo had felt the tears starting up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the way the shadow beside her flinched - his joining her on the drive purely “to make sure you don’t drive yourself into a tree”, or so he claimed - and the next minute the seat was empty and he’d disappeared leaving her to this alone. It figured.

She could see the front door opening and the first of her tears started down her cheek as she got out of the car and found herself flinging herself into his waiting arms with a sob.

“Wha… Jo, Jo, what happened? Are you okay?” Grey’s voice was that same rough tone she had gotten used to, the lows it could achieve when he was serious so surprising yet somehow soothing to her ear at the same time. There was a pause as she could feel his hands pause in their strokes over her hair and a shift in the way he was holding her as he seemed to bury his nose into her crown for a moment. The next he spoke there was ice in his tone, but he still didn’t release the comforting hold around her, “Jo. What did you do?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

There was a long tense moment as she tried to cling onto the feel of her face tucked against the warmth of his chest and his arms around her the way she fully expected to never happen again. She’d fucked up and fucked up so badly after all. Clinging onto it for a last second, Jo pulled back a little bit so she could look up at him and tried to keep her lip from trembling as her wet eyes met his cold ones.

“It wasn’t… I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.”

“I’ve heard that before, Jo.”

“And I mean it, Grey. You can look, you can look if you want, look and see I didn’t mean it to happen. I didn’t mean to do it - I was goin’ for a hug and the cheek and then one thing led to another and-”

His finger was over her lips, pressed tightly and silencing her immediately as she felt another round of tears start to silently fall. It hurt so much to think what she had done to him, to them, with just one little mistake. There was no taking it back, and as she stared up into his clouded eyes, she tried to prepare herself for the words - for him to say they were done, it was over, she disgusted him and how dare she ruin this for them forever; that he couldn’t stand to look at her, and that she was all of the things that had run through her mind on the tense drive home. That she was a slut, spreading her legs for anyone and how dare she do that when he was so so good to her. Jo tried not to move her lips under his finger but struggled to keep from letting it quiver in anticipation.

“Jo, why did you do that?” His voice was sharp in some ways, cracking into that higher pitch to the deep, gruff tone she was used to now, that always made it clear he was struggling to contain himself from doing something more. What she didn’t expect was for his hand to shift, smoothing to hold her cheek and wipe the tear marks from her skin with the gentleness he had every other time she had cried before him. “Why him of all people?”

“I… He… I’m…” Jo stammered over the words, eyes watering again but she blinked rapidly to stop them from falling. It was too cruel, it was too mean and too real if she kept crying over it; crying over what she knew was going to be the loss of the most pivotal and important thing in her world. What she’d waited decades for she’d ruined in one mistake. Shaking her head and dislodging his hand, Jo swallowed thickly before whispering quietly. “He saved me from myself.. He’s why we’re here right now.. I just feel different around..” She couldn’t quite finish her thoughts, the feelings that had been percolating for seemingly so long since that night in the alley way and put on ice for years as she hid away before being dragged into the light over the last few two months jarred and cut away at her for their very existence. Denial was so much easier.

“I see now.” Grey’s voice was so soft she almost thought she’d misheard him as he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, and Jo felt her eyes widen at the movement and the acceptance she could see radiating out of his expression.

“What..”

“We can get past this.” He murmured, pulling her back in against him but careful to avoid touching or moving the hair that covered the dark bruise on her neck, drawing her back into the house with an unexpected kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were blown wide in shock and confusion as he guided her about, each gesture feeling so like normal but completely unnatural for what she’d just done. “I love you, Jo. And loving you comes with complications sometimes.”

“This isn’t right.” She mumbled the words to herself as he moved them towards the couch, feather light touches from him, as she sank into the fabric with a shake of her head. Something was not right but she had no idea what.

—

Day 11

There was a knocking on the front door - a strange noise Jo still hadn’t quite adjusted to remembering - as they’d sat down for breakfast that morning. She had actually jumped at the sound, hand clutched tightly around the small butter knife ready to strike out as she jerked her head around looking for the source until the calming hand slid over hers.

“It’s just the front door, Jo.” Grey said softly, his thumb rubbing against her knuckles as she slowly released the tight grip. “I’ll go see who it is, okay?”

“Okay..” Jo let out a shaky breath as she set the knife back down and waited until he’d stood up and moved to the door to pick up her toast, chewing one bite of her Nutella covered piece before the sounds of a loud shout had her jerking from her seat.

Running out the kitchen towards the front door, she was surprised to see Grey standing dead set in the middle of the doorway and blocking entry to the stranger on the doorstep.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Despite the change of body, one Jo had definitely appreciated and enjoyed over the last week, the tone was still so clearly the same as Grey snarled at whoever was outside. He was glaring up the very slight height difference at the tall, muscular man waiting outside. “How did you think showing up here was okay?”

“Oh fuck off, runt, I’m not here to cause trouble.” It took a moment for the words to sink in and recognise who the stranger must be, the dark, silky voice cutting jarringly with the way she was used to hearing the derogatory name sounding like. Jo moved along the hallway, toast still in hand and eyes darting between the sneer on the newcomer’s face and the way Grey’s shoulders were tight and firmly in place - a hand to either side of the door way blocking the entrance completely. “I just wanted to talk to sweetie.”

“Don’t call her that in front of me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Jesus Christ, the both of you.” Stepping closer and chewing around another mouthful of her breakfast, torn off in her teeth and staring in exasperation at the pair as they’d started their typical process of posturing and stepping-up to one another like they were in the centre of an MMA ring, Jo snapped in exasperation. Both heads swung to look at her immediately as she reached Grey’s side, looking between them. “Hun, I’m sure he’s just by to say thank you or somethin’. Not that big a deal right?” Her free hand rested on his shoulder, rubbing gently at the tight knot of muscle there as he slowly dropped the arm from blocking the door on her side. “Nothin’ to go get riled up about, aye?”

“If that’s all he’s here for, then yes.” Grey growled the words out, his hand lowered from the door frame but immediately going around her waist and tugging her against his side with a sneer towards the other shadow. “And he can say it right here, now, quickly and then fuck right off.”

“I thought I said not to tell me what to do.” Jo blinked a little at the other’s tone, and looked over the heated glare that the pale hand splayed around her waist was getting from him. Gray’s choice in body seemed more expressive than the last, arms crossed tight across his chest with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his fists clearly clenched tightly. As she looked up at his face, there were dark circles under his eyes and a sallow look to his skin that she didn’t think seemed like it should be there - despite the cocky yet angry look he was giving his brother. His eyes didn’t even move to meet hers as he remarked quietly, “But yes, I wanted to say thank you for getting me out of there.”

“You’re welcome, Gray. I see you’ve got yourself back on your feet pretty quick.” She found herself smiling up at him, lifting her toast for another bite as she catalogued the new face in her mind so she wouldn’t be surprised running across him in future. Jo tilted her head to the side when he still wouldn’t look at her, prodding at him with her next remark and a laugh. “You doin’ okay? Your not looking too crash hot.”

She wasn’t lying either, aside from the dark rings under the eyes and the washed out complexion, his shirt was rumpled and looked like he’d been unable to get comfortable in either it or his new skin and he didn’t seem to have the same energy to spare keeping up the cocky bravado against his brother’s glare that was usually so easy for him to conjure up. Gray seemed like he was ill, which made no sense since he’d said he was fine just over a week ago when she’d brought him back.

“I’m fine, sweetie.” The words were growled out in that deep voice she was still surprised to hear but seemed to match his new face well. “Just need to get back into the swing of things again.”

“Oh, you only just getting back to fucking floozies and causing carnage?” Grey snarled the words out, his grip pulling firmer upon Jo’s waist as she moved to take a step forward past him towards the other shadow. “Would have thought that you’d have been at it within minutes, or you still all sad about having died?”

“Fuck you, runt,” Gray snarled back, but it lacked some of the force Jo was used to behind it, and peeling the other’s hand off of her waist as she moved forward onto the stoop, she looked up at him curiously as he continued to avoid looking at her. “I’ll have you know that there will be another five mysterious disappearances to be investigated already.”

“Oooh five whole people, huh?”

“You want to make it six?”

“You don’t have the balls to try it.”

The sniping back and forth made her want to laugh, right up until the way Gray’s face shifted from a smirk into one of surprise at her hand on his arm and the savage sounding hiss she heard behind her. Jo tilted her head to the side looking at him curiously as he looked at her straight on for the first time the whole conversation, eyes wide and hungry. She thought she almost saw something like fear flooding across his face as he seemed to shift unconsciously towards her, leaning down towards her like a plant towards sunlight, before the next second she was holding air and he’d disappeared.

“Well, guess he got his thanks in, huh…” Jo mumbled the words, blinking in surprise herself at the sudden disappearance before stuffing the remains of her chocolate-spread toast into her mouth, turning back to Grey with a confused shrug.

His face was just as confusing for her as the other’s had been, an almost dark and fearful look piercing through his eyes as she moved back to his side and he slammed the door shut. Jo found herself jumping at the sound before her back was pressed against it and she pushed any thought about how bad Gray had looked from her mind at the lips to her neck and hands to her waist.

—

Day 100

“Please.. please don’t do this, Jo.” His voice cracked at the start as Jo could see him moving up the steps of the front stoop, gentle and slow as if to avoid spooking her and make her nail the last strip of iron down across the entry way any quicker than she already was moving. It felt like a nail through her back hearing it, and Jo kept her eyes downcast rather than look up to meet what she was sure were a desperate and wet green-blue. “You don’t need to do this to us. This doesn’t change anything between us, you know it, you know it. Please don’t do this.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“No, no no, Jo, pretty one, please no. You don’t have to do this at all.”

Jo merely shook her head at that as she lost her grip on the hammer for a moment at the term of endearment harshly whispered at her from where she knew he’d dropped to her height in front of her. She didn’t trust that looking up into his endearing and pained face that she’d have to stomach to drive the last few nails in. “I do need to do this. You’re sick, hun, and it’s all my fault.” Shaking her head again, she readjusted her grip on the hammer before hitting in the next nail in line with her shaking hands. “You both are, and you both need to heal.”

“Really sweetie, you and our bitch sister are making too big a fuss out of this.” The words were dangerous. Jo knew that now, she remembered now just how dangerous that one could be when he wanted to be. She’d forgotten under the gentle but harsh touches and care when she was further gone than she’d ever been before. She’d forgotten after years of other dangers being faced and defeated, a cockiness born from the fading of time. She’d forgotten up until the woods and the hard tree trunk behind her just the influence he had over her. And now he was reclining up against the side of the door frame staring down at her with that same dangerous glint in his eye that made her shake at the memories. “Both me and the runt don’t care, it’s not that big a deal.”

“And if you weren’t currently affected and mind addled, you’d completely agree with me that this is that big a deal, you dick.” Jo growled the words back, glaring up at the cold look he was giving her. There was that shoulder shrug again that made her want to reach out and hit him with the hammer, but instead slammed the head down on the next nail - catching her own under it’s force as well with a hiss. “Fuck, fuckity fucking shit!”

“Jo!” The gasped name made her look up as she shoved her aching finger into her mouth, sucking harshly down on the sore nail that had just taken the brunt of her anger, and regretted it immediately. Grey’s face was right by her’s, not even a foot of distance between them as he crowded as closely as he could to her with the metal between them. She could see his hands twitching to reach, to touch, to reassure and help; and it just made everything hurt as much as her nail did right then. “Are you okay?” That hurt even more, watching as he laid a hand on the iron barrier, trying to get closer.

“God it’s just a hammer, Grey, get your hand back.” She hissed the words out harshly as she pulled her finger from her mouth and tried to keep from leaning forwards towards him in return. The next second he had his hand back against his chest, and Jo felt the stab of discomfort realising it was due to his compulsion to make her happy than his own choices. Jo flinched, moving to hit at the last nail as the disgust at herself ran through her - who knew how much of the last few months was due to his, and the other’s, own wishes and how much was her own. How much damage had she already done to each of them. Thinking back, she couldn’t even remember what she might have said or demanded of them that other than that she’s sure there would be something. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it Jo. Please don’t worry, just.. Let me make it better.” That got a shudder running through her, eyes darting up to meet his almost grey in the current light, before flinching again and moving to suck on her still sore finger again rather than reply or give into the pleading, desperate look. Grey’s fingers twitched as if to reach out again, and then he moved in sync with her to his feet now the metal was in place and not able to be moved any time soon. He shifted, crowding against the door way, staring and hands wrapping around the wood as Jo reached out for the door itself with a shaking hand. “Jo, please. I need you, please don’t shut me out.” His grip tightened and there was an audible crack of the wooden doorframe as she began to swing the door closed, his face twisting in a way that made her core ache to have caused. “It doesn’t matter to me about the mark, I love you regardless this doesn’t change anything. Please, let me make this okay.”

“You can’t though.” She shook her head, pulling the door almost all the way closed, already blocking her sight of the other one looming off to the side with an extremely angry look to his face, and running her fingers just millimetres from his own before sighing sadly. There was a flash across his face as she moved her hand back - a dark, dangerous and obsessive flash that she’d not seen on this face of his before - for a second as the wood closed and blocked him out from her sight with a quiet click of the latch. “No one can make this okay.”

—

Day 290

There was an actual knock on the door that day which had surprised her. Typically Bobby would come down and hang out with her for a few hours each day as well as just bringing her down something to eat as and when necessary. She’d begged to be allowed out and throughout the house as long as there was iron down - but her arguments against Shada’s demands that Jo could not be trusted still given the last time she was left to walk free around an only-ironed house - though that had been shut down entirely.

