#together at this point in their careers; neither could be said to be old exactly at this point‚ but their stardom was on the wane

[amadeuswing]

( idris elba | fifty | cis man | he / him ) oh darling, did you see? that’s amadeus wing, a victor from district two! they won the 40th hunger games at just eighteen years old, i remember it being quite the event. i did see on their latest magazine article that they’re cold, merciless, and loyal, and that they are mentoring this year. honestly, they remind me of the sound of rain against concrete, the call of a mourning dove and nighttime regrets played in a lonely blues club. what the public doesn’t know is that they’re a part of plutarch heavensbee’s rebellion, but such things can’t be said out loud.

the capitol gave him the name The Gravemaker ... his game ended after five days. His deal with President Snow involves murdering who he is told to murder.

Prior to the 40th Hunger Games:

Amadeus Wing grew up in a family focused on status and prestige. He was the third son, an unwanted son in the grand scheme of things. His parents already had two career children (who hadn't been chosen for past games) and the amount of money, time and attention his older brothers had taken had put a strain not only on the family financials but also on the family unit itself. Still, Amadeus knew that he had to aspire for better things to repay his family for allowing him to sit at their table.

Eleven months after he was born, his little sister was born. They were exactly one month apart, and as Gaius and Galorius Wing had only had (and wanted) sons, they had little knowledge of what to do for a daughter. They had passed both Amadeus and Amalia to Galorius' sister, and together, Amadeus and Amalia spent a happy childhood.

It was thought that Amadeus would grow up to be a peacekeeper, and he was raised with that mentality. Weakness wasn't a thing to be tolerated - yet his aunt was a gentle woman who suffered in working the quarry, and Amadeus loved her dearly. From a young age, he would find odd jobs that would pay him something -- anything -- so he could give his aunt the money. His aunt, Bellona, (whom he always called Auntie Bells), taught him how to dance, how to make a stitch, how to appreciate music. She would sing him and Amalia to sleep, encourage them to be comforted by the presence of family and to remember that they were human, they were made for love.

The 40th Hunger Games was the last game Amadeus and his sister, Amalia, would be eligible for. At this point, he had seen his parents at the Reapings, and so this day became something of a family reunion for the Wings. For only this day the entire Wing family: Gaius, Galorius, Justus, Julio, Bellona, Amadeus and Amalia would be together, a united front of farce and pretense.

On this game, Amadeus was selected as the male tribute...

and Amalia the female tribute...

The Capitol:

His parents celebrated that finally the family would gain the recognition they deserved. They too would have children who fought in the Hunger Games ... and perhaps one would win (though they didn't think highly of their chances, as the competition would be steep). His aunt wept out of fear, clinging to the children she raised. She begged them to take care of each other, to remember that they were capable of more than fighting and death.

Together, they were brought to the Capitol where they were barraged with questions and attention that neither of them knew how to deal with. Amalia hid behind her older brother, and Amadeus did his best to shield her. His scores were average, hers were low -- but the siblings stood out among the group due to their ability to talk to anyone about anything - they had charisma and charm... and more than that, they had a natural curiosity that allowed them to sit and talk for hours with others without feeling a moment of boredom. They shared stories, made alliances ... and all the while, they tried not to think about the upcoming games.

The Games:

They didn't know what the arena would look like for that year -- they were only brought up into it and warned to stay where they were told until the announcements finished and the games commenced. Amadeus had one plan -- protect his sister until the end and then take his own life.

The whistle sounded, and he leapt off his platform onto soft ground, sinking quickly and realizing just as fast that it was a sort of quicksand. He remained calm and used his upper body to slowly dredge himself out of the sand and onto the narrow beam running from each platform towards the center - the beam, not even a foots-width, was unsteady and poorly built, making it easier to fall off than it was to stay on.

Yet he managed it, arriving to the center after his sister (who had deftly figured out the problem before she leapt into the quicksand and balanced down the beam with little issue.) Despite his blunder, the siblings still arrived at the center before anyone else. He grabbed her hand, prepared to run into the heavily forested area when Amalia picked up a dagger from the pile of weapons and before Amadeus understood or could realize what she was doing, she slit her own throat.

She would not be the cause of her brother's death or the reason why he became a murderer. He held her in her arms, cradling her to his chest until she died. She was the first to leave the games. He refused the 'copters when they swept down to remove her body. Instead, he took her into the forest, searching for a rocky area and was able to bury her based on the customs of his district.

What then did he have to live for, he wondered to himself as the first night passed and two more cannon blasts sounded. He could not kill himself - he imagined that the capitol wouldn't be pleased with Amalia's act of defiance and refusal to play in the games. So, instead -- he hunted down the corpses of the two children - and knowing their names and districts... he dug graves for each of them, committing them to the soil with a prayer made unique and a burial from their district.

It was then the Spectators realized that Amadeus Wing had learned not only about the other tributes but about the histories and cultures of each district - not only because he was curious but because he had to know how each person would need to be buried. Afterall, he had planned to keep his sister alive.

It was on the third day, after burying three more tributes, that his game shifted yet again. He heard the callous laughter of a group of allied tributes as they made light of the game and the other tributes. They feasted on the rewards from their sponsors, joked, planned further murders -- and Amadeus saw the humanity leave their eyes.

Perhaps out of a bid to save them - allow them to keep their humanity, perhaps because he too wanted to defy the capitol, Amadeus shifted tactics. No longer did he hide in the shadows and remove the corpses - now he made them. He began to track down each tribute and systematically, coldly and with no regard for friendship or alliance, killed each one.

There was never any joy or sport in his kills. He would lure, tempt, funnel or otherwise stalk each person until he had them in his grasp. After each murder, he committed them to the ground.

The game ended after five days.

Afterwards:

The Capitol overseers were angered - the sport, blood and spectacle ended far too quickly. Yet, no matter how they tried to slow down Amadeus, he brutally overcame each obstacle. Frigid cold or heat didn't stop him. Fire and lightning bent to his will. An attacking swarm of insects became a weapon, as he ran them straight to another tribute. Fast moving water became a place to drown another...

But he had won.

He was allowed to go home - and while he was greeted by his parents and his brothers, he looked only for his aunt. Bells was not present. His parents told him truthfully that she had committed suicide soon after Amaila had died in the games. A great shame, she would have been proud of him -- they said.

But Amadeus knew better. His aunt had killed herself so she wouldn't see him become a monster. While his parents praised him, his brothers jockeying to become his new best friend - he only sat at the dinner table and felt the anger grow.

The children in the arena had lost their humanity out of a need for survival. He hadn't wanted to kill them, he only wanted them to stay human... yet he realized that the true monsters were the ones he sat at the table with. With nothing left to life for - he killed his four remaining family members and then set his dinner knife down and waited for the peacekeepers.

Currently:

Amadeus is a monster held in check by monsters. The capitol covered up the murders he committed, and he was told that he would have one job in the capitol -- to kill who needed to be killed without regard for who they were or why.

At this point, Amadeus has buried his humanity as far down as it could go. He has no one left to lose, and no one to care for him. He is often found in small jazz bars where he takes comfort in the dark space and soulful music. On the surface, he is a self-deprecating man who is interested in others, enjoying a good conversation ... but below the surface, he is the monster the capitol created.

He wishes for a kinder, gentler world and is willing to fight for it -- but should that peace ever come to pass, Amadeus would not allow himself the chance to partake. He is a dead man walking... a gravemaker with his own grave ready next to his sister and aunt.

#−−− ꧁ AMADEUS WING : how long before a legend becomes a god or forgotten. ❨ biography. ❩

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

So Nathan and Nora did a live session in response to the week long dunking on Liam - and you can listen to it here.

I really enjoyed it so I'm going to write my thoughts, as I've taken to do about the podcasts I find most interesting about 1D members.

It has been weird for me, who listened to the whole of Liam's interview and mostly found it boring, to see the endless backlash of dunking against him. It didn't seem like a big deal. I could barely care, and I actually watched the whole thing. The inter-band conflict was wildly blown out of proportion for what he actually said, and the 'boasting' was all things that were true at one point, but hadn't remained true.

That they were doing an emergency live chat suggested that Nathan and Nora saw things differently from me. But in general Nathan was quite chill and had a sense of proportion about what was said - he also made what I think is a key point, which is that Liam knows Zayn better than we do. I also think he did a good job of naming the actual dynamic going on for a lot of people, which is, 'dunking is fun' - and doesn't actually have any content to it beyond that.

Nora was the one catastrophising, but what I thought was fascinating was that she saw that interview as the opposite of responsible Liam, rather than an example of exactly the same dynamics that had created responsible Liam. That actually 16 year olds who seem responsible are in fact trying to please, and it's no surprise that anyone who was that eager to please those in power when they're 18, will then try and please douche bag podcast hosts a decade later.

There was some discussion of the damage of being a child star, and what you expect from 1D members. At one point Nora says 'it would be amazing if 3.5 members of 1D were OK', and I was trying to figure out which 3.5 she would be imagining are OK.

I thought their discussion of Harry's vulnerability was sort of really interesting, but the way they were having the conversation was super distressing to me. The inability of either of them to name consent as the key issue when it came to sex, and instead run together, having lots of sex, cheating of people, and sexual violence as the same sort of messy ground. There are far too many reminders that any gains we've made around the politics of sex are really fucking fragile at the moment.

On a less depressing, and more 1D note, I found it interesting that Nathan really does believe that Harry has slept with lots of women. (I also thought their discussion of the subtext of sushi restaurant was even funnier in the context of the sushi discourse within 1D).

They talked about other things as well: Taylor (with interesting thoughts about the dynamics of the re-release and some funny discussion of Joe's career) and Game of Thrones (although not a lot of substance there).

And then at the end Nathan came in with his 'I used to be CEO of Ticketmaster and think capitalism is good actually' hat. He was obviously letting ticketmaster way off the hook for the current awfulness of the ticket buying experience. He said that you don't want to turn it into Elizabethan theatre, with the rich people up the front and the plebs up the back. Which suggests he understands neither Elizabethan theatre, or the current price of seats at the back of Harry Styles shows.

Anyway - I found the discourse interesting - I'm really into them talking more about 1D, even - or especially - when I disagree with them.

#Oh Lima #I find the forces that lead people to spend a week shit talking you #far more interesting than what you actual said #orpeople's jsutifications for their outrage

[rolling-restart]

"things you said when we were on top of the world" for seb/lewis, maybe hurt/comfort!

-🌻

Pairing: Seb/Lewis

Prompt: 21. things you said when we were on top of the world

Tags and content warnings: Bittersweet, thinking of the future, fluff, emotions. Like so many emotions.

Word count: 1131

Set after the 2018 Mexican Grand Prix.

Not beta-read.

“You did it.”

Sebastian didn’t mean to come across as bitter or upset but the sentiment was clear as day and neither of them made an effort to hide it. 

“I did it.”

They were sitting on a balcony, taking the view of Mexico City. There was an air of calmness after the celebrations. Sebastian was set to leave early in the morning whereas Lewis’s plane was set to depart in the late afternoon. They had a couple of stolen hours together but they didn’t seem to figure out how to make the most of it except for avoiding each other’s gazes. 

Lewis looked tired but he still had that glow of excitement on his face. Sebastian loved to see it, he even would be able to be as happy for him if he didn’t have skin in the game. He knew it was a selfish thought, but at that particular moment, he wished they had it differently. It wasn’t the bitterness of loss but more of a yearning feeling of something normal. To be able to be happy for your love and to smile as they smile. Not having these high stakes for their every move. 

However, Sebastian was also aware that they wouldn’t be the people they grew to love if they weren’t in this. They were fighters, never quitters and Sebastian couldn’t think of another career that could bring so much ardour to their personalities. Sebastian loved the flame in Lewis’s eyes, if only it wouldn’t dim Sebastian’s.

“Congratulations.”

They both knew Sebastian actually meant it. However they end up, Sebastian could never genuinely hate Lewis for doing his best and getting what he deserved. That was part of the problem. Everyone on the grid had to believe that they were the best if everything else was equal but Sebastian was getting weary of this sentiment. If he didn’t believe that, there was no reason to keep going and what would be better than yielding it to someone he loved so dearly? But what kind of a person would it make him if he decided to quit like that? Would he be still deserving of now 5-time-world-champion’s love? 

“Thank you. It doesn’t feel like it should, though.”

Sebastian hated himself for being all pouty and possibly lowering Lewis’s mood. He deserved every bit of the glory and it was Sebastian who had to question himself.

“What do you mean?”

Lewis stayed silent for a moment, then extended his hand towards Sebastian who was sitting on the chair across from his. 

“I should’ve been feeling on top of the world. But it doesn’t feel like that. I feel… I don’t know how I feel.”

Sebastian sighed. He knew exactly how Lewis felt. He felt happy and relieved because he finally proved himself better than everyone on the grid. He only had Michael’s record to chase now, the challenge Sebastian gave him long forgotten. He also felt guilty, as if he stole something from Sebastian. As a matter of fact, he did, but Sebastian couldn’t find it in him to blame Lewis for it.

“You fought fairly. You won. If there is anyone to blame at this point, it is those red clowns.”

Lewis chuckled, but it felt forced, just like Sebastian’s joke. Sebastian could almost sense that Lewis was thinking the same thing, drowning in his own ‘what if’s.

“I know, I know. But it doesn’t feel like winning if I cannot celebrate it with you.”

It made Sebastian’s heart ache that Lewis felt like he could celebrate with him. He should’ve been better, quieter. He should’ve controlled his face and the crack in his voice when he came to Mercedes garage to congratulate them. Deep down, a raw, unhinged Sebastian was even genuinely happy for Lewis. It was just buried amongst the ruins of Sebastian’s shattered ego.

“Who says you cannot celebrate with me? Are you calling me old?”

He was happy that he could put a smile on his lover’s face. Was his need to be pouty worth ruining Lewis’s celebration? The fact that his mind was taking turns blaming himself and his team shouldn’t have reflected on his interactions with Lewis. It felt selfish and wrong.

“No, you know what I mean. I was… I don’t know, okay. It is just not fair. Being so happy and so sad at the same time. As if we are linked and our brains take the average of our hearts. I wouldn’t change it for anything, though, the fact that my heart is linked to yours and I ache whenever you ache. It’s just… I just wish it was different.”

He knew it was partly this fault that they were all bitter and blue but he couldn’t help but feel reassured by Lewis’s words. It was one of many fancy ways of saying it. Your pain is my pain.

“I am not aching, love, I can take defeat like an adult. I am just a bit grumpy, that’s all.”

They both knew he was lying because it wasn’t just a regular defeat. Lewis had just passed the four championships mark. It almost felt like a point of no return in their professional competition 

“I would give it up to you if I could, you know.”

A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat because he knew it was a frank confession on Lewis’s part. 

“No, no you shouldn’t even if you could. You earned it. You have to prove them. And if it has to be someone else, I would want it to be you.” 

“You don’t hate me for it, do you?”

The genuine fear in Lewis’s voice made Sebastian’s heart clench. 

“Liebchen, how could I? You know, when we are all old and weary with heads not so full of hair, when we are rotting in a little cottage together, this won’t matter. No championships we lost to each other, which corners we decide to cut.”

Lewis was nodding slowly, smiling, probably envisioning that future Sebastian just illustrated. 

“It won’t, will it?”

“No, it won’t. Only how much I love you will matter. And how much you love me. And all the little things we shared throughout the years. And the fact that we managed to stand by each other’s side throughout all of it.”

Lewis was still smiling but Sebastian could see the glistening tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“I can still brag about it, though, can I?”

Sebastian kicked his leg, more or less lightly, but he didn’t let go of his hand. 

“Only if I am also allowed to brag, too.”

“God, our grandchildren will never want to visit us. Two old chaps bickering about who was the fastest all the time.”

Sebastian squeezed Lewis’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Sounds perfect.”

#things you said prompts #answered asks #🌻 #sfw. #mostly fluff and angst #Sebastian Vettel/Lewis Hamilton

[corvus--rex]

I feel like this would end up a fluffy drama, even though I really don't have anything for it beyond the next day. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I do have thoughts...ish... (including how exactly both Romelle and Shiro are Keith's siblings)

~*~*~*~

Even with protection, Keith knew he shouldn’t have done it.  It was too close to his heat, but he needed to unwind after the nearly disastrous day at work.  The alcohol made him tingle, but miles of bronze skin, a dazzling smile, and brilliant blue eyes made him burn.  He woke up alone the next morning, but he didn’t regret a second of it.  Neither did he regret it when he was sitting in his bathroom three weeks later staring at a positive pregnancy test.  He never regretted his decision that same day to keep his little girl.  The only part he ever regretted was not having enough to go on to find the Alpha he’d slept with that night.  The Alpha who shared the same dazzling smile and brilliant blue eyes with his daughter.

Strangers to parents to lovers

“Kiyara!  …Goddammit…” Keith called after his three-year-old daughter when she got away from him, immediately followed by a defeated sigh.  He really should have known better than to take her to a busy park on a weekend with only his sister to help keep an eye on his tiny agent of chaos.

Kiyara was already infamous for taking off, and Keith was seriously considering putting a leash on her.  It was a bit late at that particular point, given that she’d already bolted.  Keith ran after her, hoping to at least mitigate her usual mischief.  He caught sight of near-black curls a second before his toddler collided with someone.  Kiyara knew the instant her mother caught up, darting behind him to wrap tiny arms around his leg.