So far that month she had gotten to leave for bathing and bathroom breaks, and one time Bobby had both Sam and Dean over so determined that between three of them they could keep her in line. As if she was a wild horse that refused to be broken and would bolt at the first sign of freedom. As if she was a child that needed to be watched, and cared for, and kept from drinking the colorful bottles under the sink. As if she was a danger to anyone but the shadow. Most of the other days and hours had bled into one another, filled with reading text book upon text book from Bobby’s extensive library collection learning more in a month than she had in her first three years of hunting combined, doing an array of exercises after Bobby had brought an old punching bag into the room for her and a yoga mat for the middle of the floor, and whining for even just an Easy Bake Oven to be brought down to her eventually.

That there was a knock suggested today was something different than usual, and not bothering to check if her shirt was a new one or one that she’d worn for the last week or if she’d brushed her hair yet today or not, the blonde bounded over to the room’s one door expectantly.

“You’ve got a visitor. The girl approved it as one you’re allowed out for.” Jo tilted her head curiously at Bobby’s gruffer than usual tone, the sound of distaste dripping off of every word and that made no sense at all to her. Bobby and Shada were in this together, they’d formulated some fucked up plan without asking her and there was no reason for him to sound so angry about something the girl shadow would have agreed to. “She said somethin’ about your boy not showing up while they’re around, so lets see if her theory holds. Don’t come out of the basement though, I don’t want you disappearin’ on me, girlie.”

“Sure thing?” Her head tilted to the other side curiously as the hunter gave her a stiff nod, a brow raised up as she watched him shuffle out of the basement without another look back at her. Their relationship had been strained after she screamed about how he wasn’t her father - he wasn’t anyone’s father - and he had no right to do this to her on day fifteen right as her period had arrived. Jo hadn’t quite found it in herself to apologise yet as he had yet to apologise for keeping her cooped up either.

Jo looked about curiously, moving around the basement slowly and tiredly as she enjoyed just having some different surroundings for the first time in quite a while. She was flicking open and closed some unfinished curse box when she heard footsteps along the stairs behind her and then the last voice she expected, “Well, well, well, you’ve never looked worse.”

Spinning, Jo ran a speculative eye over him comparing to the last time they’d talked just under four months earlier. He seemed to be doing well compared to what she remembered on hid brother’s face when she’d seen him for the first time in months - Grey’s had been sallow and sickly and appeared to come back to health the minute he’d touched her - and his own had been much the same if a little better condition in the motel room but was now looking absolutely fine without any such requirements. Gray was definitely dressed for the weather outside for once it seemed, with both a coat and his normal suit jacket over the white shirt compared to the relaxed style from earlier in the year when they’d hang out over a movie in Summer. December was definitely upon them, and from the slight dewy look to his coat, she figured it was raining if not snowing outside most days now. The panic room had started to get cold.

“Never? You remember the alley right?” Jo quipped back, folding her arms petulantly under her chest as she stepped back to lean against the bench behind her. That got her a dark look as the shadow appeared to stalk right up to her, closer than she’d  been to anyone except Bobby and Shada in almost a month, a snarl on his lips in response.

He gripped her chin in his hand firmly at that point, turning her face to either side under the rough speculation. She’d expected this, him to snap back to mean and rough and not nice to her at all after what she’d unintentionally done to him - a violent kickback to the caring he’d done for her after the alley and then the almost domesticity they’d engaged in for a little while there, curled up together for the odd gory or psychological movie afternoon - and Jo let out a quiet, resigned sigh as his thumb rubbed her jawline roughly.

“You aren’t far off of it, sweetie. When was the last time you got a bit of sun on that skin of yours? Brushed your hair even? Please tell me you’ve been keeping your oral hygiene up.”

“Why? Not like it matters to anyone else.”

“I doubt the runt’s going to want to kiss you when your teeth have all fallen out is all. I’m sure the blow jobs’d be good though.”

“I’d have you know, mine are great as they are.”

“I’m sure you think so, sweetie.”

The bickering felt strangely normal for them, normal in the sense of the last year of his life, and Jo’s eyes widened as she looked up at him to see a bemused smirk on his lips rather than anything sinister or cruel as she’d expected. There was a moment when she saw he’d finally noticed her looking back at him, and his lips curled up a little wider, a little more amused still.

“Really though, when was the last time you looked in the mirror - you look a frightful mess. Imagine what the runt’d say seeing you-”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to see him for quite a while so I guess that doesn’t matter.” Jo snapped the words back, turning her head to look away from him petulantly. At that moment, something struck with her and jerking her head back and running a hand over her hair, Jo gaped up at him. “Are you back to normal?!”

“By normal, do you mean I’m no longer filled with an agony at your not being around and the unending desire to do whatever you say?” Gray’s voice filled with that dangerous tone, soft and silky and washing over her, as his hand moved from her chin to her neck - tilting her head up towards him as if judging the boundaries with her. “Then yes, I’m back to normal. All that…Joanna spread on my Vice is gone.”

“Do.. Do you think he’ll be back soon?” Jo found herself asking quietly, almost as if ripped unbidden from her throat as she looked up at him pleadingly. It would be a dream come true for the other to be okay so soon.

That got a dark chuckle however, as Gray dropped his hand from her skin and took a step back from her with a shake of his head and something she thought looked familiar - that unknowable and indecipherable look he got for a while - cloaked across his face as he looked back at her. “Not by a long shot. You and I? We weren’t as… entwined as you and the runt.”

Jo flushed at that phrasing, her eyes darting back away from him immediately with a scowl. “Yeah, well, that was one time and it was a mistake.”

“Oh undoubtedly. It was a mistake for sure to give you a go at what you’re missing out on being with the runt.”

“Fuck you, that’s not at all what I meant.”

“If I recall, you already did recently too, sweetie.” Gray’s laugh was just as dangerous as his words could be, and Jo found herself shaking her head in response to him before the sound stopped. “But you’re right. It was a mistake and I look forward to now being able to go enjoy some much more fun, less prudish and freaked out girls than yourself now that little issue is fixed up.”

“If I asked you not to go killin’ them, I doubt you’d listen, right?”

“Too right.” He stepped back towards her as Jo had rolled her eyes on her previous comments, and found herself rolling them again as he tweaked her nose with a smirk. “However, since you’re so miserable, I may just hold off on killing all of them. Misery loving company after all.”

“Then you’re goin’ to be in the very best company.”

—

Day 45

“This really is too big for one hunter, Jo, and you know it.”

“Oh my god, no it’s not!”

“I hate to agree with him, but he’s not wrong sweetie-”

“Are you fucking shitting me?” Jo found herself growling out the words from her spot in Grey’s lap on the couch, slamming her journal shut with a dissatisfying thud as she looked between the two men with a scowl. “It’s just a little vampire nest, it’s really not that hard or much for me.”

“A… a little nest, huh? Then why did Bobby say it was looking like ten vampires, hmm?” Grey snapped back, his arms moving to wrap about her waist as she made a move as if to get up in a huff. “That sure doesn’t sound like a little nest to me. Does it sound little to you, dickhead?”

“I don’t think he-”

“Oh I definitely agree, that is not just a little nest you’re going after there. You’re going for a full blown, three or more hunters type set up there and you know it, sweetie.” Gray replied, picking up on the slack from the other shadow’s line of commentary, giving a short nod of agreement from where he was standing near the front windows, looking out onto the street. “I figure you’re going to need to call in those Winchester buddies of yours for this.”

“Last I heard, Dean broke his foot and is out of commission for another month.” The other jumped in as Jo opened her mouth to agree and then brush off the concerns with a little white lie or two - she could have taken just Sam and they’d still be fine for the most part, five vampires each shouldn’t be too hard between them. “And Sam’s off on some demonic omens down south so they’re out of the picture.”

“Have you been listenin’ in on my calls?”

“Can’t be listening in when you just talk so loudly, Jo.” Grey smirked a little and Jo found herself cursing mentally that that looked far too good on his current face. “So, guess you’ll need to palm it off on someone else cause I’m not letting you go through all that hard work with… with getting me out to go get yourself turned into a vampire-snack.” She might have been feeling sour and glared at that term, but his hand was stroking through her hair and it was smoothing away the lines of her frown quickly.

“I mean..” Jo felt Grey’s hand freeze, right behind her ear, as the other spoke up quietly from where he was standing. Turning her head slightly, she saw Gray was fiddling with his sleeves awkwardly, pushing them up and then pulling them down again, before he added with a curious lack of emotion to the words. “Well, one of us could always accompany her if there were no other options and sweetie was absolutely determined to complete this… hunt.”

There was a long strained silence following that word. Gray seemed to turn his attention back out the window, as if disinterested in the topic in general himself. Grey on the other hand appeared to be staring, borderline glaring, across at the other as if trying to work out exactly what the other had meant by bringing up such an idea.

And Jo was looking down at her journal in her lap, head tilted forward as her mind flashed to the last time she had gone on a hunt with someone else. It had been such a sunny day and it had been so nice after they’d left the cave with the burnt out remains. She could almost feel the sun on her cheeks and the way he’d slipped the flowers into her hair with that carefree look as they trekked back down. She could almost feel the life drifting away under her fingers as the pulse got weaker. She could actually smell the metallic scent of blood in her nose, clogging up her senses and throwing her mind straight back to that point, as her teeth had bit down hard enough to draw blood on her bottom lip - stuck in the memory of it.

“Not Grey.” She croaked the words out, hands gripping onto her journal tightly as she blinked her eyes back into reality rather than reliving that moment - so so long ago for her but still so so fresh to her - to see two extremely concerned faces staring at her. There was a second before a flash of understanding crossed the named shadow’s face and he had his forehead pressed against hers in a blink, calm tones behind whispered to her as his arms rubbed her back now. “You… you can’t.”

“I won’t, I promise Jo. I won’t go and it won’t happen again.” Grey murmured quietly, pressing his lips to her forehead before glaring across her crown to the other, hissing sharply, “Look what you did.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to fix it and tag along with her, won’t I?”

—

Day 320

Jo had actually started looking forward to the days she’d get these visits.

Not just because they were the few days that she got to sit about in the lounge room and stretch her legs. Not just because she would get to bake in the real oven and would spend over five hours just relieving the stress she couldn’t quite work off in her normal slashing ways. Not just because they were the days that she got to have windows open and sit with her face in actual sunlight hitting on her.

But because they always included a boundless amount of false perkiness from the other woman as she tried to conceal how things were going. How things were taking forever to heal - in a way that even Crowley’s influence hadn’t taken. How the siblings were no longer on speaking terms - something that Jo knew would be cutting the girl deeper and deeper every time that she went to check on her brother - except for any messages that the girl had to take back from Jo herself. How the other had ironed himself into the house despite the burning to simply avoid the other shadow - and how both Winchester brother’s had been called in together and separately almost a handful of times to remove the offending elements and try to speak to the angry, agonised man.

Shada tried so hard to conceal the stress, but Jo could always tell when something had gone poorly. It was usually evident from the sheer amount of shopping bags the woman brought with her, the more bags, the worse it was going.

Today there were over fifteen shopping bags with items ranging from the latest designer fashions for the shadow herself, to a selection of warm clothes and blankets and throws for Jo in her little buried tower, to books that Jo had expressed an interest in getting her hands on for reading that weren’t just books on lore and monsters, to what she thought were supposed to be knick knacks to “brighter up” the panic room and “girl it up” compared to the stark walls and sketchy calendar that Jo hadn’t bothered to take down just yet.

“And so this really cute guy was like ‘Can I get you an aspirin? Cause it must have hurt when you fell from Heaven’ and like... thought that was a good pick up line. On me of all people too!” Shada flipped her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated flounce and pout on her face, the dark plum lipstick for today part of some trend Jo had spotted as up and coming in the last fashion magazine the other had left with her. It seemed that the shadow was taking Jo’s imprisonment to really be more a captive audience to get Jo into fashion and designers like the shadow was - and Jo had found herself slowly becoming interested out of sheer boredom, not that she’d admit it. The other woman rolled her eyes as she lifted her pineapple juice to her lips taking a dainty sip before shrugging her shoulder. “At least he was cute.”

“Oh yeah, they gotta be cute or it’s just tacky.”

“I know right?” There was a pause and a slightly wistful sigh from the other which had Jo raising her brow in questioning response. “I wish more of the cute guys I know would be interested in talking to me.”

“If you’re-”

“Relax, I know my brother is in a very good looking man at the moment, but I know. I meant possibly more one of your so called brothers.” Shada held up her hand to shut down the objection Jo always found popping up in defence, or perhaps it was in possessiveness, of the other shadow. Jo spluttered a little on her sip of her soft drink at the shadow’s words, the other brow raising in surprise as the other rolled her eyes. “Mother, you are so judgey for someone who wanted to go there herself.”

“Nah, more just surprised you have crossed paths enough-”

“Once is more than enough to acknowledge cuteness, cupcake, and you know it. But they’ve both been very helpful dealing with brother-”

“He been locking himself in again? Has he been feeding enough? Is he okay? How’s Nana? Did you see Amon last time you were there? Did Bobby and the boys keep his list updated? I can get some more cases if he needs.”

“Whoa there,” The dark-haired girl held her hand up with her forcefully placed smile cracking slightly under Jo’s onslaught of questions. It was always the same and she would feel bad for doing it to the other if it weren’t the gnawing feelings inside that she absolutely needed to know the answers. She had to know he was okay, that he was going to be there when she finally got home. She felt the prickle starting in her eyes as she sucked in a nervous breath waiting for the other to answer, always stuck waiting for someone else to answer her what was going on in her own life now.

Shada appeared to pause before shrugging in lieu of answering, her hands wrapping calmly around her juice glass and the dark purple manicure with her black sparkly hearts seemed just right for the time of year. It would be Valentine’s soon, or perhaps Jo had missed it - she’d gotten lax at crossing off days on her pin-up calendar and would need to ask someone to tell her the date later, not that the calendar was even the right year any more. If she remembered to ask.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Jo snarled the words out, glaring out the window and eyes darting about the small section of salvage yard she could see from there. Maybe if she looked hard enough or was lucky she’d spot the messy dark curls, if she was very lucky. Sighing sadly, she sunk slightly down in her chair as she spotted the back of the older hunter’s head instead as he weaved throughout the yard, asking quietly instead in the hopes of finally getting an answer to something. “How much longer is this going to last..”

The other shadow merely shrugged again in response, her eyes not meeting Jo’s own and she found herself sighing again. Waiting wasn’t particularly hard any more to her, but the waiting without an end date was killing her slowly inside every day.

—

Day 400

“Okay, this had better be really fucking important.” The remark floated down the stairs ahead of him as Jo had been sitting in the centre of the panic room, door wide open and no one between her and her freedom. She barely noticed the words, nor did she notice when the man turned around the corner of the stairs to see straight through to where she was. Jo had barely noticed anything for the last 36 hours other than the book held tightly in her hands against her chest, clutched against her like Leo to the door. “Ah. That does seem important. Sweetie is just sitting like an idiot, clearly something that needed my assistance.”

“Just shut up, she’s been like this for two days now.” The other shadow snapped the words back at the taller one, hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and refusing to let go as he tugged to turn and leave. Jo is sure that Shada had not expected the fight with her other brother to go as poorly as it had done - Shada couldn’t understand the significance of some silly celebration about one’s existence starting, shadows shared their creation day with many many of their siblings - there was nothing special about it worth getting her throat crushed and a threat to be drained before the older hunter had loosed an iron round into his brother’s shoulder. And then for Jo to appear almost catatonic in response to some little book of drawings made no sense at all to anyone but her. Only one person could possibly have some insight, and it had taken hours to convince him to return now that he did not have the stain. “Do freaking something to fix this!”

“Have you thought to, I don’t know, give her the runt?”

“Something helpful to fix it. No wonder they call your a dickhead.”

“You’d know all about my old one, sis, want to give this one a go?”

Shada had flushed in response to that, and had scurried away under the pretence of avoiding his “gross suggestions” leaving the responsibility to “fix cupcake” to her brother.

Jo didn’t notice at all until the tennis ball hit her in the head that there was anyone outside the room, frowning slightly to herself as she released her grip of one hand and reached up to rub at her temple gently. She froze noticing the man standing just outside the panic room door - his sleeves rolled up and sans jacket, meaning the weather must be nice outside or he was trying to be more approachable for her.

“Sweetie, what have you gone and done to get everyone so worried?” The question came out gently, like someone trying to coax a feral animal out from it’s den, but the smirk on his face was anything but nice. She’s sure this would be thoroughly amusing to him. “You want to come out and tell me all about it.”

“Is that a request or a demand?” Jo’s voice sounded rough, dry and harsh from the lack of use recently, as she shifted awkwardly in her spot, hands pressing the sketchbook tighter against her chest. “I haven’t done nothin’.”

“Oh, I absolutely believe you’ve done nothing, sweetie. I think that is what they are all freaking out about.”

“So they want me to do something? The something I want-”

“Sweetie, I can already tell what you want. Now, get up, brush those legs off and come over here so we can talk proper.”

The words made her blink in surprise as she looked between the confusing look - that damn look - on the shadow’s face and the dark leather book in her arms as if trying to toss up which would comfort her more. She’d been pouring all of her need for comfort into the black book filled with drawings that both helped and hurt her - drinking them in like she was in a desert in need of thirst - but so far it had not helped the gnawing, gaping hole she’d not felt since she first entered the forests of Purgatory with a game plan and mission in mind. So far, that hole had begun to open again the longer she spent away from him, from the original cause of that pain that had almost healed before this separation tore the healing, fragile skin open again day by day.

“Come on, Jo.” The gentle prodding was all she needed to set the book down reverently upon the bed she had been using for months now and step out of the room, over the iron boundary that was what separated her from who she really wanted to be comforted by. She knew that it would revile the man in front of her to be thought of as second best, but as she approached, she felt her feet moving faster until she was pressed into his chest and let it out finally.

She could feel his discomfort spilling out of him as much as her tears were spilling out of her and into his shirt front. She could feel his arms stiffen to his sides for the first minute as if expecting her to release him quickly. She could feel one of them wrap around her shoulders and his palm spread across her back, a hot brand against her numb-cold. She could feel the other begin to stroke over her hair uncertainly, an attempt to mimic what he may have seen or what he’d done in past or just what seemed to feel right, but all it did was cause her to cry harder. If he’d been the right person then he’d know exactly what to do. He’d know to press their foreheads together, to stare her down and stroke her tears away with his thumbs, to kiss her so sweetly she’d forget all about her tears.

Instead it took almost half an hour for her tears to finally dry up, the beginnings of a headache dragging at her temples and her cheeks feeling sore and dried out from the salty substance that had coated them. She might have been a mess the last time they spoke, but Jo knew it had nothing on the way she would look now as she finally shifted back a little to look up at him. Gray’s face was pure disgust as she sniffed at her blocked nose, wiping across it with her sleeve.

And for the first time in ages, Jo found herself laughing.

—

Day 23

“Seriously why the fuck do you keep showing up here?” Grey snapped the words out from where he sat against the back door to the kitchen, arms crossed and legs stretched to cover the entry as if it was a barrier to the whole space. “It’s not like we want you here.”

“Oh, so you speak for the both of you now, do you runt?” The response was ground out between his teeth as Gray stood against the bottom banister of the steps with a frown. “Didn’t realise sweetie had lost her voice.”

“Fuck you-”

“Guys! Please!” Jo jerked herself to her feet from where she’d been reclining along the steps, her foot had been pressed up against Gray’s calf and one hand rested back across Grey’s thigh originally.

It had been something of a strangely tense point of topic for the last week as a whole - that the other shadow had been hanging around more, first just lurking outside the house like a bad smell, and then catching Jo as she’d gone about her day in increasing frequency. It had been driving Grey crazy each time he spotted the pair of them near one another, and had started following Jo about as she’d throw the ball with Nana or increasingly coming up with ways to keep her busy inside. Or exhausted as one day had.

“Hey, he started it!”

“Me?! I was just here to say hi-”

“Oh right, because you spending over an hour talking is just ‘hi’.”

“Maybe you just don’t say ‘hi’ properly. What, only take you two minutes, runt? Doesn’t surprise me you wouldn’t have the stamina for a proper.. hello.”

Jo stamped her foot loudly on the bottom step at that point as the shadow near the door had thrown himself to his feet, hands outstretched towards the other at that last remark. Her foot made a loud cracking sound on the weathered wood below, almost snapping it into two.

“That is enough!” Glaring between the two shadows, neither appearing to be stepping down from the aggressive feelings towards one another, but at least Grey’s hands were down by his side and Gray’s had slipped out of his pocket where he stored his razor without removing the silver weapon. That was a start. Stamping her foot again and throwing her hands out between them as Jo shifted to block their paths to one another, she first turned towards the taller of the pair, eyes pleading. “Gray, God, just stop starting shit. I know you don’t want to admit you like comin’ around here, but if you keep this up, you’re not goin’ to be welcome much longer. Please don’t make this any harder than it is. Just leave him alone for fucks sake; don’t piss your brother off for no fucking reason.”

“I..” Jo frowned slightly as she watched him appear to seethe with anger, eyes focused above her head where she could feel the other looming, before her face changed to surprise. The shadow appeared to let out a shaky breath, hands going back into his pockets and his head bowed slightly in a nod to her, eyes dropped to her face instead of the one she was sure was glaring down from above her, wide and clear and full of something she couldn’t quite pick. “I… Can do that. But only for you, sweetie.”

There was something to the look she was getting that seemed strange on the other, the slight incline of his head and the way he seemed to almost shudder when her hand touched his shoulder. The somewhat hungry and something else look in his eye as Jo smiled at him, shocked to see one come back at her in return. Shaking her head as she dropped her hand and turned back around towards the other, she couldn’t help thinking that he was such an asshole for picking that face.

“Hun…” Jo could see the fire hiding behind his greenish-blue eyes as she turned back to Grey, hands going straight to either side of his face, fingers brushing just into his hair as she moved to the next step up and attempting to draw his eyes to look at hers instead of glaring holes into the other shadow. There was a second when she thought he wouldn’t be able to pull away from the hatred to really listen to her, before he was pining her with a look instead. She sighed heavily as she stepped up the next step to be on the same level yet still always shorter and looking up at him. “Grey, he doesn’t mean any harm. He took care of me when..” Jo felt her throat tighten for a moment, her thumb stroking over the cheekbone that didn’t match the ones she had dreamed of for years but that had become so familiar in just three weeks as it was. “When you weren’t able to. He cared for me, he saved me. And I had to save him too, you know this. And now? You need to accept that we’re friends. You have to accept that, and stop tryin’ to stop me spend time with him just cause you don’t like him.”

“Jo..” The word was a whined tone, Grey’s eyes darting between each of her’s and then staring over her head down where Gray was kicking a foot out towards the battered bottom step as if not wanting to hear or acknowledge anything that Jo was saying. She could see the pull to shout and disagree, but leaning up, Jo pressed her lips to his softly before pulling back with a quizzical quirk of her eyebrow, inquiring if he would acquiesce to her request. There was a heavy sigh before she felt his hands wrap about her waist and his head dropped onto her shoulder with another sigh. “Okay.. Okay Jo, whatever you want.”

—

Day 450

Their phone calls had become more frequent in the last month, something shifting in the way their conversations wouldn’t always end with him asking her to come home or in how her heart didn’t end up twisted around itself at having to refuse him something they both so definitely needed. She couldn’t pinpoint when it was that they had changed so much, but she’d found herself laughing more often than not and hearing his own tone filled with amusement instead of just longing.

“And then when Aziraphale gave him the flask of Holy Water-”

“In the plaid little flask! Yes! Oh I so love the 70′s vibes in that part.”

“You would not have liked the 70′s, Jo, all the women- wait, no you would have loved it. Bra burning and jeans being all the rage.”

“Hey!” Jo laughed down the line as she swung up onto the back two legs of the kitchen chair she was sitting on, swallowing down her giggles at the look she was being shot from the grumpy older hunter in the other room. She was absolutely certain she’d over stayed her welcome more than five months ago, but it was his fault for teaming up with the foxy little minx to drag her here. He could deal with her actually having an enjoyable conversation for once. “I’ll have you know, I wore a bra two separate times this week!”

“Two times, huh? What colour?”

“What?”

“What colour, Jo?”

“I...  We are not discussing that on this line!” Jo could feel herself flushing more and more at his questions, rubbing her other cheek with one hand as she let out another giggle. He could hear his own rough, soft laughter in response from down the line under the slight static of the old phone line. She decided she loved that laugh of his the most in that moment. “And I won’t tell you what fabric either.”

“I bet they were black and lace, maybe even no fixed cups.” There was something in his tone that made her squirm and stand up out of her chair, pulling the phone cord and chair around into the hallway out of the other hunter’s sight. She was not going to have that happen in front of Bobby of all people. “Did the panties match?”

“God, have you been talking to your sister or something? You realise she is the source of all my clothes at the moment-”

“So it’s all black and purple and more than a little revealing for your body type?”

“Yeah pretty much. Pretty sure Sam got an eyeful last month and he hasn’t looked me in the eye since.” Jo chuckled slightly, shifting so she could lean back against the wall if she tipped the chair just right, balancing on the back legs and crossing her own as she kicked her feet in the air. “I cannot wait to get into my own wardrobe again.”

“I can’t wait to get you out of your own wardrobe.”

“Seriously? I’m on a landline and Bobby’s in the next room, hun!”

“I bet you’re bright red right now.” Grey’s laugh came through the line again, and Jo let out an indignant noise in response, scrubbing at her cheeks as if that would make it disappear. There was a pause before she felt herself calming down from the embarrassment at his next words, “But seriously, I can’t wait until you get to come home, Jo. I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I.. I think I’ve been getting better. It.. hasn’t been like knives painful but just-”

“Longing painful?”

“Exactly.” There was another pause, and Jo could practically visualise the way he would be scratching at the back of his neck, trying to decide if he wanted to say what must be running through his mind or not. Whether or not it would upset her, if it would end up with her crying or not. “I think I’m almost better, Jo. I mean, it’s hard to tell cause I’ve always loved you this much, but I think it’s changing back to normal? I mean, I’ve been thinking about going and beating the dickhead into a pulp more and more lately-”

“That’s.. really not the best way to decide if you’re healing, is it?” Jo let out a laugh hearing that though, shaking her head as she imagined just how furious he was going to be once the mark was gone. “But maybe it is. Let me know the moment you plan to attack him and come attack me instead?”