Picking her up, Keith turned back to whoever she’d collided with.  “I’m sorry about her.  You ok?”  He’d picked up on the Alpha scent and braced for the bite of anger or at least annoyance, but it never came.  In its place was only mild surprise and gentle amusement.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” the Alpha said, a trace of a laugh in his voice.

Something in that voice made Keith freeze.  He tore his eyes away from Kiyara to turn to the Alpha, only vaguely aware of Romelle finally catching up to them.  Keith was met with sapphire blue eyes, exactly the same as his daughter’s, that widened in surprise.  Surprise at what he didn’t know.  He didn’t believe there was recognition in the expression, but Keith knew.  There was no way he would ever forget this particular Alpha or the night they spent together four years earlier.  Everything about him and the few hours they’d had were burned into Keith’s memory.  How could he possibly ever forget the Alpha who’d given him his daughter?

Even with protection, Keith knew he shouldn’t have done it.  It was too close to his heat, but he needed to unwind after the nearly disastrous day at work.  The alcohol made him tingle, but miles of bronze skin, a dazzling smile, and brilliant blue eyes made him burn.  He woke up alone the next morning, but he didn’t regret a second of it.  Neither did he regret it when he was sitting in his bathroom three weeks later staring at a positive pregnancy test.  He never regretted his decision that same day to keep his little girl.  The only part he ever regretted was not having enough to go on to find the Alpha he’d slept with that night.  The Alpha who now shared those same brilliant blue eyes and dazzling smile with his daughter.

Keith had spent an entire year looking for him after finding out he was pregnant.  Unfortunately, all he had was the name of the club they’d both been at and the Alpha’s first name.  Club Rebellion and Lance, the stunning Alpha he’d brought home that night.  He’d given up after that first year, turning his focus to getting back to his career.  His entire world revolved around Kiyara, and he needed to get back to being one of the country’s top test pilots.  Once he’d gotten settled into his new routine, Keith had to admit to himself that too much time had passed, and that finding his daughter’s father was virtually impossible.  But the universe clearly had a sense of humor, Kiyara crashing head first into the parent she’d never known.

Without looking away, Keith passed Kiyara to Romelle.  “Melle, take her please,” he said, his voice strained, then briefly shifted his attention to Kiyara, “Sweetheart, go play with Auntie Melle.”

The Alpha in front of him, like he could ever forget Lance’s name, also hadn’t looked away, his surprise shifting into confusion.  “I feel like I know you from somewhere,” he said, searching Keith’s face like it held the answer.

“Yeah.  Club Rebellion.”

“Rebellion?  I haven’t been there in about four years.”

“Neither have I.”

Lance’s eyes followed Romelle and Kiyara, watching them play together in the grass across the path from where they were standing.  He paid a bit more attention to the toddler and while she looked far too much like Keith for him to be anything but her mother, he could see traces of himself there as well.  There was no question she had his blue eyes, he saw the slight dimple in her left cheek when she laughed, the dark curls that were normal for the women in his family – hell, he even had them in the right circumstances – and, even though Keith’s paleness lessened the intensity, Kiyara had the same warm honey-gold skin as the rest of his family.  Realization and a wave of nausea washed over him, the night at Rebellion coming back all at once, and he turned back to Keith. 

“How – how, um…how old is she?”  He stumbled through the question, afraid of the answer.

Keith closed his eyes with a sigh.  “She turned three two and a half months ago.  I am so sorry.  I had always hoped I’d be able to track you down first, not for it to be something like this.”

Lance took a step back, dropping hard onto the wood bench behind him.  “She’s re – she’s really mine?”

Keith sat beside him, his elbows on his knees.  “Yeah.  I wanted to find you, but having nothing but your first name and the club where we met didn’t give me much to go on.  It didn’t stop me from trying for a year, but I had to give up.  I needed to focus on her.  I didn’t know if you’d even be interested in being a parent, much less with someone you’d only spent one night with.”  He sighed, a soft laugh escaping.  “There are so many pictures and videos Kiyara’s going to beg me to delete them when she’s older.  Part of me always wanted you to be able to see it someday.”

Lance breathed a laugh of his own.  “Yeah, we – we do the same thing in my family.  This is…this is a lot to take in.  I actually only just moved back here; that’s probably a good part of why you couldn’t find me.  That night was my going away party…that I totally bailed on.  I was leaving for an internship at the Galaxy Garrison.  They hired me on full time after it was over so I stayed.  We just opened a new office nearby and I volunteered to transfer to be closer to my family.  I guess I have more family than I thought.”

“And I’ll probably always be sorry that you had to find out like this.  I won’t push for a relationship with either me or her if it’s not what you want.  It was my selfish decision to keep her, and it’s not fair to you to try to force you into a role you don’t want.”

Lance couldn’t take his eyes off that little girl, his little girl, and watched her with her aunt for several long seconds before responding.  “The really funny thing is that I’ve always wanted kids.  I think I just need some time to think first.  I don’t want to say anything or make a decision that’ll come around to bite us both in the ass later.  This is way too important.  She’s too important.”

Keith watched Lance watching Kiyara.  There wasn’t a single doubt he was serious.  The only question he had was what kind of relationship they would have in possibly co-parenting their daughter.  All Keith knew about Lance was his own physical attraction – something that apparently hadn’t waned at all in four years – and what the Alpha was like in bed.  He’d be lying to himself and everyone else if he said he wasn’t interested in doing that again, but they already had one toddler, there was absolutely no rush to give her a sibling.  Co-parenting, Keith.  Focus.

“My mother usually takes her for a few hours on Sundays.  There’s a coffeeshop close by; meet there tomorrow afternoon around two?”

Lance nodded, turning his attention back to Keith.  “Yeah.  I’m not busy tomorrow, and even if I was, it could wait.”  He pulled his phone out, ignoring the multiple texts from one of his housemates and best friends.  Pidge’s demands for movie night could definitely wait.  “Here, what’s your number?”

Keith rattled it off, his own phone buzzing in his pocket seconds later.

Unknown Number: it’s McClain, btw

Keith’s shoulders curled with a silent chuckle.  Four years of looking and wondering only to have that question answered so casually.  He shook his head and sighed before saving Lance’s contact and shooting off a text of his own.

Keith: Kogane

“I might text you later, if that’s ok?” Lance asked, returning his phone to his pocket and leaving Pidge’s messages unanswered.

“Yeah, that’s fine.  We have our weekly catch-up dinner, me and my siblings, and well, Romelle’s already here…pretty sure you’re going to be the topic of conversation tonight.”

“About that.  I live with my two best friends.  Are you ok with me telling them?  I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I feel like I’m going to need a sounding board before tomorrow.”

Keith considered it for a moment.  Having this conversation with Shiro and Romelle was quite a bit different.  They had both been around for his entire pregnancy, and Romelle had been there in the delivery room when Kiyara was born.  One or both of them had been there for most of her major milestones.  The only mystery on their end was trying to find Lance.  No one in Lance’s circle of family and friends had any idea at all that Kiyara existed, but they would have to know now.

“Yeah, just maybe not anyone else until we’ve gotten to figure things out a bit first.  Have answers to the questions they’ll all ask first.”

Lance stood, slipping his hands in his pockets.  “I'm not upset or pissed or whatever.  It’s just a lot to process.  But I’ll text you later tonight and we’ll talk tomorrow.  I want to just talk it out now, but I need a little time to adjust.”

Keith rose as well.  “If there’s anything you want to know before then, just text me.  I might not be able to answer right away with Kiyara and then both my siblings around, but I’ll get to it.  But yeah, I’d probably need a sounding board too.”

Realizing he was dragging it out, Lance took a step backward, nodding.  “Ok.  I’m sure there will be questions, and not just from me.  But I’d better get home before Pidge hacks my phone.  They’ve done it before.  They’re a fucking menace.”

Keith snorted.  “Oh, don’t worry about it.  I know both my brother and sister will have questions for you too.  They’re both a nosy pain in my ass.  And I should definitely get back to Kiyara before she takes off again.  But we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Two tomorrow,” Lance confirmed, “I’ll see you then.”

It wasn’t until after he’d turned to go that Keith remembered something important.  “Oh, shit!  I’ll text you the location!” he called.  Lance gave him a a wave to say he’d heard before disappearing into the thinning crowds.

“Mama!” Kiyara yelled when Keith joined her and Romelle.  He caught her, settling the toddler in his lap as he sat opposite Romelle.

“Who was that?” she asked.  She’d never seen him before, and had no idea why Keith had had the reaction he did.

Keith hugged his daughter close.  “That was…that was him.”

Romelle’s bright violet eyes went almost comically wide.  “Like him?  That was her…”  she trailed off, nodding toward her niece.

“Yeah.  We’re meeting tomorrow at Olkarion.”

“And you’re really sure that’s him?  I’m not trying to doubt you, but it has been four years.”

Kiyara had reached the temporary end of her endless toddler energy and only managed a sleepy, “Mama, no, s’naptime,” when Keith shifted her to pull his phone out.  A few seconds later, he turned it around, showing Romelle the tipsy selfie Lance had taken of the two of them that night before leaving Rebellion.  She’d seen it before, but not since before Keith had given up looking.

~

Lance closed the front door, his back hitting the wood with a solid thud.  He pulled his phone out, staring at Keith’s name and number as he allowed the past half hour to begin to sink in.  He, Lance, was a father.  A father to a little girl conceived during a one night stand four years earlier.  A one night stand he’d admittedly thought about every once in a while over the course of those four years, wondering about the Omega he’d slept with and if there was the possibility of their paths crossing again.  In sober retrospect, he remembered that Keith had been in pre-heat that night.  That thought made his mind race.  What if he’d gotten pregnant on purpose?  He had made a point of mentioning his pre-heat.  But no, he’d insisted Lance wear a condom.  It couldn’t have been intentional.  Could it?  But if it was, why even bother admitting they’d slept together after all that time?  That made no sense, and Keith had been so open and honest with what he did share about Kiyara; Lance had smelled it on him.  But that’s what their coffee date was for; they’d talk more tomorrow.  He was still standing there, his mind having jumped to the next problem of trying to figure out just how exactly he was going to explain this to his parents when Hunk walked out of the kitchen.

“Everything ok?” he asked, Beta nurturing instinct flaring at the sight of one of his best friends.

“Yeah.  Sort of?  I don’t know.  I don’t really have words for what just happened.  Where’s Pidge?”

“Upstairs.  You sure you’re ok?”

Lance pulled himself off the door.  “Yeah.  I’m gonna get changed and we’ll talk,” he said, heading for the stairs.

“Garlic knots will be done in ten minutes,” Hunk called after him.

“I’m gonna need those.  And maybe a beer or six.”

Hunk had no idea what could have happened on a simple walk in the park, but whatever it was, it had shaken Lance badly.  The space his Alpha friend had occupied was saturated with the acidic bite of his stress and worry.  As a Beta, Hunk was far less sensitive to Alpha and Omega pheromones, but this was bad enough that even he could smell it easily.  Tonight would not be easy.

#my writing #keith kogane #lance mcclain #keith x lance #klance #omega keith kogane #alpha lance mcclain #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

[crimeronan]

Ok so I’m into the dreamer trilogy and haven’t read the Raven cycle...what is Declan’s characterisation/journey there?

THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST ASK I’VE EVER RECEIVED. IMAGINE I’M STANDING WITH MY ARMS SPREAD USING DIFFERENT VOICES AND HAND GESTURES TO REENACT THIS STORY FOR A RESENTFUL CAPTIVE AUDIENCE

also declan’s TRC storyline is like. equal parts horribly fucking sad and unbelievably fucking hilarious so. i will try to strike a Balance

FIRST OFF.  there is exactly one (1) declan POV chapter in the entire series. it happens toward the end of the last book. up until then, everything we know about him comes from the observations and narration of others.

he is also a very minor character.  his importance grows throughout the series, but almost all of his actions happen offscreen.  it’s not until the last book that we know exactly how much he’s been dealing with the whole time.

when he’s introduced in the first book, he appears as a plot device.  here is a two-dimensional horrible controlling hardass who doesn’t give a shit about anything but his future political career.  look at his fake, smug fucking grin.  how did someone like ronan end up with a brother like him??  doesn’t matter.  it’s a convenient excuse for ronan to live with his best friend in a drafty warehouse, which means more room for YA hijinks!

declan’s introduction scene is Embroiled in Capital-D Douchebaggery. according to the narration (from gansey and adam), he loves to fuck women and then never call them back, cozy up to powerful people, and bitch about how ronan’s ruining his life by being sad about their dead parents.  SOME people can just get over their dead parents, ronan!

this intro scene is also Extremely Funny i 100% recommend reading it even if u don’t read the actual series.  ronan makes a nasty comment, declan goes “why are you the way that you are” and tries to salvage his date, gansey utters the phrase “man whore”

then later that night things go like. actually bad.

declan shows up at the same pizza place where ronan is with his friends.  this scene is gansey pov.  gansey runs out to the parking lot to find the two of them Very Literally Trying To Kill Each Other.  you don’t see that violence in cdth - there’s only the TINIEST shadow of it when declan confronts ronan over matthew - so i Cannot Express Enough that someone is going to end up hospitalized at BEST. ronan’s already slammed declan’s head on the car, declan’s already grabbed ronan and beaten the shit out of his face, like.

you do not get good old-fashioned Declan Lynch At His Actual Worst in cdth. u might be thinking, THAT guy???? doing THIS????

oh yeah. things are real bad between declan and ronan.

after gansey breaks up the fight (and gets punched in the face for his trouble, albeit accidentally), declan tells ronan that their dad would be fucking ashamed to see him now & that he’s washing his hands of it & basically if ronan wants to go off and fucking die, he can.

this is like. just a couple months after the magical suicide attempt referenced in cdth

in the aftermath of that scene it becomes clear that ronan absolutely unequivocally 100% will kill himself if he has to live with declan. hence. why he’s living with gansey instead.  gansey spends that whole night petrified that the declan altercation will lead to another attempt, and for Good Reason

so like, that’s how we first meet declan. he’s an uncaring wannabe corporate asshole who does not give a fuck and who only exists to exacerbate ronan’s mental health issues.

but then the opening of book 2 gets real interesting.

book 2 is where we start learning more about the lynch family.  we learn that ronan’s father was a dreamer who sold his creations on the black market, we learn that that’s why he was murdered. we learn that ronan’s a dreamer too. we learn that there are very powerful people looking for the greywaren, an artifact that takes objects from dreams. those powerful people just don’t realize it’s a person, yet.

so here’s the assassin who killed niall lynch.

he goes to declan’s dorm.

with everything we know about declan, the kid should be completely unprepared.  he can box, but the assassin knows that, so there’s no real advantage.  he’s alone, and he doesn’t have an escape route.

declan pulls out a gun.

this is an unexpected turn of events.

unfortunately he ends up getting beaten half to death with the butt of said gun, because he loses the ensuing physical struggle for the weapon.  the assassin is like, i need the greywaren.  declan is like, i know it exists but i don’t know what it is.  i’ll find it for you.  i’ll get it to you.  then you’ll leave me the fuck alone

now with everything we know of declan at this point - his attitude toward ronan, his general demeanor, and this new knowledge that he knew about the black market - there’s one obvious question.

will declan sell ronan out if he finds out about the dreaming.

and like, okay. their relationship is antagonistic in cdth but it is NOT what it is in trc. believe me when i tell you that at that point, when you’re reading, you can pretty reasonably go, “oh, god.  oh god.  oh god please no one ever tell declan what the greywaren is.  oh god.”

declan has some other interactions with ronan and the gang throughout the book, mostly where he’s just a hardass who tells ronan to stop causing trouble.  adam’s the only one who notices that declan is scared.  like bone-deep shaking to the core petrified.  about Something.

probably getting beaten to within an inch of his life by the man who murdered his father.  that’s the reasonable reader conclusion.

so imagine how everything changes when you find out that declan already knows.  that declan’s known about ronan’s dreaming for longer than ronan has.  that declan knew exactly what and who the greywaren was, and he lied to a man who was ready to torture him for information, and he got away with it.

suddenly a lot of things recontextualize.

“keep your head down and stop making trouble”? people are gonna NOTICE your magic bullshit, ronan, we do not have time for this!

“stop hanging with that loser druggie friend of yours”? you mean the loser druggie friend who sells on the magic black market and doesn’t care about protecting himself or anyone else?