Grey appeared to suck in a breath at that, and she wasn’t sure what it was about but then there was a long quiet pause. Waiting another second, Jo let out a laugh. “You know I can’t hear you noddin’, hun.”

—

Day 48

“This… this was wrong.” Jo mumbled the words out, hands shaking slightly as she moved to button up the front of her flannel shirt as quickly as she could to stave off the cold night air. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Sweetie, it takes two to tango, stop taking all the blame.” The silky tone as his fingers pushed a strand of her mussed hair back behind her ear was just as dangerous now as it had been as soon as the last of the vampires’ heads was removed from their body. It was a dangerous, dangerous sound, and Jo could feel her knees buckling slightly all over again. “If you must, you can tell the runt I manipulated it again, like the last times.”

There was the sound like a whip crack through the quiet night as her hand slapped across his face, glaring up at him from where she was still crowded up against the thick, rough tree trunk. It felt good to slap the self-deprecating look off of his face, as well as shut down the possibility that he thought so little of her to do that. Jo dropped her hand down, rubbing at the slightly pink surface of her palm with a frown.

It had not been planned or expected at all.

The tracking had been easy enough, and Jo had almost been surprised by how well they worked together through it all. It felt strange to work in tandem with someone who already knew off the bat how she worked, as well as adjusting and adapting the both of them to one another’s strengths and weaknesses. If he’d been a regular hunter, Jo’d have been asking when they could work together again in future. Instead, she’d moved to give him a celebratory kiss to the cheek and a joke about his making a fine hunter for something that deserved hunting. That plan however fell into ruins when he’d turned to face her as she’d tugged on his jacket to pull him down towards her level.

From there Gray not slowed down or moved back for one second as he’d pressed her back against the closest tree of the band of trees they’d been walking through. Jo had not expected it at all, and she’d really not expected the reaction from herself to be to pull him in closer rather than to push him away. It had been a blink of the eye in some senses and a decade in others that they’d moved from kissing to his teeth biting down on her neck like the monsters they’d just destroyed and her moans echoing through the trees. Everything after seemed like a blur to her, hands places they shouldn’t have been, clothes fumbled with and reverently opened. Kisses trailing over her skin with words whispered she couldn’t quite hear but seemed so familiar yet so different. Gentle touches followed immediately by harder ones, and despite the coarse bark at her back and the rough way he’d pushed into her after she’d been good and ready for it, the whole experience was black and white to the last time so long ago it had happened between them.

“Don’t you ever, ever accuse me of that type of thing ever again, you asshole!”

“What the fuck?!” Gray shouted back at her, his clothes righted and hand still in her hair beside her cheek, a frown on his face as his eyes stared down at her - black as the night sky above them and filled with something she was really starting to understand and wished she didn’t. “I was giving you an out, sweetie. Giving you a way to keep the runt from screaming blue murder and just make me hate him same as always. He can’t really dislike me any more than he already does.”

“By lying!” She practically screamed the word at him, shoving his arm away from her and stalking past him with a stubborn set to her jaw. Her fingers twitched to draw out her machete and just slash something to get rid of some of the tumultuous feelings rushing through her. Jo knew this was bad, this was going to be so very very bad; but she wasn’t going to make it worse by hiding the truth. “I would never lie to him like that.”

Shaking her head, Jo found herself thinking quietly as she trudged onward through the small woodland towards where her car was parked on the side of a dusty back road. She could hear his heavy footfalls keeping time with her, but none of the ragged breathing she was doing - clearly more comfortable than she was about everything. Her mind was whirring through what had just happened though, and raising a hand to her lips behind the curtain of her hair, Jo could feel the soft and almost tender way he’d kissed her still on her swollen lips.

“Hey, so what was all that about anyway?”

“What was what about?”

“All the, uh, well everything.” Jo found herself struggling over the words, dropping her fingers from her mouth and tucking them into her pockets as she stepped over a fallen log gracelessly. Her lips twitched into a scowl as she watched his longer legs step over it fluidly without the awkward trip she had done. “That was really different to before.”

“What can I say, death makes one re-evaluate how you behave, how you act and what’s important.” His voice was soft in the quiet night, but Jo could hear him crystal clear and found herself frowning deeper at the almost wistful, longing tone in his words. That couldn’t be possible though. Shaking her head, she almost sighed in relief when he spoke up again, words a little clearer and louder. “So… You’re going to tell him the truth, huh?”

“Why? Scared?” She quipped back, ducking under a low lying branch and smiling a bit as Jo saw him have trouble doing the same with the same graceful motion that stepping over an obstacle had been.

“For me? Never.”

Jo’s eyes flashed at that, looking over her shoulder as she trudged on, lips curling into a confused look at the other’s qualifier and the studiously blank look her gave her in return as he moved quickly with his longer legs to catch up with her. For all intents and purposes, he did not look like he’d just done anything wrong. And really he hadn’t been the one to.

—

Day 301

"I swear Bobby, if I don't get something else to do than read these fucking books again or bash that punching bag, I will fucking deck myself."

There was a weary sigh from the older hunter at that, and Jo would see the stress she must have been causing him starting to wear him down. It didn't feel good at all. Bobby was the closest thing she had left to a father, and being the cause of more grey hairs and wrinkles for him than she wanted to think about really hurt her.

However, he was still insisting on keeping her locked up like some princess in a fairytale. Granted it was a fairly fucked up one now - girl meets monster and falls madly in love after a lot of denials, monster is killed in her arms. Girl goes back in time and lives in a cave in a monster infested sunshine-less to free monster and his brother, causing a marking on him that compelled the monster to do her biding. Girl gets locked up in an underground iron bunker where monster cannot save her from her captors who love her too. If it was made into a movie, Jo would call it a Twilight Wannabe and opt for Beautiful Creatures out of that genre but she couldn't really do that with real life.

"Joeygirl, you know as well as I that you agree with what we're doing."

"Just cause I agree doesn't mean I don't want my freedom!"

"From what I hear, your being allowed your own choices when it comes to it is to allow that perversion to continue."

"Not... Intentionally. " Jo felt the words roll off her tongue and knee that the other would pick them up as the omission they really were. That while she might have not intended for things to end up as they did on the previous year, that there was absolutely no way that her taking the iron from the door was not going to end with the pair of them as they did. "I mean, I just wanted to give him a birthday present."

"Uh huh, sure thing. And that couldn't have been done with the iron separating you, why?"

He had her there. She could have just handed the sketchpad over and said what she felt needed to be said - that she loved him and missed him and wished they could go back and never go after those god forsaken wendigos together - but that would have been cruel and painful with the metal barrier between them. But saying them without was always going to end up the way it did.

“Oh stop being so right, goddamn it.” Jo snapped back, crossing her arms as well as her legs as she slumped down childishly on the rickety cot that had been her bed for nights upon nights. “God it’s like you’ve decided I’m on a prison sentence in this place.”

“I got you that fruity little toy last month-”

“Yeah cause not gettin’ me a Christmas present would have been completely inhumane on top of this all.”

There was another sigh from the older hunter as he shifted on the armchair he was resting in. The door was open for once and Jo could feel the fresh yet musty air coming in from the basement - not so much fresh nor any different to the clean and replenished air of the panic room, but just different smells to that of iron, drying salt and the scent of burnt crumbs from the bottom of her little pink oven in the last month - but Bobby had positioned himself between her seat on her bed and the door itself.

“Look, Jo, I get this is hard on you-”

“It’s like the Roadhouse and Mom all over again!”

“-hard on you, but you care about your... guy right?”

“Of course.”

“So, you need to be strong enough to stand all this. I can’t pretend to understand what’s gone and happened to you these last two years since you dropped that dog off year before last-”

Jo felt a shudder run through herself remembering how that had been the last time she saw the older hunter - her hair still matted and coated on the ends with the dried blood of her lover, her hands scrubbed but not clean and the haunted look that had been etched on every single inch of her face as she asked him to “look after her” as she handed him the leash for her baby and was gone within minutes - before her arrival still covered in mud and muck from Purgatory with two blood covered arms but what she was sure was an almost deranged grin on her face. She had been in touch, she’d talked frequently and kept the hunter updated as needed before she’d gone back, and had done much the same once she was back - but she had not stopped by to see him to assuage any of his fears.

“-but you seemed to be doing okay for a while there before y’all realised what foolishness you’d gone and done.”

“You’ve been talkin’ to Shada, haven’t you?” Jo’s words were a question, but they sounded more like a statement of fact in the air between them.

The other hunter took his baseball cap off with one hand and ran the other over his hair underneath and then stroked through his beard, clearly uncomfortable with how easily Jo could pick up the unexpected development between hunter and monster. “She’s a good source of information. Especially about how to scare that boy off when he shows up.”

“So that’s why you’ve not let me wander the house, huh?”

“Girlie, he’s here at least once a day.” Bobby’s voice sounded pained in some way, as if the stress wasn’t just from her own end and dealing with her own actions. That he was dealing with Grey’s appearances and whatever that shadow could throw at him made her clench her jaw and swear to herself that she would try to be less painful for the older man.

“I’d say this whole... stain thing is a horrifying experience on his end, but I remember him just appearin’ over your getting nibbled on. Pretty sure you’ve been stained and coated all over him from then, even if you both deny it.”

—

Day 398

The first thing she noticed that morning was shouts outside of the door to her room. That was unusual enough as it was, very rarely did anyone come downstairs to talk unless to talk to her, let alone get into all out screaming matches that made her remember her and her mother’s old ones when she was younger.

The second thing she noticed was that the panic room door was shut completely when she’d had it open slightly to let in a breeze overnight when she went to sleep. Getting out of the bed and tugging the hoodie down over her bare legs, Jo moved to check the door and felt a flood of panic realising it had been locked from the outside. Someone had locked her in there for the first time in months.

The third thing she noticed was exactly the context of the shouts and who’s voice it was.

“It’s her fucking birthday! I am not leaving until I’ve seen her.”

“Brother, don’t you dare take that tone with me! I’ve spent so long trying to help you-”

“Help me? Help me?! You have done nothing but ruin everything, Shada, now let me see her!”

“No! Not after last time!”

Jo frowned slightly as she tugged at the door handle, as if she pulled it enough that it might be able to dislodge and open the heavy door with just her sheer force of will. She thought over the words, frown deepening as she realised that she’d lost track of time again. She’d lost track of the day, and when did it become April after all, and had forgotten that she had her birthday coming up any time soon. She had hoped she’d be home by then - pushing the date back further and further mentally to give them more time, more time to be together for her birthday, to be home for it not trapped in some iron, salt prison cell.

Shaking her head, she could hear the screaming was continuing but she could understand none of it from then on either due to language or context, she couldn’t understand what they were flinging at one another other than it was designed to hurt. It was in that horrible language that grated on her ears and hurt to listen to for too long. Occasionally there would be a jab in English - about how fucked up the situation was, about that foul demon, about how long she thought she could control others to ignore her own failings, about not being able to trust one another any more. About sacrifices that were made for one another. About being left behind in Purgatory. About foolish humans ruining everything. At least on that point she agreed.

She gave the door a sharp slam with her fist as the screaming continued - surprised when suddenly both voices stopped and Jo could almost feel him with how close he was now. She knew she couldn’t really, but it felt nice to pretend. Sometimes pretending was the only way to get through a day.

Slamming the door again one more time, Jo let out an exhausted laugh before she moved back over to her cot and pulled the thick dark blue comforter that the girl had brought her last week over her head. Maybe now the yelling had stopped she could fall back to sleep and sleep away the day instead of acknowledging that she was another year older and spending the day trapped in her buried tower.

She didn’t wake up until the room was practically in pitch black, what little light filtered from outside already gone. As she sat up and spotted a tray with a plate of sandwiches sat out on her desk to await her, Jo thought perhaps she had slept the whole day through and could pretend it never happened. Right up until she’d lifted the plate and noticed the leather bound sketchbook she had gifted six months earlier when she’d last seen him.

The rest of her night had been spent flicking through the pages, water marks forming on each and every page as she turned them, tears splattering and stretching out a line here or a shading patch there of the hundreds of small sketches - sketches of various flowers or landscapes, of the city skyline of their home town, sketches of their baby in the sun or playing or napping, sketches of the demonic wolf prowling or glaring or snarling, sketches that seemed to be self-studies of his new eyes, his new profile, his new hair texture, his new smile, his new tears.

And then there were the sketches from memory tucked everywhere, every corner of each page was filled with something she recognised - her face, her eyes, her hair, her pack, her legs, her necklace and her scars, her necklace, her smile, her frown. Every page was drenched in her and in some places covered over and over and over, as if obsessively, irrationally, uncontrollably needed to be released from his mind. As if putting it on paper would take the images from his mind and let him heal any quicker.

As if putting it on paper would hurt any less for the both of them.

—

Day 14-22

The oven was beeping the timer behind them that the cupcakes would be ready and probably starting to get overly brown on top. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear it and the little voice complaining that they’d be too dried out if they stayed in much longer, but that was shut down immediately with a breathy moan as their hips shifted together tightly. Her hands held tight to the edge of the counter top as his mouth sucked harshly on the pulse point of her neck and they both groaned together. By the time they were done, the cupcakes would be black on top and thrown straight into the bin without any sort of regret.