“i got super weird for no reason about ronan sleeping close to adam”? i don’t have fucking TIME to be homophobic i’m busy with your POTENTIAL TO MANIFEST NIGHT TERRORS IN FRONT OF WITNESSES IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

“i’ll find out what the greywaren is and bring it to you”? i’ll die. i’m making a bargain to die. i’m never giving you the greywaren and i know you’re going to kill me about it and that’s fine as long as my brothers are safe

ronan doesn’t know that he dreamed matthew.  declan knows.  he’s known the whole time.  declan tells ronan in book 3.  and then things recontextualize even further, because ronan’s death is also matthew’s, and matthew IS close to declan in trc.

but declan never tells the goddamn truth unless it’s his last option.  he doesn’t tell ronan that he knows about the dreaming and he doesn’t tell ronan what specifically wants to hurt him and the lack of communication fucking destroys both of them.

in the last book, ronan realizes declan loves him.

more than that, he realizes declan’s loved him the whole time.

this is when declan finally tells the truth.  things are getting bad, plot-wise, and declan is scared, so he comes clean.  he tells ronan that niall specifically tasked declan with protecting ronan from the market.  he begs ronan to run from the danger.  “let’s pour gasoline on everything dad left and start over.”

this is also when ronan realizes that declan’s childhood was very different from ronan’s own.  and that niall and aurora lynch were not the same people to declan that they were to ronan.  and that their father’s decisions are what’s driven the wedge between him and declan all this time

(he’s still struggling with the cognitive dissonance of this in cdth. i don’t think he knows how to adjust his perception of declan to fit this new information.)

aaaaand the final scene with declan makes me cry every time i read it so instead of summarizing, here’s the important part:

Ronan delivered a sharp tap to the object, and a small cloud of fiery orbs sprayed up with a sparkling hiss.

“Jesus, Ronan!” Declan jerked his chin away.

“Please. Did you think I’d blow your face off?”

He demonstrated it again, that quick tap, that burst of brilliant orbs. He tipped it into Declan’s hand, and before Declan could say anything, jabbed it to activate it once more.

Orbs gasped up into the air. For a moment, he saw how his brother was caught inside them, watching them soar furiously around his face, each gold sun firing gold and white, and when he saw the spacious longing in Declan’s face, he realized how much Declan had missed by growing up neither dreamer nor dreamt. This had never been his home. The Lynches had never tried to make it Declan’s home.

“Declan?” Ronan asked.

Declan’s face cleared. “This is the most useful thing you’ve ever dreamt. You should name it.”

“I have. ORBMASTER. All caps.”

“Technically you’re the orbmaster though, right? And that’s just an orb.”

“Anyone who holds it becomes an ORBMASTER. You’re an ORBMASTER right now. There, keep it, put it in your pocket. D.C. ORBMASTER.”

Declan reached out and scuffed Ronan’s shaved head. “You’re such a little asshole.”

The last time they’d stood on this roof together, their parents had both been alive, and the cattle in these fields had been slowly grazing, and the world had been a smaller place. That time was gone, but for once, it was all right.

The brothers both looked back over the place that had made them, and then they climbed down from the roof together.

#long post #REALLY long post #i haven't reread this so excuse any incoherence #trc #trc meta #not really but?? #suicide / #declan lynch #i love my idiot son #replies #Anonymous

[hyungieyoongi]

Found: “Run Away to You” Part 1

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff + Angst 

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You 

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

// Part 2

---

Looking at the calendar on your wall, the date glared back at you, red marker encircling the number as if you could forget it.

One year. It had been one whole year since you ran away from your old life.

Happy anniversary to me, you thought bitterly.

It hadn’t been easy–no, it had been tactful, strategic. Your best friend-turned-publicist, Marianne, had programmed your social media accounts to simultaneously deactivate. The phone you used for “celebrity” contacts and business-related matters was permanently turned off, stashed away in the back of a drawer. You had already moved all your belongings to a new apartment on the other side of the city, address undisclosed to everyone except Marianne and your parents on the other side of the world. Everything had been in place for you to completely disappear.

You were instructed to lay low for at least one entire month, groceries delivered to your door under a fake name with Marianne’s credit card. You had cut your hair, once long and flowing, to your collarbone. It was often hidden under a baseball hat when you went to your favorite café for a coffee or took your elderly neighbor’s dog for walks around the park. You were completely off the radar, just as intended.

That didn’t stop the world from trying to track you down for a while. Fan blogs speculated where you could have gone, and tabloids splashed old pictures of you on their covers with speculative headlines. Your parents even had to install a state-of-the-art security system in your hometown in the States after a magazine found out where you grew up and tried to break into their backyard. But you weren’t naïve enough to go back home; that was the first place people would expect you to go. Instead, you were hidden in plain sight in Seoul, just sans the flashes of the cameras following you. Without the designer clothes or big sunglasses hiding your features, you looked just like anyone else. Undetectable.  

You had grown up in America, studying acting and Korean during your time at university with Marianne. Upon graduation, you landed a major role in a K-drama, uprooting your entire life to move to Seoul. For five years, you lived in the spotlight under the industry’s microscope. People said you were living the dream, but it started to feel more like a nightmare. It became overwhelming, suffocating.

When the show wrapped after three seasons, you knew it was time. You decided to run. You just wish you didn’t have to hurt anyone else in the process. Especially him.

You had instructed Marianne to give him a letter explaining why you had to go away, but she never heard back from him.

Let me go, Yoongi. Don’t look for me. This is for the best. I will always care about you. – Y/N

The words were emblazoned in your memory, your eyes tearing up at the thought of him reading the words you wrote to him.

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.  

Your cell phone rang, distracting you from the memories that plagued your thoughts today.

“Good afternoon, dearie!” Marianne chirped on the other end of the phone. “It’s a big day for you. The first half of your manuscript came back from the publisher, so get excited to do some editing!” Hiding away from the world for a year gave you a lot of time to think. For you, that meant time to write. Marianne seamlessly transitioned from being your publicist for your acting career to managing your budding career as an author, even helping you pick out a pseudonym.  

“That’s great news,” you mumbled in reply, taking a long sip of your coffee, the bitterness blooming on your tongue.

“Are you alright? You sound, I don’t know, a little off,” Marianne questioned, concern lacing her normally peppy tone.

“It’s been one year, Marianne,” you replied, knowing she’d understand.

“Oh my,” Marianne said after a beat of silence. “It completely slipped my mind. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright just a little…weird, I guess? I’m so relieved to have my own life again. But I’m also just kind of mourning my old life today.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Do you want me to come over after work–we can order takeout and watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” Marianne offered.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m just going to spend the day doing some self-care. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss the manuscript timeline, right?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be at the café at 11:00 a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay today?” Marianne asked, clearly not convinced that you were telling the truth about being alright.

“I’ll call you if I need you, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Night or day, Y/N, you know I’m here.”

After you both said your goodbyes and ended the call, you started to feel restless, needing something to take your mind off the date and the competing emotions swirling in your brain. You decided fresh air and comfort food were the solution.  

Grabbing your keys off the table by the front door, you slipped on your shoes, heading for the local corner store in your neighborhood, mindlessly forgetting your hat on the hook on the wall.

---

Mask pulled over the lower half of his face to conceal his appearance, Yoongi slipped into a nearby corner store, saving himself from the prying eyes that seemed to be examining him a little too closely from across the street.

He had snuck out of the studio without security, wanting to just take a moment to breathe all to himself. He had driven around Seoul with no destination in mind, eventually stopping in a neighborhood he found with a quiet park for a walk. His thoughts betrayed him as they kept going back to you and the letter he received one year ago, now crumpled in the top righthand drawer of his desk. He didn’t need to pull it out today to remember exactly what it said.

Let me go.

Once he read those words, he had stopped reading, smashing the paper together between his fists in frustration, shoving it in the drawer. It had stayed unopened since last year.

Yoongi aimlessly wandered through the aisles of the store, his mind continuously returning to that drawer. He had worked so hard to stop thinking about it–about you–over the past year. Today was a harsh reminder that you were still on his mind. He had stopped calling a long time ago, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up or return his calls. Sometimes though, if he had a little too much to drink with the boys, he’d call your number just to hear your voice on the voicemail recording. He didn’t tell anyone about those late-night calls.

Rounding the aisle corner, he collided with someone, knocking the snacks they had bundled in their arms to the ground. They immediately knelt down, trying to collect them.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” Yoongi offered, starting to lean over.

“Oh, no that’s okay I’ve got it.” Yoongi froze, his body going rigid. That voice. Your voice. He hadn’t heard it in-person in over a year. The sweetness of it rang through his ears, reminiscent of the voicemail he knew by heart.

It was you. After all this time.

---

Standing up with your snacks back safely in your grasp, you looked at the man in front of you who seemed to be barely breathing.

You were about to ask if he was alright, but then you recognized it. The black hat–the one with two rings on the edge that he would often wear when he went out. His mask had slipped below his nose, his pale cheeks slightly squished under the pressure of the fabric. Black hair poked out from underneath the hat, falling onto his forehead and into his dark brown eyes. They were wide with shock.  

You felt the color rush from your face, hands beginning to shake because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were safe. Safe in your self-made bubble away from the world.

Until he found you. And it burst.

You contemplated turning around, pretending you hadn’t recognized him. Leave him again. But you knew that wasn’t an option now. You had to face the thing you were most scared of–him.

“Yoongi, I-” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Your hair,” Yoongi remarked, cutting you off, tone flat and quiet. “You cut your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “Just...wanted a change, I guess.”

Hide. You wanted to hide.

“You seem to have gone through a lot of changes,” Yoongi said, bitterness seeping into his voice.

You winced at the implication of his words. You took a deep breath to try and collect yourself before replying.

“Can we...can we not do this here?”

“Fine.”

“I live around the corner. Maybe we could just...talk?” you asked, averting your eyes to the ground. When you didn’t hear a reply, you looked back up to Yoongi, who nodded at you once in agreement.

Abandoning your would-be purchases, you walked out the front door of the store, Yoongi silently following behind you. You felt his eyes burning into your back.

Just put one foot in front of the other, you thought to yourself.

As you and Yoongi silently walked to your apartment, neither of you noticed the camera pointed at the two of you, snapping the photo that would change everything.

// Part 2

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles​ @agustd-2020​ @delacyrose224​ @crispychanniee​ @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh

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Check out my other work! ❤️ 

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #run away to you fic #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga #suga x reader #sugar x y/n #bts au fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

[klaineownsmysoul]

So...I went ahead and listened to this week’s podcast last night even though I knew it was going to be a shitshow just from the summary posted alone and even with the heads up posted here.  Yikes.  Thank goodness I made a point of listening while I was putting away groceries since I knew I’d need some sort of distraction.  I’m just going to go ahead and say it: what a complete waste of 40 minutes.  His mostly and anyone who was listening hoping to hear what’s going on in D’s career now (or anything else) and not yet another plug for a 2 and a half year old party no one is talking about now.  I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but its so sad that this is what he’s reduced to talking about.

It was like someone sat him down, handed him a checklist of points that people have commented on, and had him refute them one by one.  Is this a legal marriage because they “officiated it themselves?”  Why yes it is, because it turns out they got hitched beforehand and this was all just an expensive show. Kind of like their “relationship” so I guess its a perfect metaphor for it.  It didn’t look like there was any part of D’s personality present at said party so how involved was he?  Turns out very!  He’s super duper proud of everything and loved all of it, even if he expressed zero to no interest in ever talking about his wedding beforehand.   Even if all of the decor (term used loosely) looked exactly like what someone who thinks that “peeing herself in public is a badass move to be bragged about” would pick because its edgy and cool?  Ok.  Sure.  A couch that referenced a “happy ending?”  A “name a more iconic duo” table that looked like it was plucked straight out of a novelty store from the mall?  And let’s not forget the souvenir shot glasses with the word “fuck” on them.  Giant plastic versions of tic tac toe and other games for toddlers at the ready in case people got bored?  All absolute winners and clearly something to aspire to.  Its such a shame that his fellow glee clubbers weren’t inspired to model their parties after his.  Perhaps they were...just in the complete opposite direction.  I’ve never seen a celeb wedding that looked that cheap and tacky but still probably cost a fortune.  It was like one giant Super Bowl ad with the endless stream of sponsors to thank afterwards. I guess a hallmark of special togetherness is having your wedding catered by Corporate America.  BRB swooning.  Can you imagine choosing a more perfect wedding song than Ballroom Blitz? Unheard of.  And poor D - how truly sad that he’s not aware of the crissmyglitz hashtag created just for this special occasion. It certainly was easy to miss.  Its not like the (supposed) professional event planner used it in a post or anything like that.  He cared so deeply that neither he nor his stylist could bother getting his tux pressed before the wedding so he looked wrinkled and unkempt.  You have tons more pics?  Please keep them, I beg of you.  A Vogue photospread is exactly what I would expect from someone who didn’t want to be part of a public relationship, so thanks for keeping this low key.  I’d expect an endless rehashing of this day from the little wifey because its all she has.  I don’t need it from someone who has so much more to give and is so much more than who he’s married to. No one who thinks this part of your life is complete bull is going to be swayed by an abundance of press about your wedding now.  It looks sad and desperate and like reinforcing the extra super straight narrative takes precedence over anything and everything else.  

I find it hard to believe that you have lots of pics on your phone of the wifey looking “gorgeous” that haven’t been shared with the world - because you said previously that she goes through your phone and shares pics from it.  I seriously doubt if those pics were there that they wouldn’t have made their way to one of her little minions so it could make the rounds online.  This is someone who would trample small children and dogs if it meant getting into a pic with you; I’m not buying that she would leave them on your phone for no one to see.  And I feel like I’ve gotten a guided tour of your home there’s been so much posted from it so I’m not buying the private part of that either.  

E/ste?  If you’re worried about going to something that’s indoors in Vegas (as you expressed and I agree with), why the fuck are you inviting him to come with?  How does that make any sense at all?  

I personally don’t need to see every little thing he does and I like the fact that he doesn’t want to share every detail of his life online because it makes the things he does share that much more meaningful.  Or at least it used to before his team got their claws on his SM and torpedoed his real voice.  He’s still a person and is still entitled to keeping part of his life private if he chooses to.  Maybe that’s my age and my deep-seeded introversion talking but I am cool with him taking pics from wherever he goes and not sharing all of them immediately with the world.  I just want to be a fan of his, nothing more and nothing less.  HIS fan.  Not their fan and definitely not her fan.  I scan print interviews, read summaries of live interviews, and listen to this podcast nearly every week waiting for the ball and chain to drop (literally) since I can’t trust that there doesn’t seem to be any aspect of his life that she won’t infect.  This relentless pushing of her and their fairy tale romance feels like a way to steer fans of him away so the only ones left are the ones who are buying them.  Since I don’t it means that I don’t matter.  Thanks.  I stay for him.  I put up with her.  I shouldn’t have to.

#we get it #you're married to a girl #its enough already #let it fucking go

[ckneal]

There’s a midam AU idea that’s been living in the back of my mind for months now, but it’s been slow going. Mainly because I suspect that doing the idea justice is going to mean doing more research than I’m used to, and maybe even rewatching the series proper to help me fill in some of the weak spots, and I have so many other story ideas that are frankly just easier to work on, two of which are already slated to be multi-chapter works. . . But I’m in the mood to type up something longwinded, so here we go. Keep reading if you’d like to see a rough outline of the first few chapters of this story I really hope to write out properly sometime.

(Warning, this is a long one.)

So, this story is loosely based on the Hundred Years War that took place between England and France from 1337-1453. But it’s only very loosely inspired. Very, very loosely. As in, I was reading a book, I read about one thing that happened, it germinated in my head, and then suddenly I had a plot developing that featured my current favorite ship. Additional sources of inspiration include one of my favorite fantasy series, and a personally beloved trashy romance novel. Because it’s fanfiction, folks. There are no rules here.

Of course, in this AU, the entire world is going to be made up, with neither side of the war distinctly being assigned the role of England or France—or Flanders or Burgundy, for that matter. I barrowed an inciting incident, and few smaller details from history to help things along here and there, but with no regard for keeping all the French things assigned to one group and the English ones to another.

That said, the inciting incident took its inspiration from the Battle of Poiters, a conflict during which England not only won against the French, but also took their king hostage. King Jean II was later ransomed back to his people, but at a sum that was so high, France could not afford to pay it all at once. England still returned France’s king, but new hostages were provided to serve as collateral during the interim, including the King’s son.

So. . .crown Prince Michael Shurley completely decimates King John Winchester on the battlefield, and sends his demands to John’s queen, Mary Winchester. The two kingdoms have been locked in a territory dispute for several decades, and this is one of the more humiliating events to befall the smaller kingdom yet, especially since they are unable to meet all of Michael’s demands. When the Winchesters begrudgingly admit this to the Shurley representatives, they’re caught off guard when they’re offered a trade: John Winchester will be returned, so long Dean Winchester takes his place as collateral.

Things are less than stable in the Winchester kingdom however, with more than a few factions quietly scheming for power. John and Mary were an arranged marriage that was originally held up like a fairytale when the two seemingly fell madly in love during their mandated courtship, but the years afterward had changed them. Civil unrest sparked by the war had brought out a lot of disagreements between the Winchesters and the Campbells and their approaches to governing.

John’s supporters are the ones to step forward with a plan, and convince Mary that it’s vitally important the people are not alarmed by their king’s capture. Mary initially finds it distasteful, but it’s talked around and adjusted and reframed, as John’s people ferret out more and more information about the vital party involved, until she finally agrees.

Because John Winchester just happened to have a bastard son. The resemblance to Dean might not be particularly remarkable, but no one at the Shurley court has ever seen the Winchester heir before. Plus, Adam Milligan has spent the entirety of his teen years studying to become a physician, of all things. He’s perfect for their purposes. 