Showers were still the most amazing feeling for her after so long without one, and Jo had found herself spending upwards of thirty minutes basking under the hot streams of water each day without even considering it strange. Somehow after nine straight days of indulgence since finally getting home it had still not gotten old for her, and she could still find dirt under her nails or a piece of her hair she felt hadn’t fully returned to it’s golden shine. While alone she could enjoy the water pressure and cleansing feeling, as she felt his hands running through her hair and chest against her back - somehow hotter than the water itself or maybe that was just the flush - Jo knew that she’d be in it for an extra long time that day.

The scent of bacon coming up from downstairs woke her up first, and Jo shifted about with an audible crack to her back while she scrubbed at the sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes. As she moved to throw the comforter back, she jumped in surprise hearing the command of “No, Jo, stay in bed.” Her eyes had blown wide in surprise and pleasure as she watched Grey walk carefully into the room, a tray held precariously between both hands as Nana weaved around his legs, before it was rested across her lap with a kiss to the forehead. She nearly cried at the sight of bacon, eggs, pancakes and syrup, coffee and juice, and the single peony rested across the top of the tray as he reached about to pile pillows behind her back with a gentle smile.

Jo was exhausted and ready to collapse, even needing a supportive arm around her waist as they made their way up the stairs. She had lost count before lunch the number of times she’d gotten off, and lost track of time by some point in the afternoon as a whole. It wasn’t even her birthday, as she’d said more than ten times throughout the day, but it had been two weeks since he’d been back according to him. And he intended to thank her for every single day at least once before her head touched the pillow that night. He’d definitely achieved that as it was, and rolling onto her back Jo had let out a tired laugh at the still lust filled eyes that looked down at her before her hands had grabbed his hair, pulling him down to her yet again.

“Oh what a good girl, yes you are!” Her voice rang across the yard as she fished the drool covered ball out of the dog’s grip before throwing it again across the lawn, letting out a loud “Fetch, girl!” There was a laugh from behind her as she made a disgusted look at the sticky drool still on her hand. “Jo, you knew what’d happen when you came out to play with her-” “Doesn’t mean I enjoy it!” She laughed along with him then as she wiped her hand off on her jeans and lent back into his arms, her clean hand not used for throwing covering the both of his where they were pressed over her stomach as they watched the fluffy dog root about under the bushes in the back corner for the bright green ball. She didn’t need to look to know he had the same smile on his face as hers.

Jo smiled to herself as he twisted under her, a hand pinning his wrists to his sides gently, the whispered remark to stay still more keeping them down than any force of her own as she released them and moved to unbutton his shirt, his hands not moving one inch once they were free. “You know what this is, hun.” “Yes, yes I know what.” “On the headboard this time though.” That got a groan in response as his hands moved to grip the top of the headboard tightly as she moved her way along his body. The lack of marks and scars she knew but replaced with taunt, clear skin was almost unfair but Jo smirked as she made her own marks wherever caught her attention as she made her way down his chest and stomach. At a gentle brush of lips to his sharp hip bone, Jo let out a laugh at the ticklish response, eyes crinkling as she caught his look of frustration. “Oh fuck, you’re never going to stop now are you?” “Now that you’re ticklish? Never.” Sucking sharply on the spot again, Jo trailed across the jut of it before getting back to her real mission for the night with a smirk.

She’d complained for the last three days about a sore muscle in her back that wasn’t leaving and wasn’t surprised he’d decided to take it upon himself to resolve the issue. “C’mon I don’t like them, they’re boring.” “Jo, a good soaking is what it needs though-” “But it’s boring sitting in there alone.” There was a heavy sigh from him, and the bemused look on his face made her grin cheekily as he tugged her closer. Slipping his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulling upwards, Grey smiled before saying, “Fine, I’ll sit in here and we’ll talk okay?” “You goin’ to sit in with me?” That got a growl in response and then a sharp shake of his head, rubbing his hand carefully over the sore muscle in question. “No, cause then we’d just hurt it more wouldn’t we? Instead, I’ll sit down next to you and we’ll talk about when we’re going to go see the next Star Wars movie, alright?” Jo had nodded in agreement, smiling as she sank into the water a minute later and noticed the faint smell of her favourite vanilla shampoo and bath wash already in the water.

“Shh, pretty one, just stay relaxed, okay?” “Mmkay.” His voice was so rough and sent shock-waves through her the same as the previous one had, goosepimples breaking out along her skin waking her up slowly as the sun was only just breaking through the edge of the curtains. “Good, you deserve to relax and enjoy your beauty rest. My beautiful, pretty Jo.” She made a quiet, tired sounding groan in response as she relaxed back into the pillow nest she had made at some point during the night, eyes shutting and his warm hands rubbing over her skin lulling her back towards sleep. Next minute, Jo knew she would not be falling back to sleep as his tongue flicked across her and she writhed under his hands and mouth. There was a sound of birds waking up outside but inside all there was were her gasps and the dark, dangerous sound of his laughter as he worked her awake for the day.

“I’ve got the popcorn!” Jo called out loudly as she balanced the large bowl precariously on top of the two soda cans and made her way carefully back towards the lounge. “Fuck! Did you get a big enough bowl there, Jo?” Grey asked, laughing a little as she could feel his eyes on her as she shimmied her way carefully and blindly around the couch towards the coffee table. He grabbed the bowl off the top of the cans with another laugh before setting it down and tugging her towards the couch. “Well, you know how much I love popcorn with a popcorn flick!” “True, you do love your movie snacks and this one is what… three hours long?” Jo nodded her head, sinking into his lap and cuddling up against him between the arm rest and his firm body. “Yep. I didn’t get to see it yet either-” “Well good we both don’t know how they fix the snap then. Now, you comfortable?” She smiled, tucking her head into his neck with a soft sigh as they settled in for the movie, a rush of contentment flooding her at being home again finally.

–

Day -1

“Alrighty, so from my calculation he should be here in the next thirty minutes or so.” Jo said, huffing quietly from the log she was sitting on, eyes fixated on the open field she’d been waiting at almost four months earlier. The whites around her irises were all that was visible again, her charcoal and mud smeared face and hair almost as dark as the shadow-covered trees and bushes surrounding her. “And then from here it’s about a three hour hike northward.”

“And then we can go home instead of continuing on your foolish, stupid plans, right?” The words were hissed, forced above a whispered volume level in a way that none of the other shadows despite years around her had quite achieved in the natural form yet, from the grey-colored shadow of a man’s shape sitting beside her.

There were some hisses from around them, a general buzz of her shadow troupe communicating in the language she had never quite learnt. Some seemed to be in agreement with the shadow beside her; while others appeared to snip in close near him, hissing angrily and snapping jaws of the shapes they were pulled into at that point. Jo watched as Grey jerked slightly in his position away from the more aggressive young shadows who then began swirling around her end of the log with supportive calls.

“Ignore big brother, sister-” “Yes, yes, yes, ignore him. He is just angry you are so smart.” “Grey is just impatient to go home! Earth is so wonderful, isn’t it sister? I wish I could go!”

“Fucking Purgatory, Jo, can you stop corrupting my siblings against me?” The words would have sounded like a snarl if she didn’t know better to hear the slight sound of amusement underneath it all. While Grey had been snappy, snippy and sometimes downright mean as they’d waited the arrival of the other in the months since he’d arrived back - as the days had grown closer and closer to their leaving date, he had gotten less sharp and nasty and had started teasing her more again.

“Sorry hun, Shelda and Ellis just prefer me over you, clearly!”

There was a werewolf, three vampires and two shifters that appeared to come through the dumping ground before there was suddenly a black shadow spat out onto the ground in the centre of the clearing. Jo bit down a smile behind her cloth bandanna as she stood up and made her way into the clearing to a strong sense of deja vu.

“So, how were those violent delights?” Jo called loudly as she broke through the dark woods gloom and out into the clearing into the bright not quite sunlight. She didn’t hide the smile this time at the way the shadow seemed to jerk about in surprise and snarled loudly towards her until she pulled the bandanna down to her throat. “Pretty violent end that was, wasn’t it?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“She’s here to save our asses, dickhead.” The grey shadow beat her to responding, and Jo found herself smiling as she noticed the shape of a snake slithering through the dried grass beside her while the other appeared to swing it’s attention between her and the form by her feet. “Now, say thank you Jo, and we can get on our way back out of this forsaken place.”

“Here to… why are you still here though? You’ve been dead for months, runt, why is she still here?” “To save you too, dick. For no clear reason but stupid human sentimentality. Now… say thank you.”

Jo shook her head as she stepped forward, pulling the bandanna back up over her mouth and cheeks as a rugaru was spat out six feet from them and seemed to stare her over hungrily. “Sic ‘em.” She hissed out the words as the female rugaru appeared to lurch towards her, before the creature was swarmed by five small black shadows, feasting and draining it dry before it had made more than two steps towards her.

Smiling under the cover of the black fabric, Jo looked back where the grey snake and what now looked to be an equally grey elongated and terrifying humanoid shape appeared to be facing off. The size differences might have seemed heavily lent towards one over the other, but the blonde found herself merely shaking her head and stalking off northward through the middle of them well aware that sizes and looks could be deceiving. “I don’t need any thanks, let’s just get going towards the exit before anything else comes through, aye?”

She didn’t bother to look behind her, but by the time she was breaking through the dense undergrowth of the other side of the clearing’s edge, she could hear both voices snipping and snarling at one another as they began the trek towards the exit. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the hulking form to her right as well as the dense black shadowy movement she recognised as her swarm under foot, while to her left was the typically human shape Grey had usually taken for her comfort since they’d been reunited.

It would be a long walk, but Jo had been prepared for decades for this journey and knew she’d spend the entire walk ignoring the nasty battle of wills happening behind her back while she spent the trip mumbling the spell requirements and words under her breath. They had the one shot left at this, and Jo would not be the one to cause a failure now.

–

Day 531

There was some kind ruckus upstairs from the thudding noises happening. Jo’d been able to tell when Sam and Dean were around as they tended to park near where the air vent was so she could hear the roar of the engine, but she hadn’t heard that this morning. Whoever it was, it might be someone who didn’t know about her and her situation, so instead of moving to investigate since Bobby had begun leaving the door open more and more and encouraging her to get out and move about the house more freely than before, Jo laid back down on her cot with a battered copy of Pride & Prejudice she’d found in some cupboard upstairs.

Lizzie had just derided Mr. Darcy for asking for her hand in such a deplorable mode of declaration when the door to the basement was flung open with a loud crash and Jo jerked upright, staring out the door of her room as she tried to see who was making such a fuss.

The next second, her book was dropped onto her bed and her feet were driving her down the stretch to the foot of the stairs before her mind had even caught up with her eyes as to who it was standing at the bottom looking about curiously.

She hit into him hard, her feet not having caught the message to slow down on the approach just barrelling forward as quickly as possible in case someone tried to take her away again and this was all the time she would get. Jo heard a small grunt of pain from the other as she practically bounced off of him, kept grounded against him only by her arms around his waist and then his own wrapping around her back and pressing her close. Jo found herself sniffing loudly as she burrowed against his chest. He smelt like home.

“Hey you.” She felt herself shuddering as he spoke into her hair, his fingers wrapping through the tail ends of her rats nest of hair gently, as if trying to de-tangle what she was sure was going to take another two weeks of continuous work to get back to her normal style, just as it had when they’d gotten home before. Getting home.

Jo knew she’d had water recently, she’d just been having a sip while she’d been reading after all, but suddenly her throat felt drier than it had in ages and she felt herself struggling with what to say other than to bury deeper into him, her cheek pressed tightly to the soft fabric of his tshirt and hands digging into his back tightly. “Grey... Are... Are you okay?”

“Of course, of course I’m okay.” He murmured the words into her ear gently, and Jo could feel him rubbing over her back for a moment before they tangled to either side of her face. “I’m all good again, I promise.”

“Yeah?”

Grey’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at her, and he lent forward, his forehead pressed against hers and Jo practically sagged into him as his eyes stared into hers reassuringly. His thumbs moved to stroke across her cheeks, the gentle brush making her shudder and smile gently as they brushed away the first few tears she didn’t even realise had fallen. And then he kissed her and everything felt right for her again. His lips, his hands, his scent... it all felt like she was finally home again.

---

#AU stories #jopov #purgverse

[violetsmoak]

maybe this is how it starts [1/?]

Cover & Disclaimer

Warning: In case it hasn’t been made clear, Dick Grayson is currently “dead” (since this takes place during some of the Spyral arc)

AN: I had way too much fun writing this. Dialogue is my happy place. 

Maybe this is how it starts: with Jason lugging a bleeding and unconscious Red Robin up a rickety fire-escape, swearing every time the kid’s stupid fucking cape gets stuck on a metal edge.

Ivy’s latest creations—some kind of Venus Flytrap-vampire hybrids—have done a number on the guy. When Jason found him, his erstwhile replacement was suspended by a network of razor toothed vines doing their best to burrow through his suit’s Kevlar. Judging by the puddle of blood below him, they were pretty damn well succeeding.  

As luck would have it, plants and vampires have the same aversion to fire. A brief stint of arson later (and a few gashes of his own to show for it), and Jason had Tim hoisted over his shoulder and Ivy knocked out. After a moment debating it, he’d grappled toward his nearest bolthole, the police sirens wailing in his wake.

It’s pure coincidence he found him. Jason’s only just gotten back to the city, taking a short break from intergalactic outlawing. As far as he knows, Tim’s been zipping around the world playing chicken with a bunch of ninjas and an irritating reporter. Not that they interact much beyond the occasional text or major crisis in Gotham under normal circumstances, of course. But Bruce’s demon spawn’s been back from the dead for two weeks now, and everyone’s been sticking closer to the home front since then.  

Not too close though.

Jason’s still twitchy about spending long stretches of time at the manor. Since the demon brat’s resurrection gave him a bunch of friggen superpowers, Jason’s erred on the side of self-preservation. It’s not as fun teasing a ten-year-old when said ankle-biter can lift a car and crush the life out of you with it.

He’s pretty sure Tim has been steering clear of the manor for that same reason. And avoiding any parts of Gotham where Batman and Robin might be patrolling. Because of course Bruce is crazy enough to take a twerp with a hair-trigger temper on patrol.

Like it doesn’t matter he has the means of caving someone’s head in with a flick of his finger.

It’s why Jason took a detour near Robinson Park tonight (he avoids thinking about the fact it was part of Dick’s usual patrol route). It’s also why he happened to stumble upon Ivy about to turn Tim into plant food.

And really, Ivy? Vampire plants? How bored were you?

This safehouse is one of his smaller ones, the top floor of a three-story walk-up listed as unsafe and condemned for demolition. Jason’s been paying city officials off to ignore it for as long as he needs it; it’s not the fanciest or most upgraded spot, but it’s got running water and it came with the furniture. That’s about all he cares about when he’s tired and when someone unsavory comes looking for him in his usual digs.

This neighborhood is also in the anti-social and distrustful part of the Upper East Side where no questions someone in a scarlet helmet carrying what looks like a dead body up a fire-escape. Especially someone stumbling around and making as much noise as Jason is.

Vines must have been poisonous, too. No wonder the kid’s out cold, I feel like I was hit by a truck. And my arms going numb where they got me.

The door’s easy enough to get open, even one-handed, but he must stoop and contort to get himself and Tim inside considering all their armor. Blood smears across the handle and he makes a mental note to scrub everything down with bleach tomorrow.

Tim makes a discontent sound when his head knocks against the archway,

“Oh, yeah, like you felt that,” Jason mutters, kicking the door closed behind him and heading through the kitchen and down the narrow hall toward the living room and bedroom.

He bypasses the couch because stains are a bitch to get out of that upholstery and he doesn’t want the whole place smelling like stale blood forever after this. Bedsheets are easier to toss. There’s already a rubber sheet on the mattress here, legacy of several incidents where he’s shredded his stitches or didn’t bother changing after a particularly brutal fight.

“You’d better not have this thing fucking armed,” Jason tells Tim after he tugs off the cape and cowl and reaches for the tricked-out bandolier. “I mean it. If I get electrocuted, I’m letting you bleed out.”

“Awesome…bedside manner,” Tim mumbles. “Ten out of ten…would recommend.”

“Dick.”

“No…Dick’s dead…I’m Tim.”

Jason groans. “That was pitiful. Like, me levels of bad. How much blood have you lost?”

Nothing but a pained wheeze in response, and Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to strip the kid down to his underwear with rough efficiency.

Though Tim’s arms and legs are peppered with bruises and a few tiny gouges leaking blood, those injuries are superficial for the most part. It’s only the one gaping hole in his right side where one of the vines pierced through the armor; it hit nothing vital, but it’s bleeding like a son of a bitch.

Jason heads to the bathroom to grab the med kit (which is stocked better than most hospital supply closets) and injects them both with something to counteract the poison. It’s a broad-spectrum antitoxin, geared specifically toward Poison-Ivy related emergencies (and he really hopes she hasn’t gotten more creative than the whole vampire-plant hybrid thing) and sets to work stitching the rent flesh and muscle in Tim’s side back together. He takes longer than normal because his vision is blurring, and his fingers trembling.

Side-effect of the antitoxin.

Tim’s already passed out again, his chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm that assures Jason the kid’s not about to seize up and die. Still, he maneuvers him roughly into a recovery position and sticks a bucket beside the bed. It’s not unheard of for Ivy’s poisons to cause projectile vomiting.

“Don’t say I never do anything nice for you,” he grumbles, and takes the time to check for injuries of his own. The room sways, his eyes drooping, and he decides if he hasn’t bled out now, there can’t be anything too pressing.

Jason barely shrugs out of the bulkiest bits of his armor before plummeting face-first onto the bed beside Tim.

Horizontal is good; he likes being horizontal.

He doesn’t intend to stay there. Not being the same bloody mess as Tim, he’s okay with crashing on his couch because it’s an amazing couch. He might actually sleep better on it than the bed.

Except, sleep is a goddamn glorious temptress and sounds so much better than willing himself to trudge back across the apartment.

“You’d better not snore,” he tells Tim’s back, before pressing his face into the pillow and letting beautiful unconsciousness swim up around him.

֍

There’s no transition from being asleep to being awake. One minute, Tim is swimming in the dreamless black of total oblivion, and the next he is staring up at an unfamiliar cracked ceiling.

His mouth has the rancid metallic taste it always gets when he’s been dosed with something—sedative or antitoxin, maybe—and there’s a body beside him. It’s a fact that should concern him—he’s woken next to unconscious or dead bodies more than he’d like to admit—but the unhurried, easy breathing suggests it is voluntary unconsciousness. Scent returns next, the air damp and cool, with a hint of mold mixing with odors of cordite, gun polish, drying blood and cigarette smoke.

Familiar cigarette smoke.

Jason, he decides, not even having to glance to his side to confirm his deduction.

Memories of the night before return, along with the itchy sting of new stitches in his skin and what appears to be a hundred paper cuts across the rest of his body. He can feel that especially well, since he has no clothing other than his underwear and the air is aggravating the broken skin.

This had better not be another Paris situation.

He’s not sure why that’s his first thought, because obviously he had to lose his uniform to be treated, but he doesn’t like the idea of being manhandled while mostly-naked. Not that there’s anything to worry about from Jason. Even if he wasn’t an ally-maybe-friend-not-quite-brother most of the time, the Red Hood has a very well-known attitude towards untoward behavior and minors.

Still going to check his phone for any blackmail material, though.

It’s what Dick would do in this situation.

Would have done.

Tim swallows the painful lump in his throat.

He continues to stare up at the ceiling for another few seconds, choosing to collect his thoughts rather than dwell on unpleasant realities. It’s easy to put together the chain of events from when he passed out in Ivy’s clutches to waking up in what is clearly a safehouse. It’s happened to all of them at some point, so there’s no associated panic. He is, however, curious about one thing that’s different from usual.

“Jason.”

The flatness of his tone marred by sleep, makes him sound groggier and less aware than he would like.

There is no response. He knows the older man is awake now though; it’s a universal talent of the Bat-trained, being able to rouse from a deep sleep to peak awareness at the drop of a hat.

“Jason,” he repeats, a little louder, still studying the cracks in the plaster that spread and merge with a spot of water-damage.

“Mmf…ckff…”

The words are muffled by a pillow, but understandable. He’s awake enough to formulate a response. Good, on to the next bit.

“Why am I in bed with you?”

And is there any way to make that question not sound disturbing?

“…No blood on the couch…” is the grumbled, surprisingly coherent response. “S’my favorite couch…”

Which makes a Jason-like amount of sense, even if it doesn’t outright answer what Tim is asking. He decides the conversation isn’t worth the trouble of dragging it out of the other man, mostly because he’s pretty sure a half-asleep Red Hood is just as hard to interrogate as an awake and alert Red Hood. Maybe harder, given the propensity for slurring his words.

And so, Tim eases himself gingerly upward into a sitting position, hissing when the movement tugs on the skin around the wound in his side. He examines it with a frown, noting that it’s far too close to his right kidney for his liking; he’ll have to take a break from patrol for the next few days to let it heal, and to make sure it doesn’t get infected.

Though, it won’t be due to subpar first aid, he allows, considering the neat row of stitches holding the still angry red wound closed. “At least your sewing has improved.”

“Screw you, my sewing’s awesome.” This time Jason definitely sounds more awake, and there’s a shift of the bed. “Martha Stewart’s got nothing on me. You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

Tim glances over at the other man, taking in his somewhat bloody appearance. He’s in a sweat-stained t-shirt, and there are a few slashes in his arms that are scabbing over; probably from the vines. He hasn’t shaved in a long while, and he’s got a bad case of helmet head—the red roots are coming out again. Coupled with the bloodshot eyes, he looks like someone who just got off a bender.

“You look like crap,” Tim tells him bluntly.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Aw, thanks Timbers. And you’re welcome, by the way. You know, for the whole saving your life thing.”

Tim grits his teeth, knowing the slightly mocking tone is meant to get a rise out of him. Jason is nothing if not excellent at pushing people’s buttons.

“Thank you,” he says. Annoyance about this whole situation aside, he is grateful. He thinks a year ago Jason might have left him to him die. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“You’d better. I almost left you to strangle on the fire escape in that ridiculous cape of yours. You know one day that’s going to get stuck in a jet-engine or something right?”

“Bruce is the one that tackles runaway jets, not me.”

Jason makes a dismissive gesture.

“So, how many times is that now?” he asks then, reaching for the shabby night table beside him and finagling open a drawer. He pulls out a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a zippo. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be waiving the family discount for my services. I mean, it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“What’s the point? You’ll have died of lung cancer before I have to make a payment.”

Jason makes a point of holding his gaze as he lights the cigarette between his lips, just to be contrary. Tim makes a face at the acrid waft of smoke that follows.

“And that’s my cue,” he sighs, swinging himself over the bed and promptly putting his foot down in a bright red garbage pail.

“Watch the bucket,” Jason tells him after the fact, mocking lilt in his voice.

Tim closes his eyes and silently counts to ten.

It could be worse. It could be Damian.

“Can you, for one second, not be a total jerk?” he asks conversationally, carefully stepping out of the bucket ad getting to his feet. “Where’s my suit?” Jason motions vaguely in the direction of the floor, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Thanks. That’s really helpful.”

“I aim to please.”

“Right.” Tim is the one to roll his eyes now. “At least tell me you have a coffeemaker in this place.”

He’s getting one of those headaches, and at least forty percent of it is not caused by Jason.

“That would be lying though and lying is wrong.” This is said with a shit-eating grin. “Your choices are Earl Grey or mineral water.”

Tim curls his lip. “You’re destroying the whole tough-guy image I have of you. What kind of vigilante doesn’t drink coffee?”

“The kind that likes having a sparkling white smile?”

“I don’t know if I can take you seriously anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I never took you seriously,” Jason retorts, flicking his cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “I’m taking you even less seriously since you’re standing there near-naked with rat’s nest hair and a hard-on.”

Which causes color to flood Tim’s cheeks and an unfortunate automatic flick of his eyes downward to see that, damn it, he’s right.

“Shut up!” he snaps, grabbing the nearest pillow to cover himself, and Jason guffaws. “It’s a normal biological reaction.”

“Still funny, though.”

Tim’s already stumbling from the bed in embarrassment, looking for the bathroom.

“Door on the right,” Jason calls after him, disgustingly amused. “Don’t get your stitches wet.” Just as Tim reaches it, he pitches his voice louder: “And if you need to rub one out in there, have the decency to rinse down the wall!”

Mortification hits Tim even harder than before.

“Fuck off Jason!”

He hears a roar of laughter from the bedroom.  

I take back what I said about Damian.

TBC

Next Chapter

#jaytim #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #red robin #jaytim fanfic #jaytim fic #fanfiction #batman fanfiction #pre-slash #eventual slash #hurt/comfort #friends to lovers #bromance to romance #witty repartee #snark #jason is a little shit #i live for sarcastic tim

[404botnotfound]

Hope

SERIES: Destiny WORD COUNT: 3,719 CHARACTERS: kel, @gildedskeleton​‘s Sloane, @tagyourjakku​‘s Vera, lord shaxx

rewrite of an older fic bc i’m apparently determined to give facelifts to all of my older stuff.

When she comes to, the first thing Sloane notices is a steady beeping.

Her eyes blink open slowly, blurry vision settling on machinery that takes her several long seconds to identify as medical in nature—assumably, it’s what’s making the beeping.

She wants the beeping to stop.

A groan leaves her. Every bit of her body and mind feels sluggish, her senses dulled and delayed like a heavy static has settled over her and is determined to keep her from who she is where she is why she’s here.

Medical equipment. A flat and uncomfortable hospital bed. Sterile white surroundings. That Sky-damned beeping.

She’s in the med-wing of the Tower. Was the obfuscation of her senses a result of drugs? It’s the only conclusion she can come to.

Even through the haze of whatever drugs are pumping through her veins she feels exhausted, tired for a reason she can’t fathom or can’t remember. Had there been an accident out in the field? Why couldn’t she remember? Where had she been before?

No answers are forthcoming, and she decides it’s in her best interests to just go with it and turns her head back onto the pillow. Her eyes slide shut.

For whatever reason, the idea of falling asleep again just scares her. Why?

Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, her brain supplies her images—all the nightmares of past days-weeks-months, the whispering hiding in the dark corners of her mind and thoughts, the fear the panic.

She see Shaxx and Vera’s worried faces.

She hears a gunshot.

Her eyes snap open, the exhaustion not so much vanishing as pushed away in favor of anxiety. Of fear. Why is she so afraid? Gunshots were an everyday occurence for guardians. Their entire existence revolved around gunfire and fighting and danger.

Why am I so afraid?

The gunshot echoes between her ears, and with the numbing haze of the drags washing away with sudden clarity Sloane can feel the soreness in her back, the ache in her neck. Something has happened, they weren’t just everyday aches and pains. Something something…

What?