Ten years prior, the Shurley court had had to deal with its own bout of civil unrest, when King Chuck Shurley’s second eldest son had attempted to overthrow him with the support of several nobles from one the kingdom’s richest providences. Lucifer had allegedly been driven into exile following his defeat, and Chuck had been said to have contracted some sort of mysterious illness. According to rumors, the king had shut himself up in his private chambers and refused to admit anyone apart from his remaining children. Even servants were barred from tending him directly.

They snatch Adam away from his studies and force him into compliance by dusting off an archaic law left over from before the start of the war, when the kingdom relied on a conscription military force rather than a standing army full of career military professionals—this law empowering the crown to call on any of its citizens for a minimum forty days of military service per year. They tell Adam that his mission seems more dangerous than it is—really, all he has to do is pretend to be Dean, and use his medical knowledge to figure out exactly what mysterious illness has bedridden the enemy monarch.

Sam and Dean—the proverbial heir and spare of the kingdom—are not at court to meet their younger brother, when he’s hastily fitted for a royal wardrobe and put through a crash course on court etiquette. Sam is very publicly put on display at a holiday festival in another part of the kingdom, while Dean is sent orders to quietly stay behind at a country estate while his valet, Kevin Tran, is sent on to court. Neither of the princes is told about the plan until after Adam has already been shipped out, with Kevin in toe to help Adam along with the impersonation.

No one involved is in anyway comfortable with the mission. But it was only supposed to be for forty days. Adam was assured that the necessary funds to pay off the ransom would either be raised by the end of the minimum mandated service, or they would make contact to extract him. The Campbells and the Winchesters both allegedly had spies in the Shurley court, and they would make themselves known when the time was right.

Adam is given the impression that the latter had been told to him with the intention of making him feel safer. It did not work.

He’s terrified when he arrives—almost would have preferred being promptly thrown into a dungeon upon arrival, instead of a room full of foreign nobility who one and all give off the impression that if cut they’d bleed straight silver, and look at “Dean,” the hostage prince and purported military genius from the tiny, vicious country across the channel, as a curiosity to be studied. He’s assigned two guards (who I decided will be Anael and Samandriel, based entirely on the tags I threw together at then end of this post, during which I decided that I love these three together), who follow him around relentlessly, but beyond that, he’s. . .pretty much treated like a guest. If a stiflingly monitored one. There are limitations on where he can go and what he can do, but for the most part he’s just sort of. . .there.

Most unnerving of all, however, is the small package that Adam finds in his room when he first settles in. Kevin swears he has no idea who left it. It has the Campbell’s insignia clearly worked into the pattern of the paper it’s wrapped in, and inside he finds a knife small enough to conceal on his person, and a number of different herbs and powders that he recognizes from his studies—though of course, he’s more familiar with remedies to counteract their effects.

In other words, he finds an assassin’s-first-kill-job kit, and instructions on how and when to use it, if opportunity arises. This had not been part of the deal when Adam reluctantly signed on.

Unbeknownst to Adam however—though suspected by some parties in the Winchester court—Adam cannot assassinate Chuck Shurley, because Chuck is not there. Shortly after Lucifer’s insurrection, Chuck had quietly disappeared. Michael had only been a teenager at the time. He invented the story about Chuck being ill on impulse, certain that Chuck would be back sooner than later, and Raphael had gone along with it because, being twelve years old, Raphael was not yet old enough to question Michael’s judgement. It is now an awkward point between them.

Adam soon becomes another.

Michael regularly checks in to see how Adam’s getting on, in a way that Kevin assures Adam is entirely appropriate, since Michael is under the impression that Adam is going to be a fellow monarch someday, and is likely trying to be courteous. Adam inherently feels somewhat flustered around Michael though, which is not helped by the fact that Michael is somehow always present whenever Adam puts his foot in his mouth socially. On more than one occasion, he’s thankful that almost no one has actually been to his homeland, allowing Adam to blame an astonishing number of fuck ups on cultural differences.

Michael and Adam’s early one on one interaction are intensely awkward. Adam will forget to wear gloves, and then Michael will comment that Adam’s hands are oddly devoid of callouses for someone who’d practically been raised with a sword in his hand, leaving Adam to scramble for some flimsy excuse about hand cream. Adam will inquisitively ask questions about what sort of illness would be severe enough to leave someone bedridden for a decade but not kill them in that time (Kevin frantically motioning over Michael’s shoulder to convey that that is NOT the right way to fish for details on such a sensitive subject), and Michael will struggle to find an excuse around the quietly bubbling panic, because he hasn’t had to try to explain anything about his father since that first year, and he is not a particularly gifted liar.  

And then there’s Raphael.

Unlike Michael, Raphael is suspicious of “Dean” right from the start, pulling Michael aside to point out things that don’t seem quite right according to what their informants have told them about Dean Winchester.

“Doesn’t he look a bit young?”

“Some people look younger than they are, Raphael.”

“I was told Dean Winchester had dark hair.”

“Dark blond is dark.”

“Aren’t his eyes supposed to be green?”

“They’re obviously blue.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

The forty days come and go with Adam and Kevin nervously waiting for some sort of sign from home. Roughly two weeks later, a messenger arrives with unexpected news for Michael’s court: the Campbells have officially broken ties with the Winchesters in a violent bid for power that has left the kingdom at war with itself.

According to Kevin, the civil war has probably slowed things down a bit, if it’s as bad as the rumors say. . .

Adam and Kevin are stranded.

“Don’t worry though—I know Dean, and he knows our necks are on the line. He’ll keep out of sight until they manage to get us out of here.”

Adam finds it difficult to put faith in the virtues of a brother he’s never met, but doesn’t have it in him to question Kevin’s faith. He worries about his mother, who might have been safe in the countryside, but also might have made the trek to the capitol when it came out that Adam had been abducted for the sake of persevering the royal family's throne. He can’t be sure.

And to top it off, Michael takes to stopping by Adam’s room every couple of days to privately talk about the movements of the various factions—who has been sighted where and in what condition, where they’re rumored to be headed. Adam interprets it as an attempt to shake out inside information. One day, Adam finally tries to set him straight by saying it doesn’t matter how many ugly details Michael throws at him, Adam can’t help him because he doesn’t know anything—and is promptly put to shame when Michael looks at him in surprise and says, “You misunderstand. I assumed that you would want to know these things, because they are your family.”

Michael leaves, and Adam’s guards exchange a look. When asked, Samandriel awkwardly tells Adam that the royal family used to have a fourth child. Gabriel. He was lost during Lucifer’s insurrection. Pirates overtook his ship. They’d never received a ransom. Michael had purportedly offered a standing reward for any news of Gabriel, and put an unwise amount of resources into searching for him until it threatened the war effort.

Adam and Michael start talking more frequently from there, starting with an apology on Adam’s part. It’s tricky at first, because Michael starts out asking questions about Dean Winchester's military exploits—it is the most likely common ground between them, after all—and Adam has to hastily change the subject every time. By the two month mark, they’re talking affably, and rumors start to circulate through the courts as Michael's routine check ins on Adam start getting less formal and more frequent.

On the four month mark, rumors get even worse. Raphael finally sits Michael down and really gets into all of the things about “Dean” that don’t add up, item by item. If he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know anything about his country’s military exploits, he’s far too convincing given his reported record, and Raphael has it on good authority that more than half of those “cultural differences” in etiquette that keep cropping up are completely unfounded—and look here, three different informants have sent lists of Dean Winchester’s physical characteristics, and the foreign prince DOES NOT MATCH.

“Michael, something is not right here.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him about it now.”

And Michael storms off to address “Dean,” while Raphael calls after him that he should wait until morning. Because it is the middle of the night.

Adam just happens to be up reading. Michael’s familiar with the book. Michael gets distracted, and they talk all night. The sun’s coming up when Michael finally leaves, and a servant happens to see him slipping out of Adam’s room. Suggestive conjectures promptly follow, and Raphael exasperatedly admits they only have themself to blame.

And this only gets worse, because now Adam and Michael have transitioned into being friends. No more guarded conversations where one is convinced the other is about to catch them in some sort of lie. When Raphael mentions that some of the lesser nobles are starting to think Michael and Adam are courting, Michael’s fidgeting is not at all lost on them, as Michael assures them that of course that isn't the case. He and Dean are merely establishing friendly relations that will serve them well down the road politically—

“After the war is over?”

“Of course, after the war is over.”

Adam’s been stranded in the Shurley court for almost a year by the time that he finally slips into his room and sees a sealed message set out on his bed. Adam doesn’t recognize the insignia as belonging to either the Winchesters or the Campbells, but it’s signed with the initials “SW” at the bottom. It mostly contains a lot of vague phrases that make Adam wonder if he was supposed to be versed in some sort of code. As far as he’s concerned, the only important information comes at the end: Kate Milligan has been safely relocated for the duration of the civil war.

Relieved, Adam goes down to dinner, where some sort of seasonal holiday is being celebrated, and has a bit more wine than he normally would. The Shurley court is one of those stuffy courts where seating is stiffly dictated by tradition. As a foreign prince, Adam’s assigned seat is at the same table as Michael, although, according to Kevin, his placement's much further down due to his being a hostage. After a few drinks, and after most of the nobles have cleared off from the table to talk and celebrate elsewhere in the hall, Adam sees no reason not to get up and relocate down the line of chairs to sit closer to Michael. It was against the rules, but Adam was aware enough not to sit in Raphael’s empty seat, and he’d been seen with Michael so often that Anael and Samandriel barely even blinked, because Adam obviously wasn’t about to attack their prince or anything.

However, it is worth noting that while talking to Adam, Michael consumes a decent amount more wine than he would normally have as well.

Later that night, Michael’s walking Adam back to his room, and he starts to comment that Adam seems happier than usual. But even when sober, Michael would struggle to say something like that—if he’d even attempt it while sober—and Adam winds up biting his lip as he watches Michael’s mounting embarrassment, as a simple compliment inexplicably morphs—words seemingly forcing their way out as Michael tries and utterly fails to stop them—into a compliment about how Adam is beautiful—that is, he’s always beautiful—that is, Michael can’t help noticing Adam most days—that is. . .

. . .Michael is adorable. And in a moment of pure, thoughtless impulse, Adam leans in and kisses Michael right there in the corridor.

Michael is profoundly shocked, and his reaction delayed. Adam had only gone in intending to briefly press his lips against Michael’s, but as he’s pulling away Michael abruptly leans in and reseals the kiss, and Adam in turn takes that as an invitation to pull Michael closer. And a few minutes later, Raphael happens to walk down the hallway and find the two of them enthusiastically kissing against the wall.

And Raphael promptly turns around and goes back the way they came, only stopping at one point to flag down a servant and order them not to let anyone else walk down that particular corridor for at least an hour, hoping that Michael and Adam’s “friendly relations” wouldn’t result in anything too inappropriate.

As it happens, nothing particularly inappropriate happens. Nonetheless, Michael still wakes up the next morning, fully clothed in his own bed, in panic because the first thought to distinctly make its way through the ungodly pain in his head is that he’d taken liberties with a guest the night before. The heir to a foreign power at that, a peer, a hostage! Michael never thought he was capable of something so dishonorable--he’d had Dean pressed up against the wall as if they were a couple of ill-bred urchins, and how does one even go about apologizing for something like that?

(Of course, if Michael were thinking clearly, he might have remembered that Adam had actually been the one to back himself up against the wall, with Michael obligingly following along, quite malleable to whatever positioning Adam wanted so long as Adam kept kissing him.)

Michael’s behavior was beyond unacceptable. If his father hadn’t already abandoned them, he’d likely disown Michael out of pure shame. There was no telling what kind of damage he’d done to the relationship between their kingdoms. At best, Michael’s uncouth actions would be a dirty secret between them in the years to come, after Dean married, and Michael was left barely able to look Dean’s spouse in the eye. If Michael were a lesser noble, his parents might demand he married Dean outright.

And suddenly Michael sat up in bed, realizing he could marry Dean. His mind begins racing, because of course he could marry Dean! It made perfect sense. They enjoyed each other’s company, and with both of them being heir to their respective kingdoms, their union would effectively end the war. It might be complicated—especially given some of the odd customs Dean had introduced to Michael’s court—but marriages had been used to cemented alliances often enough, and the thought of marrying Dean elicited a curiously hot feeling in Michael’s stomach, remembering the way Adam had pulled him close the night before.

(Fun fact, England and France actually did try to do this with the Treaty of Troyes in 1420; it did not go as planned.)

Michael goes through the rest of his day in an uncharacteristically upbeat mindset, because now it all seems to just be a matter of organizing things, and he is good at organizing. He would have to write to either John or Mary Winchester as soon as the situation in their kingdom settled, and formally ask for Dean’s hand, and he and Dean should have a chaperone present at all times moving forward to avoid scandal--though there would be no way to sidestep scandal altogether, of course. Adam was still technically Michael’s prisoner. 

More than likely, the Winchesters or Campbells would demand Michael relinquish his claim to at least half of the territories that they’d spent the last few decades fighting over, but that would be fine. It’s traditional in Michael’s country to give gifts to one’s in-laws, and Dean is a future monarch. Anything too little would be insulting, and all would be consolidated eventually when Dean and Michael assumed their respective thrones. . .

Michael is still walking around delightfully living in his own head when Raphael pulls him into an empty room to discuss what they witnessed the night before. While not the most shocking scenario they could have imagined, they were not expecting to hear their brother announce that he and Dean Winchester would be getting married.

“And how are we to explain away our father’s absence during the proceedings, Michael?”

Michael’s good mood promptly withers. Because of course Chuck would be expected to play some part in arranging his son’s wedding. Ill or not, at the very least, he would be expected to make an appearance at the wedding. To have no part in it at all would be suspicious, not to mention rude.

While Raphael intended to snap Michael back to his senses, they had not meant to shake Michael into an immediate depression. They try for a gentler tone.

“You know, Michael. Our father has been gone for over a decade. He left no formal plans, he's sent no word. By any standard, he's abdicated. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to introduce a political marriage. Perhaps we should consider your assuming the kingship, and then come back around to formalizing your relationship with Dean—”

Michael, of course, is against this. Because their father is alive, and he will come back, and it will not be to find that another one of his sons had greedily tried to usurp the throne.

Seeing Michael about to fall back onto a familiar tangent, Raphael chooses the lesser of two evils and takes the conversation back to “Dean.” They ask which out of the two of them proposed to the other.

Michael abruptly realizes that he's forgotten something.

Meanwhile, Adam starts his morning on a much happier note. His headache is less punishing than Michael’s, and while feeling the normal amount of embarrassment that comes with drinking a little too much, the feeling does not extend to kissing Michael. His mother’s safe, he’s nailing his Dean impression, and Michael apparently likes him. Things could not be better. Until Adam remembers how the latter two items on that list are linked.

Michael is not like a classmate back home, who he could chat up, get a drink with, and maybe start seeing regularly if all things went well. Michael is, in fact, the acting ruler of one of the most powerful countries in the world, which just so happens to be at war with Adam’s, and under the explicit impression that Adam is similarly situated in the world.

Adam promptly begins freaking out.

And then Michael finds him.

Adam’s in the library at the time. Michael walks in and quietly dismisses Adam’s guards, and Kevin, leaving the two of them completely alone. Adam doesn’t realize what Michael’s doing right away, though he’s spent enough time with Michael to recognize how nervous he is as he starts talking about a proposal to end the war—selling the idea, as if Michael wouldn’t be enough on his own—and then sheepishly tapering into the idea that both he and Adam seem to have feelings for one another. And if Adam were able to go back in time and strangle his tipsy past self, he would, because then he wouldn’t have to see the look on Michael’s face when he says no.

And no, Michael does not understand.

Adam can hear years of living in the public eye at work in Michael voice, as he just manages to keep his voice level in asking, “Even if it would mean peace?”

"I'm sorry, I just—I can't."

". . .I see."

Michael excuses himself, and Adam collapses onto a couch, assuring himself that no was the only right answer, and he shouldn’t feel terrible—which, of course, since Adam’s spent the last couple of months flirting with Michael while posing as someone else, is not an easy idea to buy into.

Michael and Adam avoid eye contact at dinner, even as Raphael—who has zero doubts as to who initiated what the night before—practically burns holes into Adam’s skin with the looks they shoot down the table.

And then a messenger comes in. One of the wealthiest duchies in the kingdom (the same one that had once supported Lucifer, and of course would be populated with demon characters in the narrative) has declared its independence, having formed an alliance with the Campbells, and has launched an attack not far from the castle. Several villages have already been attacked along the way. Michael accompanies the armed forces he sends out to quash the uprising.

Raphael is left behind to fortify the castle and take in the refugees, who the messenger assured them are not far behind. Unlike Michael, Raphael rarely saw combat. Officially, it was because Raphael had adamantly insisted on training as a healer rather than a warrior, which was true enough. Unofficially though, Michael and Raphael are both fully aware that if anything happened to Michael, Raphael is the only one left to inherent the crown.

Samandirel and Anael escort Adam back to his room. Samandriel assures Adam that no one thinks he had anything to do with the duchy double crossing them, but it would probably just be safer for Adam to stay out of sight until things calm down. Anael is more closed-lipped about the situation.

From his window, Adam watches the first of the villagers come trickling in, and even from his vantage point he can make out burn wounds, makeshift bandages and hastily thrown together tourniquets, and he’s in hell, because it seems the only two options in front of him are to worry about Michael, or feel absolutely sick with guilt because he’s a trained physician and he should be down there helping.

Finally he pokes his head out into the corridor and asks if someone can find Kevin for him. Anael raises an eyebrow that “Dean,” who’s usually inordinately self-suffice for a prince, is suddenly insisting that he needs to see his manservant, but Samandriel is already helpfully heading down the hall. A few minutes later, Kevin is in Adam’s room, confused, as Adam asks him to take off his clothes.

“You can have mine, just switch with me, okay?”

“Uuh. . . Don’t you think mine will be a little tight on you—”

“Less talk! Strip!”

Michael had probably errored in assigning the same two guards to watch over Adam. After a year, the three of them had gotten to be on fairly familiar terms. Adam waited until Samandriel started to get chatty, and slipped quietly out of his room when Anael was distracted—neither of them having had any reason to think Adam would try to escape, because he had been nothing but compliant since the day he arrived.

From there, he goes straight to the infirmary.

Raphael had set up tents in the courtyard to accommodate the high number of people in need of care. Adam was a year out of practice, but the atmosphere was still familiar to him, and he slipped into the chaos unnoticed. Raphael doesn’t notice him until they are well into the thick of things, and Adam’s as covered in grime and gore as anyone else present. Adam had just gone for more bandages and the two of them nearly ran into each other, and for a split second Adam thinks Raphael just might not recognize him until hand closes around his arm like a vice.

“What exactly are YOU doing here?”

Then Raphael notices the stitches Adam had just finished putting in for his latest patient—and Adam’s stitchwork is immaculate, not the clumsy, half-hazard work of a solider who picked up the mechanics of it over the course of their career.

"YOU did that?"

Adam starts to fumble out an answer, but they are interrupted because then Michael is being brought in. The fighting is over. Raphael and Adam promptly drop everything.

Michael has a concussion. He’s also been lightly stabbed. You know, just lightly. Needs stitches though. Raphael is adamant that Adam leave immediately, but Michael, who is delirious, sees Adam and absolutely refuses to let Raphael send him away. Raphael winds up patching Michael together while Adam—annoyingly, to Raphael—is sat next to him, holding Michael’s hand. Adam winds up sitting next to Michael all night, because it’s the only way to keep Michael from getting up and tearing his stitches like a feverish moron.

Initially, Raphael refuses to leave too, not trusting their brother’s suspiciously competent love interest, whose family was purportedly allied with the traitors who’d just attacked their people. There are still more wounded to tend to, however, and Raphael begrudgingly has to step away—making sure to leave orders that a guard be present in the room the entire time that Raphael is gone.

Little does Raphael know, Adam would have lowkey given a limb to have Raphael stay. Michael’s demeanor is a lot less closed off when he’s feverish and concussed. Shortly after Raphael leaves, Michael starts apologizing for proposing earlier, and Adam feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut. And as he’s lying there, looking at Adam’s hand in his, Michael starts saying things he would not normally blurt out—like that ending the war was not the main reason he wanted to marry Adam, because the last year has been the best he can remember, and it is entirely due to spending time with Adam—even if Adam was only there by obligation—and he would do anything to make Adam happy, even if they weren’t together—and Adam is just stuck there, highkey dying on the inside.

Then Michael sees his face.

"I apologize, you’ve already said you do not want to marry me, I should not have brought this up—”

Michael starts to get out of bed completely unconcerned about his stab wounds, and as Adam’s pushing him back down, the words “That’s not true!” just sort of. . .fly out.

Then Michael’s suddenly looking at Adam, and his face is suddenly very sober, and Adam can feel his own face turning red.

"That is, I. . ." Adam realizes, suddenly, that he’s fucked. Telling Michael the truth is somehow both the right and wrong thing to do at the same time, and Michael is definitely in no condition to hear it either way. “How about, if you still want to marry me when all this is over, then I’ll say yes?”

The next morning is a string of stressful events for Adam. Raphael shooed him out of Michael room at dawn, and Adam went straight back to his own. Kevin, Samandriel, and Anael had all been reprimanded for Adam’s escape, with the latter two being replaced as Adam’s guard under Raphael’s orders. His first interaction with Ishim and Maribel does not bode well for them becoming friends.

When Adam tells Kevin that he’s thinking about coming clean to Michael, Kevin panics. News from the Winchesters had dried up weeks ago, even for Michael and Raphael’s sources. Kevin argues that they’d be better off attempting to escape on their own if the charade was getting to be too much for Adam, especially after last night—but even then, they should wait awhile longer. Why take any chances right now? And Adam doesn’t know how to go about explaining the why. . .

And it gets taken out of his hands anyway, when they step out of the room and find that it’s somehow leaked that Adam and Michael—who had completely misunderstood what Adam meant by “when all this is over”—are engaged.

Kevin doesn’t get another moment alone with Adam to discuss how stupidly dangerous this whole situation is, and Adam, no matter how hard he tries—can’t seem to get a moment alone with his fiancé to try to explain that the situation is not what he thinks it is. Everyone had vastly underestimated how far the rumors about Michael and Adam secretly courting had gone, and Adam can barely take three steps without a noble or courtier or someone pulling him aside to offer their congratulations, and as Adam gets closer to Michael’s chambers, there’s Raphael, circling like a shark and Adam does not want to make his confession to Raphael before he sees Michael.

Come dinner time, Adam finds that his seat had been reassigned. He now sits directly to Michael’s left. He keeps trying to convince Michael to step out into the hall with him for a second, while Raphael, seated in their normal place to Michael’s right, continuously circumvents him, firmly believing that Adam has done more than enough in private.

Then there’s a scream. A servant comes running out into the dining hall, carrying a bloody knife. They run up to Michael—up until the guards step forward to stop her, but she’s not attacking. Instead she hands over the knife and says that she found in the corridor outside the king’s chambers. She had been worried, so she broke protocol and went in. The king’s bed was drenched in blood.

Adam looks over and feels a chill when he recognizes the same knife that had been included in the murder kit he found in his room on day one.

If Raphael had looked up, Adam had no doubt that Raphael would have read something in his face, but they didn’t get the chance to. Michael and Raphael are busy staring at each, the only ones in the room who know beyond any doubt that the implication could not be true, because there had not been anyone in that bed to assassinate in over ten years. Neither of them is given the chance to try to spin the knife’s implications in any direction, however. While the court is still reeling in shocked silence, a guard walks in—completely oblivious—and announces that a messenger has arrived with urgent news.

Adam looks up, and finds he has room to panic more, when he sees Anna Milton walk in, a serving maid in the Winchester court, and as she drops a curtsey to Michael, she identifies herself as one of Raphael’s spies. She had held her place in the Winchester court for as long as she could, but when her real identity had been uncovered she’d had no choice but to flee, and she’s come with monumental news. The civil war across the channel has ended, the Campbells having been forced to seek asylum with their allies outside the kingdom, John Winchester deposed, and Dean Winchester installed on the throne in his place. She had witnessed his coronation herself the very day they identified her.

And Adam feels very cold, as if his blood had actually managed to turn into ice, which would have explained why he couldn’t seem to move, as every eye in the room immediately turns to him.

 And that would be the end of part one.

#midam #adam milligan #supernatural michael #samandriel #supernatural raphael #anael #kevin tran #my thougths #i'm very tempted to throw jack in a joan-of-arc-inspired role

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Eleven

I... about 75% of this chapter was not in the outline, and I don’t really know what to do about that fact. This completely ran away from me, but that’s ok I guess.

Characters, as always, belong to the amazing @lumosinlove and a huge thanks again to @donttouchmycarrots for proofreading!! <3

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: hospitals, injury, brief mention of blood, medical drugs

.

Leo slept. A lot.

Logan knew this was normal; their nurse had reiterated it a few times now. When he did wake up, it was only for a few dazed, confused minutes before he was pulled back under again. The confusion ebbed the more time went on, the effects of anesthesia wearing off, but the dull sheen to his eyes remained. He could fight his way through a brief conversation with him or Finn, and then he was back to sleep. It was probably for the best, Logan told himself. Better than dealing with their present situation, at least.

Finn was curled up uncomfortably in the chair beside him, also sleeping. He normally looked peaceful when he was asleep – lips slightly parted, face relaxed, on his side or stomach with one hand usually shoved under his pillow. After about a week of sharing a hotel room and a bed, Logan knew these things. It wasn’t the same now. Granted, he was in a chair instead of a bed, but still. He was curled up somewhat in a ball, with the leg in a brace stretched out and immobile – an awkward position that almost made him look like a flamingo balancing on one leg. His shoulders were tense, even in sleep, and his jaw was clenched tight. A worry line was furrowed between his eyebrows, steadfastly refusing to smooth out. Logan brushed his knuckles faintly against the bruise on his cheek, plum against porcelain, and sighed. He knew he should be doing the same thing – sleeping, that is – but every time he closed his eyes… well. It wasn’t pretty. Besides, someone needed to keep an eye out. There was only so long the nurse could delay the GSW report.

It was only a matter of time before they were on the run again.

Regulus drifted in and out on occasion, checking in on them. He seemed to be on guard, constantly walking the perimeter of the hospital and keeping an eye out for familiar faces. It put Logan on edge and calmed him down at the simultaneously. He didn’t trust Regulus, not really, but he figured if he was going to sabotage them he would’ve done so already. He’d had ample opportunity, after all.

Logan glanced at the clock. They’d been here for just shy of twenty-four hours now. The sun was starting to rise again, not bringing any answers with it. Loops had been in contact, briefly. They’d received one text message that simply said “stay put” and radio silence after that. He just hoped they had a good plan. Even better if it was safe, too, but Logan wasn’t about to push their luck… if you could even call it that.

For now, this was ok. They were together, they were alive, and they were relatively safe, for now. In that moment, listening to the steady beeps of a monitor and muffled conversations of people in the hallway outside their door and the even breathing of his partners, he couldn’t ask for much more.

***

Nate saw the scowling, intimidating group of people in the lobby and knew they were in trouble.

He had just started today’s shift, still tired from the one the day before, and was in the process of saying his usual hello to the staff working the front desk when he saw them. There were three of them – at least two of which were over six feet tall, looming and muscular and intense. One had a scar traversing down one side of his face, healed but still a beacon that screamed “don’t mess with me”. The short, scary one was right.

He’d submitted the GSW report about ten minutes ago, and here they were.

Fuck.

Nate didn’t even say goodbye to the sweet lady working the desk that day, he just backed away slowly and tried to appear normal as he pushed past the doors. As soon as they closed he broke into a run, headed straight for room 308 and stopping by the nurse’s station for a split second to grab two prescriptions before he was off again. He was almost there when he crashed into someone as he rounded a corner, only avoiding hitting the ground by two arms that snaked out to steady him. He looked up to gray eyes and a vaguely familiar face.

“Sorry.” The guy said and let go of him, frowning when he saw what was no doubt a look of panic on Nate’s face. “You ok?”

He remembered this guy now. He was with the scary short guy and the other two. He wasn’t around much, but Nate had seen him a few times when he’d been making his rounds.

“They’re here.” He blurted, hoping that he didn’t need so say anymore.

He didn’t. in the blink of an eye he was leading the way to room 308 and throwing the door open, which Nate didn’t think was the best idea. He didn’t know what these people did for a living, but it was clearly dangerous. Barging in like that probably wasn’t a good move.

Sure enough, when Nate followed Gray Eyes into the room, the short one was on his feet and had pulled a gun from somewhere, aiming it at the two of them. Gray Eyes stuck his arm out and kept Nate from going any further until Short Angry One recognized them.

Nate used to think this was a relatively safe career path. Sure he might get puked on, yelled at, mentally and emotionally eviscerated by doctors and patients and family members alike on a regular basis, but he’d never felt like his life was in danger.

Maybe he should go into accounting. Just him in an office with a bunch of numbers. Or a museum curator, surrounded by ancient artifacts and not much else. Definitely not people pointing guns at you.

Both the redhead and the blond woke up at the disturbance, one sitting up in a flash and the other just blinking sleepily and frowning in concern. Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Gray Eyes blurted out, “They’re here.”

The EKG readings on the monitor spiked, and then it was a flurry of motion. Short Angry One cursed under his breath and pulled Gray Eyes and Nate into the room fully, closing the door behind them. The redhead started throwing the few things they had into his pockets – a phone, some other electronic device Nate couldn’t identify, an old lock, a pen. He shoved his shoes on, unsteady on his feet, and looked to the blond, who was still in a hospital gown and watching with wide eyes. All the color that had been slowly returning to his cheeks was now gone.

Nate steeled his resolve. His job was to save lives, damnit, and that’s what he was going to do.

He jumped into action, pushing Gray Eyes out of the way and unhooking his patient from the monitors before discontinuing the IV drip and pulling the IV out, stopping the bleeding with quick pressure from his hand. “There’s an employee exit down the hall that leads to the parking garage. You guys know how to hotwire a car, by any chance? I’d offer you mine but I don’t have one.”

“I can.” Glaring down at his sling, the blond muttered, “Well. Maybe can is the wrong word.”

Nate let up on the pressure, shrugged his thin jacket off, and helped him slide his good arm through the sleeve, throwing the other side around his shoulder gently. It wouldn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing. “Can you show someone else how to do it?”

“Maybe.” He said, moving to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and frowning when Nate stopped him. “I can walk.”

Nate smiled. Typical. “That’s what they all say. I’m going to grab a wheelchair, anyways. You’ll be faster that way.” He looked at the others in the room and continued. “I’ll lead you to the exit, but I’m afraid that’s as far as I can take you. I’ll try to find these guys and get them off your trail as best I can.”

He shoved the two prescriptions he was so glad he’d filled last night at Ginger, trying to ignore the way all of them seemed to be staring at him. “Instructions are on the labels. He needs to finish all the antibiotics. All of them.” He didn’t have time to stress the importance of preventing antibiotic resistance, but he hoped they would take his word for it. “Let me go get-”

The door opened again and they all swiveled towards it. Ginger stepped between the blond and the door while Short One raised his gun again – but he didn’t shoot. In fact he just stared for a second, then lowered his gun with a smile.

“Loops.” He said, relieved, and – what?

The three men Nate had seen earlier were ushered into the room, the tallest one slapping the brunet on the shoulder, causing him to stumble as he flipped the safety of his gun back on and stashed it in the waistline of his pants.

The one in the front with caramel colored eyes looked between their group, one eyebrow arched. “Going somewhere? I thought I told you to stay put.”

Ginger laughed incredulously, shoulders slumping. “Holy shit, Loops. We thought you were someone else.”

Gray Eyes looked at Nate, exasperation clear in his gaze. “You told me they were here.”

Nate threw his arms up in defense. “You look at those guys and tell me you wouldn’t be suspicious.” He winced and looked at the newcomers, realizing that his words might be offensive. “Sorry.”

Neither of them seemed to take it to heart. The tall one just grinned and said, in a heavily-accented voice, “We still got it, eh, Nado?”

The one with the scar – Nado, apparently – just rolled his eyes and didn’t comment, but Nate could see one side of his mouth lifting into a smile. It softened his face, made him look more like a teddy bear than the scary, intimidating guy he’d seen in the lobby.

“We’ve got a car out back.” The one called Loops said, looking to the blond with gentle, understanding eyes. “You good to go?”

He nodded firmly, no room for second-guessing. “Let’s do this.”

Now, Nate didn’t exactly think it was a good idea to move a GSW patient out of a hospital only a day after getting shot, but – judging by how the others had reacted at the thought of people coming for them – it was safer for him to leave than to stay here. His brain, after all those years of medical classes and caffeine/anxiety induced all-nighters, was screaming in horror about complications and sepsis and bone fragments, but he didn’t voice them. He just reached for a pen and paper in his pocket. He scribbled his number down and handed it to his patient. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, ok? I’d feel much better if you at least had a nurse with you, but this’ll have to do.”

He got a warm smile in response. “Thanks,” he said, voice and eyes serious. “For everything. Not many people would do what you did for us.”

Nate blinked. “I genuinely don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but thanks?” He still didn’t know who exactly he was helping, but then again, he guessed it didn’t really matter either way. They seemed like good people dealing with a shitty situation, and that was a good enough motive for him. “I’m going to grab that wheelchair quickly and I’ll be right back.”

He should’ve known that, by the time he got back, they’d already be gone – leaving no trace except for the disheveled sheets on the bed, two chairs next to it instead of the standard one, and the still humming machines and monitors.

Nate let himself slump against the wheelchair, forearms resting against the handles.

“What the fuck,” he said, with feeling.

***

Sirius was behind the steering wheel of a very old service van, watching six of them pile into the back and Loops slide into the passenger’s seat. His eyes didn’t stray long from Regulus, though. If he’d had enough time, he would’ve tackled his younger brother in a hug. Unfortunately, they were on a bit of a tight schedule. “Petition to never have to break someone out of a hospital again.” He said wryly, putting the van into drive and searching for the exit to the maze that was this parking garage. All the while, he was sneaking glances in the rearview mirror, unable to help himself.

“Where do I sign?” Finn deadpanned from the back row, sandwiched between Logan and Leo. They looked so tired. Leo didn’t hesitate to twist in his seat a little so that he could lean into Finn’s chest and close his eyes, looking absolutely miserable. Finn shifted just slightly, pressing a barely-perceptible kiss to a bird’s nest of curls and relaxing back into his seat.