There’s no visual accompanying the sound in her head, nothing to tell her why it’s there or what it’s supposed to mean or why the hell it scares her so much.

Swallowing the stone that had settled in her throat Sloane presses her eyes shut and wills the anxiety wriggling in her stomach to vanish, to go away—begs the whispering in the back of her head to leave because she doesn’t want it and she’s tired of dealing with it.

Something had happened. Did it have something to do with those whispers?

Her senses return to her agonizingly slow and when they do she realizes, with no small amount of bittersweet amusement, that a light-binding cuff is keeping her restrained to the rail on the side of the bed.

There was another clue that made the wriggling in her stomach intensify; something had happened, the whispers were back, and someone didn’t trust her to be moving freely. Whatever it was that had landed her here, it hadn’t been good.

Everything she’s been struggling with, of late, made the words ‘it hadn’t been good’ fall so woefully short.

Her thoughts drift into anxious emptiness, the static clearing for just long enough—

—someone is in the room with her.

Eyes snapping open she jolts upright on the cot and drags her eyes around, taking in everything she can and not seeing a damn thing that could be causing the hair-raising feeling of being watched.

What now? Hallucinations instead of just voices? Phantoms that accompany the whispers? Ones that plague her presence and tell her to attack the people she cares about? To bleed them of their light and leave them dark and empty?

Her body is wrought with an animal fear that has her tense to the point of painful.

No one is in the room. Someone is, but no one is.

Swallowing again, she looks around one more time with slower and more careful eyes—and then she catches sight of white hair at the foot of her bed. Her throat restricts in panic and horror.

A little girl. Her little girl. The same white hair and the same light blue skin, coruscating with light and her eyes dark and curious. There’s nothing but pure innocence in her gaze, but even if Sloane didn’t know acutely why her little girl shouldn’t be here she can feel the crawling over her skin intensify under Stella’s stare.

“Ignore it.” A man’s voice says out of thin air. Sloane nearly screams at it, her heart leaping into her throat and gaze once again whipping around the room; this time she catches sight of the slight shimmer in the air that’s settled in the darkest corner of the stark white room. “It’s what I do.”

Out of the shimmer materializes the form of a hunter that had been completely immobile and silent, hidden by one of the light-given abilities of his class.

He’s tall, athletically built, and wearing dark clothes underneath burnished armor that’s equally as dark. Greaves, gauntlets, a chest plate—light and functional and typical of hunters. The pieces of armor have accents of forest green and are covered in scorch marks and scratches, remnants of dents that couldn’t be completely hammered out. Even the cloak he wore, pitch black with a thin edge of venom-green along the edge of the hood, is ripped and tattered where it brushes booted ankles.

Visual tales of hard-fought battles and fights to survive, ones that he came out of alive but maybe not unscathed.

This was a hunter that’s been alive for a very long time.

The helmet he wears is stark black and featureless. He doesn’t remove it.

Most guardians would remove their helmets to speak to one another while in secure zones, whether it be for polite courtesy or just a desire to be more emotive. At first Sloane thinks that he isn’t doing so because he doesn’t feel she’s safe to be around, but something in her gut tells her that it’s just the way this hunter is.

She stares at the impartial and empty visor, trying to get some kind of read on the man from body language or anything, but he’s offering nothing outwardly. Not so much as a twitch of a finger.

Something draws her eyes down, and when they light on the handgun strapped to his thigh she wonders how she missed it the first time. It’s ichor-black, the frame jagged like teeth or thorns, and all along the barrel it pulses with sickly green light.

She must be imagining the way it almost seems—hungry. It’s just a gun. Whatever issues she’s dealing with, it has to be her imagination.

“You see her too?” She finally asks after a length, her tongue leaden within her mouth.

His head turns towards the foot of her bed and she follows his gaze.

Her little girl is gone.

Great, so she is seeing phantoms on top of everything else. Weakly hysterical laughter bubbles in her throat but she swallows it down.

“It looked like a ‘her’ to you?” He asks, and she blinks back over at him, confused.

“I thought you implied you could see her, too?”

His arms fold over his chest at the question but his head doesn’t turn back towards her, almost like he’s waiting for her to show up again. He doesn’t seem to have any desire to step closer to her while they speak. “I saw a shadow. That ghost is yours, not mine. Suppose being able to see it despite that is a...gift.”

She shivers in response, only managing to push away the fear by latching onto a piece of his answer. “You see ghosts?”

“Have for hundreds of years.” He answers, finally returning his focus back to her. She’s not sure if it’s an improvement. “Little girl. Blonde hair, bright smile, frilly pink dress. Never talked until recently. Quiet whispers.”

He’s staring at her, and the completely empty aura he’s putting off is making her skin crawl just as much as her little girl’s presence had—no, wait. It’s not empty, it’s just...cold. Carefully impassive.

Eager for something to keep her from the subject of whispers and ghosts, Sloane allows her curiosity to take over and she studies the hunter a bit more carefully.

He’s completely still where he stands, almost to the point where it’s difficult to discern if he’s even breathing. Every movement he’s made up to this point from the simple turns of his head to the slow but deliberate shift as he crossed his arms, it all spoke of absolute control to her. Like he’s pouring every ounce of his focus into restraining his entire being from everything around him.

Like he’s trying to be a blank slate, an empty husk. Unapproachable. Unnerving.

She wonders why.

“She was yours?” Sloane asks finally, not sure if she should. Her eyes flick back over to the end of the bed with discomfort, knowing that she’s certainly not comfortable with her own painful reminder.

His response is delayed and heavy. “Long time ago. Does yours whisper to you?”

Her breathing catches at the question and her eyes widen slightly. It’s a bad time for the whispering that had been nothing but a quiet haze at the back of her mind to crescendo into a dull roar, but she can’t control when and where the voices decide to coerce her with dark urges.

It can’t be her little girl that had been tormenting her with all these black thoughts recently. Not only was she—gone, not only that, but it wasn’t possible.

She’s not fine, and she knows that the blackness that had been pooling between her ears ever since that accident with SIVA wasn’t normal. Was she going insane? Had she dug just the slightest bit too deep, just like Toland the Shattered had once?

Was she going to be kept from Shaxx and Vera, exiled from the City for being corrupted?

Terror grips at her heart and she opens her mouth to lie that she has no idea what he’s talking about.

“There’s a darkness clinging to you.” He says, cutting her off before the words can even leave her mouth. For the first time she can hear emotion in his voice; barely a ripple, almost imperceptible, but the concerned frustration is enough to break through his impassivity. “I can feel it.”

Her vision blurs with panic that threatens to choke and overwhelm her and she drops her gaze to the sheets her hands are fisted in. She’s known it since they brought her out of the Plaguelands. SIVA had marked her to the point that not even Buddy could completely repair her.

The nightmares were evidence enough, but the fact that she’s stabbed herself and keeps having to resist her own impulses to harm the people she cares for—

“You nearly shot Ikora Rey.”

Shock jolts her out of the panic and her eyes snap back up to him. “What?”

“I heard Shaxx...talking about it.”

The way he hesitates before saying ‘talking’ has a trace of amusement to it; based on her own knowledge of the titan she knows that what he actually means is he had probably been arguing with someone about the event. Loudly.

The event which she...can’t…

The gunshot.

Oh, Sky help her.

Inhaling sharply Sloane lifts her hands and presses them into the sides of her skull, tries once again to will the cacophony of voices that aren’t hers to subside, to be quiet, to leave her alone. “I didn’t mean...I don’t—is she?”

“She’s fine.” His answer is quick and, she thinks, just the slightest bit gentle. For someone so consciously, tightly contained and controlled, it says a lot. “You lost control. People were there to intervene.”

The statement gives her no comfort. She had nearly shot a Vanguard member. She had attacked someone. A whimper of fear bubbles in her throat.

“For what it’s worth, you aren’t the first to lose control in the Vanguard’s presence. Eris Morn spoke on behalf of one other beside you. They know that wasn’t you.” His voice is even quieter and much more obviously warm.

But she catches the second meaning in his words, and when she opens her eyes she levels them on the hand cannon at his side, staring and wondering.

She looks him in what she hopes is the eye again, her hands shaking as she lowers them back to her lap. She knows this hunter, now that she thinks about it—doesn’t she? He was clearly a veteran, knows Shaxx well enough to find amusement in his typically toothless temper.

He couldn’t mean he was the other one, could he?

His head tilts to the side ever so slightly. Could he tell where her thoughts had gone? “You’ll regain their trust. You just have to learn to control it.”

“Control what?” She asks, her voice hoarse and strained; the throbbing in her skull makes it hard to think. “What is happening to me?”

The whispers are wild and overwhelming, greedy and grasping and leaving flashes of red and black sinew in the corners of her vision; they want her to find the nearest weapon and rend this hunter to shreds.

“The darkness you faced is digging its fingers into you, and it’s going to keep digging until it wins and you dance like a puppet on its strings. You need to find the strength to push back. To fight it.” He must have known that her question was more rhetorical than anything else, but the fact he has an answer for her all but confirms her earlier question.

He knows exactly what she’s going through. He understands it intimately, regardless of how it took shape for him. Whether it was the little girl he mentioned or some other outside force, perhaps a kind of madness he’d been reborn with.

She doesn’t know what this is and doesn’t know how to get rid of it, but she wants it gone. The phantoms, the whispers, the stifling haze of losing control, all of it. It has her backed into a corner without a way to fight back and without a way to escape.

However he had fought it back, she didn’t have it. How do you fight against something intangible, something within your own mind?

“Look at me.” He says, and she blinks as it brings her out of the panic that had begun to build again, her eyes refocusing on him. His words are firm and unyielding, almost as though he’s trying to project his own strength and control into her. “The darkness will make you think your light is gone. Like you’re trapped in the black and there’s no way out. It’ll use that fear if you let it.”

“And what if the light is gone?” She demands, her voice cracking and her eyes welling up.

The hunter takes a single step forward. “The light isn’t ever gone. It can be trapped, choked, diminished—but it’s always there. If you can’t find it in yourself, you let others lead you back to it.”

Her throat constricts with some unnameable emotion. She says nothing, the words not coming and all the questions she has jumbled and nonsensical.

“Hope is a hard thing to kill.” He says, voice quiet. “It can die, but only if you give up on it. Only if you let yourself believe it’s gone. And when you do, you’ll do things that’ll make you sick and ashamed. So you have to fight to keep hope from dying. You find it, you grab hold of it in whatever form it takes, and you don’t let go. Ever. Not even when it flickers.”

She swallows, wringing her hands together anxiously; he knows what this is. He knows, and he’s telling her how to fight it. Hope is a hard thing to kill. Even embers can start a roaring, sweeping fire.

Whatever black haze in her mind hisses at her or at him or at both of them, trying to grasp that knowledge and rip it away from her.

Find your hope. Grab it. Don’t let go.

So she does. “Does it go away?”

He’s silent for a long, heavy pause. “No.”

Her lips tremble at the answer. Find your hope. Find....find it. Don’t let go.

“You can’t let yourself stop fighting it. You know what it is now. Recognize when it’s trying to take control. Fight it like you’ve got nothing to lose. Fight it harder if you do have something to lose.”

With a shaky exhale Sloane lifts her hands and drags them down her face, and she fights. She reaches for every ounce of strength that tries to flee from her and she wills the angry hissing and whispers at the back of her mind away.

She thinks of Shaxx and Vera, of their smiles and laughter and her lips twitch into a smile at the memory of Shaxx once throwing her over his shoulder so he could run off while Vera chased.

The whispers are drowned out.

The hunter waits patiently, completely silent until she looks wearily over at him. No longer is his aura cold and dispassionate; he almost seems...satisfied. Proud. Is she imagining it?

He’s incredibly difficult to read.

“What’s your name?” She asks him.

Whether he was going to answer or not, the door to the room slides open with a sudden hiss and both her and the hunter’s attention move to the doorway. Through it steps Vera, followed shortly by Shaxx’s imposing form—

The titan goes rigid upon catching sight of the hunter, his fists clenching tightly at his sides; Sloane doesn’t need to see his face behind the flat visor of his horned helmet to know some kind of fury has overtaken him.

Vera notices it as well and stops next to Sloane’s bed, blinking first at Shaxx and then following his gaze to the hunter—who’s gone back to standing as still and as silent as the grave, the aura of aloof coldness returning.

She doesn’t know the hunter well enough to tell, but she knows stillness with Shaxx usually spoke of impending violence.

“Shaxx, it’s okay. He’s—”

“You’re not going to convince him I’m a friend.” The hunter cuts her off, and both her and Vera look at him. He doesn’t look away from Shaxx. Probably wise considering at the moment Shaxx looks about five seconds from attempting to liberate the hunter’s limbs from his body. “I was, once.”

“And you never will be again, Dredgen. You don’t belong here.” Shaxx says, electricity sparking around his arms. Sloane has never heard him this angry before.

“No, I don’t.” The hunter agrees, completely unbothered by whatever damning accusation Shaxx was leveling onto him. No, not unbothered. Just...accepting of it.

Wait—Dredgen? Why does she know that word? That name?

Dredgen Yor. She can feel herself pale at the cold realization, her wide eyes going back to the hunter and flickering once again to the black hand cannon he carried. Was he—could he be? The legendary Dredgen Yor hadn’t been seen in hundreds upon hundreds of years, and this hunter was old.

But if he was, why would he help her? She’s heard the stories, the whispers, seen the infinitesimally small words written in the margins of texts. Wasn’t the darkness his game? Why would he give her to tools to fight it, if he were one and the same?

He couldn’t be.

“You still hold that vile weapon, and you have the gall to step foot in the City?” Shaxx’s voice rises in volume.

Now the hunter just seems amused. “Believe it or not, old friend, I was invited.”

Shaxx advances on him with threat lining every tense muscle in his body. “Do you expect me to believe that one of our own would risk unleashing a guardian killer on the City? You are a monster corrupted by the very things we fight.”

Guardian killer. She sucks in a breath—hadn’t there been a true death, recently? One within a Crucible match, one that had left Shaxx furious for weeks? Is that what he was referring to?

“Do you call Eris a monster to her face?” The hunter asks pointedly, not so much as flinching at Shaxx’s attempt at intimidation. His arms drop to his sides and he nods over at Sloane, causing her to stiffen. “Are you going to call her that to her face?”

Shaxx’s imposing fury is doused by the question, confusion replacing it like a bucket tossed over a campfire.

All three of them watch as the hunter—still unconcerned with Shaxx’s threat—in that carefully controlled way of his moves for the door. He sidesteps the titan and as he passes leaves a bitter statement with him. “Darkness leaves its marks. All we can do is own our failures and mistakes and move forward. Whatever you think of me now, Shaxx, that’s all I’m trying to do.”

Shaxx’s fists clench and unclench at his sides again as he deliberates stopping the hunter on his way out. He doesn’t, his stance just shy of relaxed.

The hunter starts to turn down the hall but pauses in the threshold, turning back and looking at Sloane once more. “Find your light. Don’t let anything take it from you.”

And then he’s gone.

No one in the room speaks for a heavy length, but then both Shaxx and Vera turn curious and concerned gazes onto her—she’s still looking at the place where the hunter had vanished with a stomach twisting in anxiety.

Hope is a hard thing to kill.

Find your light.

Don’t let go.

Her light felt so far away. It felt nonexistent. She couldn’t see it anymore, and the black static in her mind is still there like a cancer, just waiting to infect her further.

Her eyes flicker between the two people that mean everything to her, and the ill feeling in her stomach eases.

Maybe it feels like it’s gone, but she holds onto his words. She had a reason to not give up hope, a reason to keep her light alive, a reason to fight.

And she was going to fight like hell.

#v: destiny #c: kel #ch: shaxx #o.c: sloane #o.c: vera

[avengers-nextgen]

Prometheus I

Enzo was waiting excitedly in the hangar. They’d gotten word that Thalia was on her way home with some people she wanted him to meet. He didn’t know who exactly, but he was eager to find out.

“You have been in here for hours!” James called down at him from the overhead scaffolding. “How are you not bored?”

“I’m excited. What if they’re really cool?” Enzo smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. James rolled his eyes and smiled-Enzo was a piece of work.

After nearly another hour the hangar doors creaked open sending sharp rays of sunlight leaking in. Enzo let out a cheer of excitement, jumping up and down before running to greet the jet. The ramp lowered slowly, and it had barely completed its decent before Enzo was sprinting inside of it.

James watched expectantly until Thalia emerged holding Enzo in a bear hug. Her laugh was loud and boisterous much to his amusement, and Enzo was already rattling off series’ of questions. “If it isn’t the warrior herself, Thalia Odin.”

“Hello James!” Tucking Enzo under one arm Thalia waved happily at the older boy. “You look wonderful!”

“You too,” James snorted. Thalia had slimmed slightly, and she looked like she was made purely of lithe muscle. He watched in amazement as a few others hesitantly exited the jet, but they looked out of sorts. An odd group of people that James wouldn’t have pegged as Asgardians.

“Tell me everything,” Enzo insisted, tugging on his cousin’s arm, “all the details.”

“So, this is your youngest cousin?” Enzo looked over at a tan skinned woman who watched him with an expression of amusement. “Nothing like his father that’s for sure.”

“I like to think I have his better qualities,” Enzo informed her with a sly smirk.

“I love him. He’s mine. Sif, can I keep him?” Valkyrie ruffled Enzo’s hair affectionately. “Sif?”

James glanced over his shoulder to see Thor standing frozen in place with his eyes wide, mouth open, and eyebrows arched in disbelief. “Uh...you good?”

“Oh, oh yeah.” Thalia mumbled, “maybe should have warned dad about us coming by.”

“Hey uncle! Look at this!” Enzo cluelessly gestured to everyone. “It’s so cool! There’s so many of us.”

“Yes...I-well, I can see that.” Thor forced a smile. James gave Thalia a questioning look, and she made it clear now was not the appropriate time to explain. “For now, maybe we should get everyone settled.”

“Good idea.” Enzo decided as he ran off to find rooms for the visitors.

— — —

Alex was stuck on the treadmill for her physical testing of the month. Wires hung all over like a web, suction cups kept them in place, a mask measured oxygen intake, it also measured carbon output, a heart monitor was strapped to her chest, and she was determined to beat her old records.

“Bump it,” Alex breathed. One of the on hand doctors pushed the speed button bringing it down to 4:30 mile pace. She matched the acceleration with a bit of effort, trying to keep her arm swing normal, and her knee drive high.

Everything was going great until the Med Bay doors slid open. In an instant Alex ripped off all monitoring devices, wires, and timers to greet her friends. Sprinting to the entrance Alex tackled Nathaniel and Piper in a hug.

“Nice to see you too,” Nathaniel laughed.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming back.” Alex smiled giddily like a little kid.

“Turns out we had the same flight home,” Piper laughed, “I feel a bit bad for the flight attendants.”

“How is everything? What’s been going on?” Nathaniel held up a polite hand before Alex could ask anymore questions.

“I will tell you everything once I unpack,” Nathaniel gave the sweaty girl a quick hug before racing off to his long missed room.

“Never have I seen him run so fast,” Piper teased, watching him go.

“Only for doughnuts and juice.” Alex remarked. Both girls laughed and Piper slung an arm around her friend. “So, did you sort things out?”

“About what?” Piper asked in confusion.

“You know, you and Gen.” Alex shrugged.

“Oh, yeah...that.” Piper sucked in a sharp breath. “Not exactly. I think we both kind of pretended it didn’t happen.”

“Piper Stark!” Alex smacked her friend’s arm causing the other girl to wince. “You did not.”

“Well I didn’t know what to say,” Piper admitted, her cheeks turning a faint pink, “I mean it’s not like I can just say ‘thanks, that was great. See you at school.’”

“Well of course you can’t say that.” Alex chuckled. “Oh Piper, how I’ve missed your unfortunate antics and life crises.”

“Don’t patronize me you little shit,” Piper snorted, only to be playfully shoved in return.

— — —

The place was abuzz with excitement. Penny and Enzo were doing their best to get stories out of everyone. They took an immediate liking to Valkyrie and her theatrics. Chloe was secretly trying to scribble all of it down into one of her notebooks.

Arthur was more intrigued by Piper’s travels. He liked learning about other cultures and he’d never been able to experience much of them on his own. Not to mention it seemed like Piper had some pretty crazy adventures to share.

“Yeah, so apparently I have a niece,” Nathaniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Awe, come here.” Nat tugged him into a hug and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve got family here too, don’t worry too much about it.”

“I know,” Nathaniel nodded and smiled. Steve gave him a few words of wisdom before James came to tackle his long time friend. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” James grinned, “you look tired as hell.”

“Jet lag.” Nathaniel winced.

“I bet.” James nodded.

Fox watched from the shadows like usual. She didn’t know any of them really, hadn’t bothered to get to know them, and when she had interacted with the group it’d been as an enemy. Still, it was good to see such excitement. It livened up the sulking place a bit, but she was sad. She’d never had that sort of reunion with any of her friends and family.

“Hey, I got snacks. You want any?” Enzo asked, with a cheese stick stuffed in one cheek. He held up a platter of assorted packages.

“I’m good, thank you though.” Fox pressed her lips into a thin line.

“No problem.” Enzo smiled and bounded off.

— — —

Around lunchtime Bucky called in with good news. He and Bianca were heading back home. It was strange seeing Bianca so lively and involved with the festivities, but Bucky said their mission had been fruitful.

Bianca set out a series of folders on the coffee table. With careful hands she rearranged the contents, and with a satisfied nod she stepped back. “That’s my mother right there.”

Bianca pointed enthusiastically at a picture. The woman was charming with straight brown hair the color of damp soil, her smile reached her eyes, and she looked young and full of life.

“She’s so pretty,” Nathaniel smiled. “Hang on, look at me.”

Bianca did as she was told, and the older boy studied her face with an intense scrutiny. “What?”

“You have her nose.” Nathaniel decided.

“And those glorious eyebrows,” Penny added.

“You think so?”

“Totally,” James nodded, “what’s her name?”

“Olivia Jackson,” Bianca said the name with a tone of affection. “She’s incredible. She used to renovate homes in places like Mexico for poor families.”

“How does a generous person like her end up with such bad people?” Alex asked sadly.

“She has a friend, she’s no longer alive I’ve been told-I suspect foul play- but her friend was having trouble conceiving. My mother offered to help, but...it wasn’t what she thought. At least the surrogate aspect of it. M.A.D used her contacts as a ploy.” Bianca chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

“I can’t believe it,” Piper’s eyes looked sadly at Bianca, “why do good people get screwed over?”

“I don’t know, but before she died she wrote this.” Bianca gingerly picked up a piece of paper. A careful cursive was scrawled across the lines. “I hope one day you learn the truth about all of this. About me, about yourself, and I hope you do not hate me. Whatever the circumstances, no matter how I felt at the time, you’re still mine. It’s hard not to get attached to something you’ve loved and waited to hold for months. While this isn’t what I planned, or had in mind, I am your mother. Please, don’t lose your humanity to these people. You’re far too precious. Love, Mom.”

“That’s amazing Bianca,” Alex whispered giving the girl’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “she’d be more than proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Bianca smiled.

— — —

The group of kids spent the rest of the evening looking through the documents with Bianca. Occasionally, Bucky joined in and explained a riveting detail of their journey.

From the parents’ perspective it was nice to see them all invested in one another. So caring, kind, and loved. They really were a small family in and of itself.

A buzz from Tony’s phone caught his attention. “Well I’ll be damned, if this day isn’t any luckier already.”

“What is it?” Pepper frowned, peeking over his shoulder.

“Little Scouty is on his way home.” Tony laughed. “Look at Wanda. What a dork.”

“Let me see!” Steve begged. Sure enough Wanda had taken a picture of Scout and Vision passed out in the rental car. “Awe.”

“He’s going to be mad when he realizes he wrinkled his book pages,” Nat noted slyly.

“We cross that bridge when we get there!” Tony scoffed in fake irritation.

While the kids had their own reunion the parents did as well. Wanda-the baby of the group-was greeted excitedly by everyone. Scout, shuffled into the room looking half asleep still, but he was woken up soon after by bone crushing hugs. “Hey guys.”

“The news has been showing clips,” Alex rambled, “sounds like you guys were doing some awesome work.”

“Awesome, maybe.” Scout shrugged, “it’s a bit gruesome if I’m honest. Definitely a reality shock.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job. I can’t imagine how many people must be thankful for you guys stepping in to help.” James clapped his friend on the shoulder. “It makes me proud.”

“Someone is awfully sappy today,” Piper joked, “good to see you Maximoff.”

“Likewise, Stark.” Scout nodded, “who else has come home?”

James patiently explained everything he’d learned in an attempt to get Scout up to speed. The boy took everything in with ease and shifted through it with little effort at all. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes, of course,” Scout smirked, “did you forget about my wit James?”

“Not a chance!”

— — —

Grand entrances were part of the Quill family tradition. Hence the loud music blasting from a ship descending into the hangar with Orion jamming out on the open ramp. “Thunder! Oh wha oh wha oh oh. Thunder!”

“AC/DC!” Piper cheered.

“Not surprised at all.” James laughed, too relaxed to avoid joining in on Piper’s spontaneous dance party. Soon the entire hangar room was full of dancing teenagers, and even Chloe was dancing though Arthur held her hands and made her participate.

“Fireworks!” Orion yelled pressing a button on some sort of hand held remote. Sparklers exploded from the sides of the ship, and he leapt down onto the hangar ground with his arms open as if to say ‘I have arrived’. “Confetti!”

“Oh my god!” Penny laughed hysterically. “I love this man!”

“Ladies and gentlemen I have returned,” Orion took a cocky little bow, flourishing his arms, “the fun can officially begin.”

It only took a sly little wink from Orion to have Scout tackle him in a hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“Like wise!” Orion shouted over the music. “I see the squad is back together?”

“More or less,” Scout nodded. A lull in conversation followed with both boys trying not to stare at one another. “This is really awkward.”

“You think?” Orion laughed.

“Well yeah. That’s why I said it!”

“You dork,” Orion rolled his eyes before grabbing the sides of Scout’s face, “you need to learn to stop thinking.”

“That’s literally imposi-“Orion pressed his lips against Scout’s forcing him to shut up. “-ble. Did you just kiss me?”

“Yeah!” Orion nodded.

Disgusting...do it again.” Scout decided.

“OH MY GOD! YES!” Enzo ran excitedly in place. He dissolved into a yelling mess and told anyone he could that they were kissing. Of course, everyone had already noticed by now. (End of Part I Part one 😂)