Huh.

That was… new.

But then again, was it? Sirius thought back to the past several months of this operation and found that he really wasn’t that surprised. But then there was Logan…

“Turn left here.” Remus said, pulling him out of the thoughts, calm and in control like usual. His lips turned up into a smile as he flicked his turn signal on. He could see them doing exactly this, when all the chaos was said and done. Taking a roadtrip, Sirius behind the wheel and Remus navigating, going wherever they felt like. No worries or missions, just the two of them and the black top below them. He shelved the daydreaming for later.

“Where are we going?”

Sirius’ eyes flew back to the mirror at his brother’s voice – the first time he’d head it un-obscured by a phone or earpiece in too long. He’d missed him. He’d fought so hard for him, to get him out of that mess and keep him safe, and here he was. They’d done it.

Was he a horrible person, for feeling as relieved as he did? He’d inadvertently put the Cubs through hell for mostly selfish reasons. Sure, he wanted to take the Snakes down, but that paled in comparison to the safety of his brother. He’d let the Snakes walk away scot-free if it meant Reg was safe.

He didn’t know what kind of person that made him – he was too afraid to speculate about it.

“My family has a cabin about two hours away,” Remus replied, balancing his phone with the navigation app against the center console so that Sirius could see it. “It’s empty right now, so it’s a perfect hideout until we figure out next steps.”

Finn was asleep now, too, head pillowed on Leo’s. Logan stared sightlessly out the window beside them, stonily silent. Sirius ached for him. They were kindred spirits, he and Logan. Stubborn, fierce, bleeding hearts who cared too much and shouldered more than their fair share of the responsibility when things went wrong.

And things had really gone wrong.

“What are the next steps?” Reg asked as they left the city and headed towards the interstate. “This isn’t the only backup we’ve got, right?”

“Sleep,” Kuny told Regulus, not unkindly, “had big couple of days, yes? Plan later.”

Reg looked at the tall Russian sitting next to him for a second, then sighed and turned his gaze to the window.

Sirius drove on in silence.

Two hours and eighteen minutes later, he was pulling up on a gravel driveway to a quaint, two-story cabin. The jostling of the gravel under their tires seemed to wake everyone up, according to the grumbles and yawns Sirius could hear from behind him as he finally put the van in park. The doors opened and they were all climbing out of the van, stretching stiff muscles and groaning. The ones with bags in the trunk went to unload while Remus fished his keys out of his pocket and headed for the front door, bounding up the last two steps to the porch. He was equal parts glad and upset that they were here. He was grateful that the Cubs were safe now and that this cabin was so far off the grid that the Snakes wouldn’t find them. But bringing a bunch of coworkers to the place he went to escape work stuff… jeez. Not that he didn’t like his coworkers, but sometimes he needed a break from it all. Plus this place belonged to his family. Being here with anyone but them just felt wrong.

Remus opened the door, instantly on guard when he saw the kitchen light was on. Whoever was in there must’ve heard the door because Remus could hear the refrigerator door close, then loud footsteps headed towards them. His hand drifted to his gun and he cautiously flicked the safety off.

A head peeked out from the kitchen. All-too-familiar eyes widened excitedly. “Re?”

The safety quickly went back on. “Jules?”

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Their trip wasn’t for another week-

Remus’ younger brother beamed and launched himself towards him, leaping into Remus’ arms when he got close enough with an excited shout.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it this trip!”

“What am I – what are you doing here?” Remus shot back, tensing up when he heard footsteps behind him. “Your trip is supposed to be next week!”

“School got cancelled because of all the snow.” Jules peered around Remus at the gathering group behind him. “Who are they?”

“Jules?” The familiar voice of their mother called from down the hall. “Who are you talking to, honey?”

Oh god, this was something straight out of Remus’ nightmares. How the fuck was he supposed to explain all this to his family? The rest of their agents were supposed to drive up here tomorrow with gear and supplies and weapons for their final stand against the Snakes. That… there was no way to explain that. At all.

Fuuuuuuck.

Hope Lupin stepped around the corner, startling when she saw the crowd on her doorstep. “Remus?”

“I’m so sorry, mom,” he blurted, the words coming out in an unfiltered rush. “I didn’t know you’d be up here or else I would’ve-”

“Oh, nonsense. We’re happy to have you and your… friends.” She said sweetly, voice raising into an almost-question at the end. Remus, flying blind, said the first thing that came to mind.

“They’re work friends. And there’s a few more coming tomorrow, if that’s ok.”

“What happened to him?” Jules interrupted, wide eyes trained on Leo, who smiled faintly.

“Shoulder surgery,” Leo said easily, taking Remus by surprise a little at how easily he responded with a textbook spy tactic: tell the truth, but only enough to not raise suspicion. He technically wasn’t lying, either. It was harder to get caught lying when you technically hadn’t.

It seemed like the rookie was no longer a rookie.

“It was recent, wasn’t it?” Hope asked, eyes sharp with observation as she ushered them all inside. When Leo looked at her a little distrustfully and both Logan and Finn stiffened beside him, she sent them all a soothing smile. “I’m a nurse, I can tell.”

“About a day and a half ago.” Leo let her lead them to a couch and sat down, answering Hope’s questions calmly now, seeming to know she could be trusted. When Remus looked around again, he noticed that Sirius and Regulus were both absent, no doubt having a much-needed talk. He was struck with a twinge of worry, but pushed it back. He shouldn’t interfere. They needed some time alone to sort through things. Sirius would talk to him about it if he felt like it. Nado and Kuny were trying to sneak their way into the kitchen, looking for whatever smelled so good in there. For spies, they weren’t very subtle.

“What kind of shoulder surgery?” Jules asked, trailing after their mom. “Re had one a few years ago, too!”

Remus winced and shot Leo an apologetic look for his over-inquisitive brother. “Not quite the same, Jules.”

“All he does is sleep now,” Finn said teasingly as he took a step back and stretched out his leg with only a slight wince. “My jacket has drool all over it from the car ride here.”

Leo shot Finn an unheated glare as he sat up and opened his mouth to shoot back a reply when all of a sudden he went pale as a sheet, eyes dazed. Everyone in the room froze, looking at him nervously.

Finn was kneeling in front of him in a flash, Logan already holding his hand too tightly from his spot beside him. “Leo?”

The blond squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into Logan heavily. “Hurts,” he managed to grit out while Logan wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close, combing his fingers through a riotous mess of curls. He locked gazes with Finn and saw a different kind of pain from Leo’s, but identical to Logan’s, reflected there as he watched helplessly.

Maybe they should’ve accepted the risks and stayed at the hospital. They’d be sitting ducks there, but at least it wouldn’t be this. Logan would take the uncomfortable chairs and the nurse who talked too much and the stress over the heavy weight pressed against him, the shaky, too-measured breaths, the soulful brown eyes that matched his own.

It felt like all the decisions he’d been making recently were the wrong ones. It would be nice to not put his partners through pain because of his poor decisions for once.

Hope was by their side then, holding out a glass of water and two pills. Logan hadn’t even noticed Finn set the prescriptions down on the entryway table. “I think it’s time to take these now.” Leo refused to move from his current spot, but he took the pills and followed them with a quick drink of water. A muffled “thank you” was murmured into the material of Logan’s shirt, quiet and a little tense.

Hope just smiled sympathetically. “You’re probably going to get really sleepy in the next thirty minutes or so,” she continued, giving the three of them a look. Like she knew something. “So if there’s any conversations that can’t wait until the morning…”

Loops came by his eerie observation skills naturally, it seemed.

Logan looked to Remus and the others, hoping that all the planning could wait until the morning. They were exhausted. Surely they’d be ok without them for a few hours.

“Go get some rest,” Loops said gently, motioning down the hallway. “There’s a guest bedroom down there, second door on the left. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Finn made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as they reached the bedroom, muttering about how he’d needed to use the restroom since they’d all piled into the van. Leo toed off his shoes while Logan hovered, unsure if he should offer to help or not, his heart still in his throat. Leo just sent him a weary, affectionate smile. It tugged viciously at Logan’s heart and made him want to pull his partner close and not let go. Ever.

“I’m ok, sweetheart.”

He could’ve cried at the relief of hearing that nickname again. “You sure?” He asked, just to be safe.

Leo’s face was inscrutable as he cautiously sat down on the bed. “If I keep telling myself that… eventually I’ll start to believe it, right?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that, not at first. But he remembered the feeling from after missions that had gone belly-up, the few that he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of. The disbelief that somehow, after all of that, he was still alive and ok. It felt like trying to find his way through a snowstorm when all he could see was blinding, overwhelming white.

He wasn’t about to let Leo navigate that without a guide.

He sat down next to Leo and grabbed his hand, moving down to the pulse-point at his wrist and feeling tendons flex and shift under his fingertips. It beat, steady and strong, when he pressed down lightly. He knew Leo could feel it, too.

“You’re here.” Logan said simply. It was a tactic he used on bad days, when everything got to be too much. That little pulse, a sign of life and resilience. The two of them shared that now, that resilience and refusal to die that flowed through their veins.

Leo stared at him, eyes so soft and a hue that Logan wanted to engrave into his memory. “Logan,” he said quietly, right as Finn flung the bathroom door open again. His mouth was in the process of opening to tell a joke when he saw the two of them and snapped it shut again with an audible click, unsure of what to do next.

Leo shared a look with Logan and a conversation passed between the two, silent but apparently crystal clear. Finn couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement or anxiety dancing in his stomach, but either way he wasn’t sure he liked the sensation.

He had a feeling he knew what was coming. They’d been tip-toeing around this conversation for too long now, and they’d finally reached the tipping point. However this conversation went, he knew their relationship would never be the same, and that scared him. There was comfort in things known and familiar, after all.

This felt like hanging out of a perfectly-good plane and not knowing if the parachute strapped to his back was going to work or not.

But everyone who took the jump said it was worth it, in the end. Finn desperately hoped they were right.

“I think we should talk.” Logan said quietly, patting the open spot on the bed next to him. The dreaded words. No one ever wanted to hear those words.

Finn made his way towards them, too afraid to make eye contact, and sat down gingerly. Feet firmly planted on the floor, one hand braced on the bed, tense and ready to get up and take flight if he felt like he needed to. “We’re finally going to have this conversation, huh?” he asked with a fake laugh that fell flat, finally glancing up. Looking at the two of them, side by side and seeming to just know each other in a way Finn felt like he didn’t, he wondered where he fit into all of this.

If he fit in at all.

God, he hoped he fit in.

“Look,” Leo started, voice steady and resolute like he was getting ready to rip off the proverbial bandaid. It did nothing to calm Finn down. “Logan and I talked a while ago, about us. And, um – well, we want to be together. All three of us.”

Finn blinked once, twice. The words weren’t exactly computing, not after spending so long telling himself that this would never happen, could never happen. “Oh.”

“You had to know,” Logan said, sounding confused. “You had to know how we felt. None of us were exactly subtle.”

“I… I hoped.” Finn managed to get out before he got distracted by Logan’s soft touch against the curve of his cheekbone, creating his own constellations out of the freckles there. Finn let his eyes close and focused on the point of contact. He had hoped, even if he’d tried to stamp it out most days. He’d hoped and he’d yearned and he’d ached, and now – finally, unbelievably – he might be getting exactly what he’d wanted. “I knew how the two of you felt about each other, I just… wasn’t sure where that left me.”

“Finn…” He heard the sheets rustle as Leo scooted closer and opened his eyes again.

“Can you blame me?” Finn let Leo hold his hand and slot their fingers together, a painfully delicate motion. He stared down at them, noticing faint green bruising from an IV line and deeper, purple discoloration from that one time Finn tried to catch himself before he hit the ground after a brutal punch. They matched, in a sick, twisted way.

But they were both healing – skin stitching itself slowly back together and aches fading little by little. There was a poignant symbolism there, Finn thought, musing over the words he needed to say. Talking about the doubts and the hurt and the confusion surrounding the three of them might be painful in the moment, but healing would always follow, even if it took a while.

He was thrilled that they wanted him, don’t get him wrong, but that didn’t have the ability to just wipe away the hurt of the past week. “You seemed happy together, just the two of you.” He thought of the coffee shop and watching them from his table with June. Or the hotel room the next day, the stolen glances and furtive touches. “I didn’t want to get in the way of that, not if I wasn’t wanted.”

One of the other two made a broken sound; Finn wasn’t sure who it was. The hand on his cheek moved to his chin and Logan ducked his head to meet Finn’s eyes again, fierce and sincere – a combination that encompassed the very core of the fighter.

“I’ve wanted you since that crazy New Year’s party.” He said with conviction and Finn laughed a little at the memories.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Logan challenged, signaling a change in the winds. Finn could see the storm brewing in those green eyes. “We were partners. Adding a relationship to the mix would only complicate things.”

“So what changed?” Finn let his frustration bleed through, ignoring Leo’s squeeze to his hand. “You’re saying two completely different things right now and it’s confusing as hell.”

Logan bit back, voice suddenly loud and harsh. “You think this is how I wanted to fall in love?”

Leo and Finn stared at him. No one had mentioned love. Not yet, at least. Logan seemed to recognize the intensity of his words and his shoulders slumped, but he didn’t take them back. Finn wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or terrified because of it.

“It’s not supposed to be this hard, is it?” the brunet asked, voice a softer murmur. “Why couldn’t the three of us be normal and meet at, like, college or a coffee shop or something?”

Silence greeted him, heavy and suffocating.

“Because these are the cards we were dealt,” Leo said finally, looking between the two of them. “And yeah, it might be a shitty hand, but don’t you think it’d be worth it? After all that we’ve been through, choosing each other instead of letting the fear pull us apart?”

“Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

Leo shrugged his good shoulder at Logan’s words, a conscientious effort to keep the other side of his body completely still. Finn ached a little at the sight. “Love isn’t easy, not for anyone. It’s a choice you make, day after day.” Blue eyes the color of a cloudless afternoon sky were calm and free of conflict when he looked at them again. “I’ve made my choice. What about you?”

Finn stared at him for what felt like forever, then blurted, “Did you rehearse that or something? What the fuck, Nutty.”

The resulting smile on Leo’s face was a welcomed reprieve from the earlier storm, placid and radiant. How was Finn supposed to do anything else but lean over, cup his cheeks in his hands, and press his lips against that smile?

Leo kissed a little distractedly, like he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do first. The hand not caught in a sling flitted from auburn hair to fist in his t-shirt, then migrated lower to wrap around Finn’s back, long fingers splayed against his spine. But his mouth was soft and sweet against Finn’s, returning his kisses happily, and the combination of the two were just so Leo that Finn’s stomach swooped and his heart flopped in his chest.

He pulled back for air, an unfortunate necessity, and took in the sight in front of him. Leo’s eyes were still closed and that smile still graced kiss-swollen lips as he swayed towards Finn, clearly wanting more. Finn smiled too, irrevocably charmed, and kissed his cheek, his jaw, that cute little indent in his chin, then the curve of his smile again. He could never, not in a hundred years, get enough of this.

And then Logan met his gaze from beside the blond, eyes fond and warm as he watched them and ran his fingers up and down Finn’s thigh, the motion raising goosebumps on Finn’s arms – the air dense and volatile around them like the instant before lightning struck. Finn needed to kiss him, too. To learn the difference between the way he kissed to keep up pretenses on a mission and the way he kissed when he meant it. Finn kept Leo close with a hand on his waist and tilted Logan’s head up to kiss him, deep and intense. It was thrilling and a little wild; so different from kissing Leo, but just as captivating. Always unpredictable, the kiss morphed from charged to surprisingly, achingly gentle – a thunderstorm melting into a comforting spring shower. Finn was reminded of shoving the couch up against the wall nearest to the window during storms as a kid, watching the raindrops track down the glass, and the sound of the world going silent save for the wind and the thunder and the rain hitting the roof like the pounding of drums – a symphony just for him to witness. He sighed against soft lips and sank into the kiss, listening for the intricacies of this new, unknown melody.

The rustle of clean sheets, a hitch in breath followed by a deep exhale, the steady beat of the old clock hung on the wall, a hum against his lips.

Then Leo was leaning in to kiss Finn’s pulse-point, firm enough to bruise and tender enough to make Finn’s eyelashes flutter. Finn canted his head to the side, stretching his neck to give Leo more skin to claim, and pulled Logan in again. A duet shifting to a trio and slotting perfectly into place, patching the gaps in the music that Finn didn’t even notice were there.

This was worth it. It had to be. As much as it would kill him – or any of them, really – to love them and then lose them, that would still be better than not loving them at all.

They’d wanted this for so long now, all of them. Even with all the stress and hurt and doubt, Finn couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. For fuck’s sake, he was kissing Logan. It wasn’t part of a mission. And Leo was still pressing kiss after kiss to his neck because he wanted to. They wanted each other.

Screw panicking about losing them. Finn was done missing things because he was worried about things that might not even happen. It wasn’t something he could just will away or turn off, of course, but he could actively make sure he was living in the current moment. And right then, the current moment was making out with his boys in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

He loved the current moment.

The kiss turned to simply smiling against Logan’s mouth, delirious with contentment, so Finn broke away and pulled Logan in for a hug, then gently maneuvered Leo to join them, making sure his wound was well out of the way. They stayed like that for a long time, relaxing in the closeness and adjusting to the newness of all of this. And even though it was new, it was already something they were quickly getting addicted to. The string connecting Finn’s heart to theirs cinched tighter and pulled sharply. For the first time, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was no longer a painful reminder of what he couldn’t have, it was an exhilarating sign that were all irreversibly intertwined, both in each other’s arms and in this crazy mess that was their lives.

Leo interrupted the moment with a yawn, blinking sleepily. Finn smiled a little at the sight – he almost felt like he was doing too much of that in the past few minutes, but sleepy Leo was simply adorable.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Logan urged. It would be a tight squeeze, the three of them in that bed, but now they could cuddle and press close without pretending it didn’t happen the next morning. Finn sighed happily at the thought and headed for the light switch. The light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminated his way back to his boys, all soft and stretched out next to each other under a pale comforter. It was a much-needed reprieve from the chaos of their current situation that Finn was all to eager to take advantage of.

He watched as Logan propped himself up on one arm to look down at Leo, hand trailing through that tuft of gray hair and then tugging on it playfully. They shared a smile before Logan leaned down the rest of the way to kiss him, assured and familiar and unrushed. They’d done this before. The knowledge didn’t tear at Finn’s heart like it would have a week ago, because now he knew that they felt the same way about him. And he was falling for them, too. Watching the two boys he was half in love with already so comfortable and loving with each other? How was Finn supposed to handle all the emotions bubbling over in his chest? He crawled into bed next to Logan and flicked the lamp off, settling the room into darkness.

Logan settled in to sleep facing Finn and with Leo’s reassuring warmth behind him. His eyes closed and time slowed, a blessed mercy. The events of tomorrow felt years away in that still, quiet moment. But there was something prodding at the back of Logan’s mind – some strange, uncomfortable feeling that he could quite place, until he realized that everything was too still, too quiet. His mind flashed to the litany of “what ifs” that had looped in his brain like a mantra back in that hospital room and he rolled over quickly, shuffling over until his head was pillowed on Leo’s chest, far away from the bandages.

Thump-thump.

Leo’s chest rose and fell under Logan’s head as he breathed and Logan let himself relax, reaching blindly behind him until he found Finn’s arm and flung it over himself, loosely intertwining their fingers over his chest. Finn moved in closer to press against his back and tangle their legs together. He sighed before going still again, breaths deep and even.

And Logan finally, finally let himself drift off to sleep.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #remus lupin #sirius black #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: hospital #cw: injuries #cw: mentions of blood #cw: medical drugs

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I agree with your Jily thoughts but wondering if you could talk a bit more about it? Why did James bother wasting all that time chasing Lily? Was she just that pretty? Were they ever happy or truly in love? Why did she say yes? If the war didn't happen who would have Jily ended up with? I'd like to think someone like Andromeda (not her exactly, but someone from a pureblood family who held non racist values) for James and i dunno maybe a muggle for Lily? Considering muggleborns arent exactly set up for success and I cant see Lily being okay with living as a second class citizen

For reference, some heretical thoughts on James and Lily's marriage. Also some thoughts on James which include some thoughts on his relationship with Lily.

And you really want me to get flayed over the internet, don't you anon?

Well, I guess that's what I'm here for. So here we go, hopefully people very upset by this sort of thing have their anti filters up.

Why Did James Bother Wasting All that Time Chasing After Lily?

For what it's worth, especially when they're teenagers before real life sets in, I do think James likes Lily.

She's very pretty, which certainly helps, but she's also very driven, very smart, and seems to be very personable (though it does not seem as if she is close with many).

Lily has a lot of likeable qualities beyond just her face that James could be interested in.

That said, there's also her background. I think, especially for a young James in Hogwarts, Lily being muggleborn would make her very appealing.

By pursuing her, he is actively spitting in the face of the Blacks, the Malfoys, and pretty much name your smarmy pureblood family. More, Lily is... not the token muggleborn per se, but the golden standard.

She's pretty, very smart, achieves very good results, again is personable, and all around pleasant. She's the muggleborn that defies the rules and you can take to parties and say, "Wow, look how amazing muggleborns are!"

Compare her to Snape, who is a halfblood, comes from an abusive household, is impoverished, is not good looking, and is not personable.

Notice that James and friends torment the living hell out of Snape, but it's cool, they're progressive because James likes Lily.

And then there's also the challenge of it.

Lily keeps saying no.

Rather than get discouraged, this just encourages James, as it means he's not trying hard enough. James seems to be the guy who likes the chase, if he wasn't, then he would have given up years ago as you said.

Were They Ever Happy or Truly in Love?

I imagine there was a time when they were happy.

They did date shortly in Hogwarts and it must have gone well enough for the relationship to survive graduation. If it was unbearably awful they would have broken up with each other long before that point.

Now, do I think Lily knew the full extent of how much James and pals harassed Snape? No.

Do I imagine Lily had to put up with a lot of talk about how progressive James and Pals are because Sirius has an ACDC t-shirt? Yes.

Do I think Lily's life without Snape proved very bleak and she faced a bleaker future with prospects of unemployment and poverty? Yes.

Do I imagine that Lily got in the way of bro-time for James? Well, he probably made bro-time happen anyway, but she must have to some extent and I'm sure Sirius asked him, "Dude?! What happened to us?!"

But again, if they really were miserable together, they wouldn't have made it to graduation.

In love?

Well, it's hard to say, but I'm inclined to say no.

In Hogwarts they're too young, they don't know enough about each other. They might be riding high on puppy love, maybe, but that's not the same thing.

What we see outside of Hogwarts points to constant stress and hardship that would ruin even the most functional relationship. The small glimpses we do have into their marriage then (that James would run off while in hiding with the invisibility cloak, risking all of their lives, for no reason) is not good.

I imagine as the realities of being in hiding, of having a prophesied child, sunk in their relationship fell into complete disrepair.

If they were in love, I don't think love could survive that, at least, not with these two.

Why Did She Say Yes?

God, you people are going to kill me.

Well, first, Lily as a muggleborn has no prospects and after losing Snape she has no friends.

Lily's last few years of Hogwarts are desperately lonely, James seems to have toned it down and appears to be one of the few purebloods sympathetic to her, and he really seems to like her. He has never wavered in liking her once over many years.

He seems like he's changed.

Perhaps, she can give him a chance.

I imagine Lily at first tentatively agrees to go on a date, and he is charming and funny, so one date turns into two and then they're officially dating.

As for marriage.

... Yeah I just have to say it, shotgun wedding.

They get married and have a child very quickly, and granted, that seems to be the norm in the wizarding world but remember their circumstances.

Both Lily and James are active fighters in Dumbledore's illegal vigilante group, neither appears to have a career (James being old money doesn't have to but I imagine Lily tried (and failed) to find one).

Lily is muggleborn. I don't care how progressive James' parents are, as the heir of a very wealthy and established pureblood family I'm sure they looked at this red-headed muggleborn without a galleon to her name and just died of a heart attack.

True, James was their only child and the product of many difficult years conceiving, and he's from a more progressive family but...

I just see the Potters and many other of the 'lighter' pureblood families having more of the philosophy of "Muggleborns should absolutely go to Hogwarts, get an education, and have a place in society. But don't invite them over for dinner."

That James is allowed to marry Lily very quickly, with seemingly little fuss, with seemingly no obligation of turning down a previously arranged marriage (though the surviving Marauders could have left out such details when recapping things to Harry), and how quickly Harry is born in the times he's born in...

Shotgun wedding.

If the War Hadn't Happened Who Would James and Lily Ended Up With?

Well, I think the shotgun wedding would have happened regardless. But let's say that's not in the books and that there's not a war disrupting things either.

I imagine the relationship doesn't work out as they realize they have different interests and are too different of people. There's very little tying them together.

James likely marries whoever his parents arrange for him to marry. A daughter of a well-to-do established, pureblood line. Which of these women this would be is anyone's guess, but somebody. Probably not any of the Black sisters as they're already accounted for.

As for Lily, I imagine she remains single for a good while. Everyone she knows in her age range is from Hogwarts, this world is very small, and she's probably not going to end up with any of them for the issues you list.

Purebloods really don't get it. The closest are... Arthur Weasley. And when he and Sirius Black riding motorcycles are the closest your culture gets to respect, you're in for a rough dating scene.

If she does end up in a relationship it's with somebody outside of canon or non-obvious.

(And look at me not plugging my ship because I know it's ridiculous. Be proud of me readers.)

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #harry potter shipping #james potter #anti james potter #lily evans #james/lily #anti james/lily #meta #headcanon #shipping #opinion

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none 

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work. 

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work. 

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with. 

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!” 

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?” 

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that. 

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa. 

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant. 

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.  

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold. 

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much. 

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?” 

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.” 

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.  

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.” 

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis. 

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!” 

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back. 

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”  

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof. 

HOOPER PRINTING CO. 

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like  her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana. 

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them. 

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course. 

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on. 

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.” 

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess. 

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly. 

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.” 

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly. 

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment. 

“About a week,” she replied. 

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.” 

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left. 

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.” 

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.    

*

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest. 

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper. 

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him. 

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved. 

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant. 

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job. 

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.  

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean. 

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing. 

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say. 

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?” 

“I will.” 

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park. 

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly. 

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there. 

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help. 

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.” 

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust. 

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.” 

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves. 

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?” 

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?” 

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.” 

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous. 

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur. 

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head. 

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.” 

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth. 

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was. 

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom. 

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?” 

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again. 

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights. 

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark. 

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.” 

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips. 

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.” 

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.” 

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…” 

“Y/N.” 

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions. 

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him. 

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said. 

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back. 

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him. 

*

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again. 

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin. 

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?” 

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes. 

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work. 

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.” 

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment. 

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor. 

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up. 

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.” 

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning. 

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin. 

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed. 

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going. 

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face. 

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response. 

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away. 

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer. 

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer. 

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning. 

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful. 

 *

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen x fem!reader #alex jatp

[boyfriendsmalec]

Day 9: Family -- @cherrymagic31​

The other side of the bed was cool. Kurosawa’s fingers curled into the sheets, eyes slowly blinking open when he couldn’t find Adachi’s warmth in the dark. His eyes still felt heavy, exhaustion weighing in the back of his mind, but the staticky sound of the baby monitor on the end table quickly alerted him to Adachi’s likely whereabouts. He had a vague memory of Adachi leaning over to kiss him, murmuring that he’d be right back.

A light humming echoed over the small monitor. 

A smile rose to Kurosawa’s face.

Adachi really was the perfect father.

Kurosawa knew he should try to fall back asleep, he had a morning meeting that he absolutely couldn’t miss, but he couldn’t help but swing his legs out of bed. 

He padded down the hallway in his house slippers, their son’s nursery door propped open. The room was lit by a soft night light, illuminating the room in its rich golden glow. Adachi sat huddled in a rocking chair holding a tiny yellow and blue bundle. 

Hiro’s face was tucked into Adachi’s chest so all Kurosawa could make out was his small tuft of black hair. And Adachi, well Adachi was breathtaking as always, even in his drowsy, sleep deprived state. His eyes were shut as he continued to lightly hum some sort of lullaby that Kurosawa couldn’t quite make out, his arms shifting ever so slightly to rock Hiro, whose soft cries became small gurgles of interest.

Kurosawa never thought he’d have this.

How wrong he’d been.

~

The topic was first broached a few months after Kurosawa’s proposal.

“What do you think of kids?” Adachi asked one balmy April evening when they were curled up together on Kurosawa’s couch.

“What do I think of kids?” Kurosawa pulled back a bit to try to eye his boyfriend -- fiancé -- more clearly, unsure if Adachi was truly asking what he thought he was.

“Like, well, you know,” Adachi said, keeping his eyes downcast. “Do you want to… have kids one day?”

Kurosawa felt himself almost blackout for a moment.

“Kurosawa?”

“Sorry,” Kurosawa shook his head. He considered his words for a moment. He knew at this point Adachi wouldn’t run away from him anymore. He could tell him the truth. “I have. I’ve... thought about having kids with you.”

“Oh.” Adachi clearly hadn’t expected that answer, his cheeks darkening, a small smile playing low on his lips.

“How about you?” Kurosawa asked. “There must be a reason you’re bringing it up.”

“I mean, I-I’ve been thinking about it a bit now,” Adachi admitted. “Whenever I see a little kid in a restaurant or at the park. I wonder what it’d be like to maybe have kids one day. But the thing is, I never used to really think about it. like at all. Not until you.”

Not until you.

How could Adachi say things like that not expecting Kurosawa to have a full-on heart attack? Kurosawa literally felt his heart seizing in his chest, overcome with his love for this wonderful man before him. Truly all his waiting for Adachi had been worth it. Every single second. He wouldn’t undo a moment of it.

“You want to have a family with me?” Kurosawa asked, his voice cracking a smidge, unable to keep his emotions fully in check. Not now.

“We’re already a family,” Adachi said, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“...What?”

“We don’t need to have a kid to be a family,” Adachi said, a small, slightly bashful smile settling on his face. “I mean I already promised to spend the rest of my life with you, Yuichi. No matter if we have kids or not, you’re my family.”

God how Kurosawa would propose all over again if he could.

Then what exactly was stopping him?

“Marry me,” Kurosawa breathed out, bringing his hands up to frame Adachi’s face, his eyes jubilant and bright.

“Yes,” Adachi whispered, pressing his forehead against Kurosawa’s, his lips lightly skimming Kurosawa’s. “Yes, yes, yes.” The soft refrain continued to echo until Kurosawa finally closed the gap between their lips, dragging Adachi in deep.

“We could elope,” Kurosawa suggested between kisses, Adachi eagerly nodding before trying to pull Kurosawa back in, but at this point Kurosawa couldn’t stop his thoughts from pouring out of his mouth. “We could get married in Taiwan. Or if you want we could fly to Europe. Honeymoon in Italy or maybe--”

“Wanna practice for the honeymoon?” Adachi suggested, eyes alight, fingers flying up to the buttons on Kurosawa’s shirt, and well, from there things got a bit fuzzy--

~

“How long have you been staring at us?” Adachi murmured, eyes peeking open to eye at Kurosawa from the doorway, a small yawn escaping his lips.

“Just a few minutes,” Kurosawa whispered, not wanting to wake their son when he finally appeared to be drifting back to sleep. Kurosawa lightly treaded over, taking the bundle out of Adachi’s arms to press a warm kiss to the top of Hiro’s head. “My two favorite boys in one room.”

Adachi let out a small snort as Kurosawa grinned into Hiro’s hair. 

“I don’t think I can move,” Adachi groaned lightly as Kurosawa carefully placed Hiro back in his bassinet. “Maybe I’ll just sleep here for the rest of the night.”

“Want me to carry you to bed too?” Kurosawa half-joked.

“No, don’t want you to throw out your back,” Adachi said, shutting his eyes once more, head sagging to the side.

“Are you saying I’m getting old, Kiyoshi?”

Adachi’s eyes flew open. “What, no, I--”

Kurosawa couldn’t resist a challenge, lowering himself to scoop Adachi into his arms.

“Yuichi!” Adachi hissed. 

“Quiet, or you’ll wake our son,” Kurosawa whispered back, and Adachi promptly shut his mouth. 

Kurosawa grit his teeth slightly as he carried Adachi back to their room. It wasn’t often he carried Adachi like this, but he wasn’t about to give up half-way there.

“You better not actually hurt yourself,” Adachi said firmly, arms wrapped around Kurosawa’s neck.

“You underestimate my abilities,” Kurosawa huffed, hurrying his steps until he arrived back to their room, practically flinging Adachi on the bed, the momentum causing Kurosawa to fall down on top of Adachi.

“This is a familiar position,” Adachi mused, fingers raising to curl around Kurosawa’s shoulder, the metal of his wedding ring brushing against Kurosawa’s exposed skin. “Only this time I smell like baby spit up.”

“My favorite,” Kurosawa said dryly, as Adachi rolled his eyes, pushing Kurosawa lightly off of him. 

“Thank god I can sleep in now,” Adachi yawned, winding his arm around Kurosawa’s waist, bringing him in close as Kurosawa adjusted the blankets over them.

Many things had changed over the course of the past couple years. For one, they no longer lived in Tokyo. Neither of them had wanted to raise a child in the city. They didn’t move too far away though, close enough to visit their friends on the weekends with Hiro in tow in his little stroller. Close enough that Kurosawa still commuted into work.

However now Kurosawa only commuted in half the work week and worked the other half at home. And Adachi had left Tokoyawa a year ago. As much as Kurosawa missed seeing his husband at work, he knew it was for the best. Now Adachi could pursue his career as a mangaka. Two years ago Adachi finally managed to sell his first work, a little story called Cherry Magic, about two office workers finding love after one of them developed the startling ability to read minds. It’d done remarkably well, enough so that Adachi felt confident enough in finally quitting his full-time job to pursue his art.

It also meant he could be home with Hiro, though most days a sitter came over so Adachi could focus on his work. Some days Adachi’s mom even came over to watch Hiro for them. She’d been thrilled to finally have a grandchild, as were Kurosawa’s parents. While Kurosawa’s parents had initially been taken aback first in Kurosawa’s choice of partner apparently they hadn’t actually minded that Adachi was a man at all. Instead they were more concerned about whether or not they would be able to have children easily.

As luck would have it they were blessed with Hiro only a year after signing with the adoption agency. 

“Kiyoshi?” Kurosawa softly whispered as Adachi’s eyes drifted closed.

Adachi responded with a soft hum.

“Thank you for being my family.”

Adachi’s eyes cracked open, a breathtaking smile crossing his face. 

“Thank you for being mine.”

And Kurosawa wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fanfic #cherry magic fanfiction #kurodachi #kurodachi fanfic #kurodachi fanfiction #my fic #kurodachi as dads just makes my heart SWOOP let me tell you!!! #but they're still family even without a child!

[nightswithkookmin]

Hii, me again. 😅

Jungkook made a three syllable poem with "min yoongi" name. At the last name of "Gi" He made yoonmin. Is he try to expose that yoonmin is a thing/ or real??

Ahjumma.... why are you being like this?

What did I do to deserve this ghettory?😟 It's too early in the year to be this ghetto uno.

Don't be like that😒

You are asking me, Goldy- GOLDY of all shippers, if I think JEON JUNGKOOK is confirming his boyfriend of seven years and counting is in a relationship with another member within the same group...

Doing what exactly in that relationship??

Is JK cockholding? What's going on.

KWENCHANAYO?!

You think BTS will survive two members dating the same guy in the same group???

Never mind that it's Jeon Jungkook and Park freaking Jimin- Mr I'm greedy and Mr I don't share my friends.

Like make it make sense to me please😭

After everything we've been said on my blogs for months now, you still asking me this??

You are bold, I'll give you that.

Now tell me slowly and in coherent words why I shouldn't pull your hair and give you three quick punches to your throat- ninja style👀

Someone get her before I snap their neck💀

For the last time-

NEITHER 🤺OF🤺JIKOOK🤺 IS 🤺 WAS🤺 HAS🤺 HAD🤺 PURPORTS TO HAVE🤺 WOULD HAVE HAD🤺 COULD HAD HAD🤺 HAD HAD HAD🤺IS HAVING 🤺 ANY 🤺ROMANTIC🤺 FEELINGS🤺WHATSOEVER 🤺 DESIRE🤺CRAVING🤺 WET DREAMS🤺 YEARNING🤺 PASSION🤺ATTRACTION🤺 AMOROUS 🤺INTENT🤺TOWARDS🤺 ANY🤺🤺MEMBER🤺 IN🤺 BTS🤺BESIDES🤺 EACH🤺 OTHER🤺

GET🤺 OUT 🤺OF🤺 YOUR🤺 IMAGINATION🤺

If you are new to the shipping community I suggest you familiarize yourself with every ships dynamics or at least Jikooks- if multishipping isn't exactly your thing.

Jikook's entire dynamics is founded on JK teasing JM to death. It's their thing.

He's said he enjoys teasing Jimin because he loves Jimin's reaction to when he's being teased. In fact, the entire group have said same about Jimin.

Did you see JM's reaction to when JK called out the Yoonmin comment in the dynamite reaction VLive?

Did you see RMs reaction too?

He is trying Jimin with these Yoonmin jokes. He's gonna get stabbed. Lmho.

Jimin reacts strongly to when JK in particular teases him with ships, Yoonmin more recently. Yet he didn't seem to mind when V did it.

V used to be the biggest Yoonminer on the planet rooting for and encouraging certain interactions between Yoonmin. Lmho.

Jimin himself perpetuates Yoonmin as a ship.

It would be an insult on his intelligence for anyone to assume he didn't know exactly why people ship two people together or what interactions and moments is considered a moment in shipping sphere.

Statements like, why can't Suga hyung look me in the eye, why does he say I'm irreplaceable to him, insinuates something and he knows this.

Once upon a time, JK couldn't look you in the eyes too. Still can't sometimes.

Jimin has a presence and he has a hold on these men and he knows it.

He goes out of his way to create the impression he and Suga have a very close bond and dynamic- I'm sold on it. Lol.

'5 Jms? As expected. You'll fall in love with them' not sure if JM said the last bit in the BE.TS Vlive, yall check for me.

It's crazy then that he turns around to react the way he does when JK teases him with his ship with Suga.

It seems to me, Jimin knows the intent and energy behind such seemingly harmless jokes- JK can be petty and passive aggressive with these things. You'd think he is joking but deep down he would be pouting and throwing tantrums behind cams🤧

It's Jimin apologizing and looking like his spirit left his body as he sat on the edge of JK's bed in the new Jersey VLive for me.

He needs to free Jimin.

Talk of things I'm getting too old for- Let's talk about why he posted his version of the bridge in disease online🤧

Not to say he shouldn't have posted it. I support that he did wholeheartedly. Deadass found his groove since he started unbuttoning the front of his shirts in 2020.

He's reclaiming the spotlight, putting himself at the forefront unlike before where he'd resigned himself to a supportive role watching his hyungs be at the center of things.

Now he's been talking about that he wants have sexy dance performances like Jimin, write rap melodies for RM, share his own music, try on a solo career one day- we get it. You found yourself Mr I'm independent asserting myself yall better fuxk off but chilee not at the expense of Jimin! 🤺

I mean it's a broad spotlight and they both can share it but damn is someone changing drastically. Not sure if I should be proud or terrified.

It's great and amazing and I'm really truly happy with where he's at mentally and physically since 2020- it's a great sign, don't get me wrong. Significant improvement. His becoming is long over due but he didn't have to grab the spotlight from Jimin like that.

Jk vs JM isn't something I'm a fan of.

It's a shame it didn't work out? What do you mean JK. I'm sorry but Jimin's version is amazing too!😟

What the actual hell JK😭

Back it up. This is not how to Jikook🤺

On guard sir🤺 on guard🤺

Dude did Jimin dirty🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

I need a refund😭😭😭😭

Here I was waiting for y'all to get on your Jikook agenda and post that first Jikook selca of the year and you are there shipping Jimin with your bandmate and thiefing his shine. Who taught you that?!😥

Y'all are competitive but y'all don't compete with eachother's shine! JIKOOK 101😭😭😭

You share it😥

Show me where in the books this new development falls under. Show me

You winging it and it's unconstitutional😟

I rebuke it in Jesus name!

Someone beam me up.

You got these 13 year olds coming in my DMs telling me you are not supportive of your man's career.

I don't have time for this shit.

SOMEONE BEAM ME UP! Kirk!

If you've watched their Be behind video, and you've seen Jin talk about how RM complained to him when Tae chose Suga's version over his version you'd know where JK is coming from or where I think he is coming from having JMs version chosen over his.

Watch their Be self interview on yt too.

He said there's a melody he worked on for RM and when Jhope thought he got snubbed he recommended he release it instead- to quench his artistic drive perhaps.

That is why he released this song. He did it for himself. Like he said, he won't put out a song unless he was confident about it.

Suga have said time and again how the music and melodies they create never go to waste because they can repurpose it like he did with Telepathy I think.

Even JK explained he was reserving the melody he made for RM for a future group song.

He could have repurposed this or something.

When Jin talked about V vs JM's Christmas song and kept repeating how much he preferred Jimin's song to Tae's because Jimin"s was bright and upbeat, he made sure to clarify he wasn't implying Tae's song was bad. He was just indicating preference.

I won't lie, I was happy he preferred my bias's song but it made my VMin heart ache a little.

V and JM made very different songs, they shouldn't be compared to eachother in that way.

I don't like competitions. And I don't like when two artists are pit against eachother- which is exactly what these two versions of the bridge is doing out here.

I will literally die if in an interview JM is asked about his part and JK isn't. I can't do this😭

Those saying JM's is better make me sick, and those saying JK's is better make me nauseous. They both great. Point blank purr.

What's even more heartbreaking is hearing how excited he really was to share that bit with Army. Dude's eyes was glistening and everything. His bunny smile! 😥

Thats what makes this very hard for me.

The JJK in me is overjoyed and excited that he is doing things that make him really happy. I'm proud of him.

But the PJM in me just😕

I even feel more guilty that I prefer JM's version this time around😭😭😭😭

I feel like I'm betraying JK🤧

I was so happy seeing JM recieve all the love and attention I know he deserves.

Then here comes his boyfriend

'Hold up what about me!' Lol.

Imagine if RM releases the version of Blue and grey he made for Tae and it turns out we prefer that to the version Tae chose💀

Imagine that.

This has been a recurring theme throughout late 2020 to date. Jk's been choosing authenticity and self interests and passions over anything else and I couldn't be more happy for him.

Like we discussed, he's been learning to compromise too lately, which is great.

But honey this is a red flag. Deadass.

To me anyways😏

I've been a strong advocate for a certain level of independence and detachment in Jikook's dynamics because they lowkey exhibited codependency tendencies in their dynamics which is great for us shippers but not so great in the long run for their relationship or them as individuals .

Maybe I'm thinking out loud and prematurely here. I mean we are only beginning to have intimate access to their raw unscripted selves.

I don't think it's not that much of a big deal. RM and JM have equally shared their own versions of fake love on the internet but it is an interesting development in their dynamic to me.

I remember how happy JM was about his version of fake love, and it remains to date one of my favorite beats even though he was just spewing nonsense on that track. Lol.

He was so excited when he shared it with JK and Jin. He said when he showed it to JK the first time, JK said he loved it very much- how loving and supportive is that!

More of this please. Thank you.

PMS is a bitch y'all🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Has me in my feels about this.

I'm pretty sure JM is the one that even encouraged him to share his part in the first place. Won't put it past him.

'Ya Jungkook, release your version too'

'Army will love it'

'Right but I don't want it to seem like- Goldy is crazy you know'

'Goldy who now?'

'What about the thirteen year old fans-'

'Aht aht aht Who cares about them.'

Lmho.

I mentioned a few times on here how I felt JM seemed to have been demanding 'space' and a little bit of breathing room in their dynamic which was causing a little bit of tension here and there middle 2019 through to March last year and it all sounds like drama and speculation but...

May be if I told y'all I am a witch and my analysis of their relationship is based on mediums, phantom whisperers, empathetic readings or tarot cards y'all will leave me alone?🤥

Y'all don't seem to have a problem with the witches and empaths who be doing the same shit I do out here😒

Like we are all 'reading' these mens!

There's nothing wrong with 'psychoanalytically' evaluating a ship you know? Chilee.

Imma call myself a witch if it will get y'all off my back😹😹😹😹

I mentioned JK equally embarking on his own journey to assert himself within the group and within the relationship due to this?

But damn I did not see this one coming.

This is a red flag for me. And no, it doesn't mean they are broken up or having issues in their relationship.

Jk's TMI indicates they still been spending a lot of time together.

This is just a sign there's too much independence in their dynamic now- if you know what I mean.

Relationships flourish based on how attached we are to people- too much attachment is a problem, too little attachment is equally bad.

Jikook have always had a problem with over attachment in their dynamics in my opinion, to the point it was lowkey unhealthy- the jealousy, not being able to 'act professionally' within a group and work environment, having problems with being separated however briefly, constantly wanting to be where the other is etc.

Less attachment isnt necessarily a bad thing either. It means less of all the 'toxic' aspects of their relationship that over attachment brings but too much of that too can trigger anxiousness and insecurity and resentment.

Especially if one of them hates change. Cough Jimin.

With that comes all the wild aspects of love such as possessiveness, jealousy and I know JM doesn't do too well in that department...

In my opinion, I see JM as having a problem when JK breathes down his neck emotionally speaking, and at the same time he has a problem when he is too emotionally distant.

All this is interesting to me.

Who do I need to talk to to give me more of Jikook interactions individually or jointly?

I want to see more of their interactions beyond the overly staged, dramatized fanservice and official content.

Spending a lot of time around eachother and eating each other's ramen- pun intended, does not reflect on how intimate you are.

Intimacy requires depth and depth requires attachment.

How you treat eachother's needs and goals, dreams and desires is equally indicative of the intimacy in your relationship.

That has always been one distinctive quality of Jikook's ship.

And so I wonder the thought process that went into this decision. I know JM wouldn't object to JK sharing things like these or doing things that make him happy even if it has the potential to impact his own shine in any way.

Jikook don't compete against eachother.

I keep saying this.

Remember when I said I found it sus that JK was lying there staring at JM with his hands in between his legs?

Did yall see what the run editors said when JM and JK went up against each in the pool?

'Jikook don't play by the rules'

Jimin had to push JK in the water to end whatever ancient sex ritual foreplay rooted in kamasutra they had going on. Bless him.

And in so doing, he lost to JK.

Whenever they go up against eachother, one of them intentionally lose even though they are both very competitive.

Isn't that why JK said he'd rather 5 Jms so he can watch them compete against eachother?

When JK first made that post, I felt it was out of pettiness or a move to 'humble' JM.

I thought of when he'd posted that photo of himself with a hickey after JM had 'dated' him during the JinMinKook live.

I rolled my eyes and asked, 'what yall gays up to this time?' Why you out here humbling your man?

Anywho chilee we will never know.

At ease.

Signed,

GOLDY

[footballxwrites]

I have a nice one for you and hope you’ll like it🤍 so I remember seeing this one interview from Sonny where he says that he’ll only get married and have kids after his career is over so he can concentrate on one thing at a time and apparently that’s what his dad has told him to do as well. So maybe where you both have been together for a while and you’re turning 29 this year and are obviously thinking about kids, you ans Sonny are settled and stable so marriage can happen whenever. You bring up having kids with him and he says that maybe in a couple of years when he retires you can have a house full of kids and get married cos football is the priority right now. You tell him he can’t be so selfish and serious cos biological clock and everything and get mad cos you’ve been together since y’all were 12 and he hasn’t even asked you to marry him, like you can do a long engagement if he reallyyyy wants to get married later, but nope- not that either. It leads to a huge fight and you decide to call it quits. He’s constantly thinking about it and then comes to see you a few days/weeks later. You can decide the ending ❤️

Thank you for the request I loved it! x

“Soooo...I was wondering if you fancied making a baby?” you randomly spoke, snuggling into his chest, half joking at the sudden thought as he shook his head with a small laugh, “jumping the gun a bit there don’t you think” as you shrugged, “was only a thought...but would be nice don’t you think?”

“Yeah, maybe in a couple years when I retire” he winked, placing a kiss on your head as your heart sank slightly, disappointed filling you even though you were certain of his answer before you asked. “We’re 28 going on 29 this year and you know, getting on a bit now. Not to mention we’ve been together since the teenage years” you replied, dropping minor hints here and there just to let him know what’s on your mind, only for him to sigh, keeping his attention to the tv and humming along to your long line of questions.

“Would be nice if you would actually listen” you snapped your fingers across his eye-line making him jump slightly, “I’m serious! I want a family with you Sonny...now” you whined, sick of the multiple excuses he kept throwing back, “and I have a career that I want to focus on” he replied in a grunt, basically giving you the simple answer of a big fat no. “Trust me so do I, but I also want a family with you and to marry the absolute love of my life...and I’ll be dammed if I’m waiting till it suits you!” you began in a trembly voice, the disappointment striking you as you saw his face screw up with a shake of the head. “What do you mean suits me? You really think this is all about me, how are we, who work full time in case you’ve forgotten, supposed to look after a baby and give it the time of day? I want children with you, of course I do but not right now...” he said, cupping your hands in his as he gently squeezed them, wiping at your few fallen tears.

“And a proposal? What’s the reason for not getting that yet then? it’s not like we have to tie the knot straight away...for gods sake I’ll be happy to wait a few years to marry you if you’re after a long engagement” you sobbed, pouring your heart out as he stumbled over his lost words, “It never crossed my mind...” he trailed off, “but this is all too much to handle right now...in 2 years I swear I’ll be ready”

“Bullshit, I’m not waiting till then, for all I know you could turn around and say you don’t want any of it then” you laughed, fed up of going round and round in a single loop with him, there was absolutely no persuading him, “I will, I stick to my word” he softly smiled back as you unwrapped his warm hands from yours and walked towards the door, “I can’t be sure of that though Sonny” you gently sighed with a sleepy grin before disappearing out his view...

———————————————

From there it was just argument after argument, neither of you able to agree to disagree and clearly wanting different things in life meaning at this point it was more a stress than enjoyment in your loving relationship and it got to your last resort of splitting up. Everything seeming such a waste, all the years together forgotten, the memories fading and in the end all for what?

It repeatedly crossed his mind, all his trail of thoughts leading back to you one way or another, so wishing there was just a way to go back to that night, a way to just not seem as self centred and heartless as he was.

“Please- just give me five minutes” he said, putting foot in the door and showing you a sorry look to which you sighed, not in the mood to fight him for what would’ve been the eighth time in the past week, “and that’s all you’re getting” you narrowed your eyes, moving aside to allow him into the house of your parents, glad they were out otherwise he would’ve gotten a right bollocking from them. “I’m sorry-“ he began as you tutted in a sigh, “why should you be, all you did was make your thoughts clear”

“But I was wrong, well not exactly wrong more...scared” he said, awkwardly scratching his head as you relaxed your crossed arms, “of what?” you softly asked, edging closer to him as you met his gaze, “I’ve worked so so hard to get to where I am today and was brought up knowing to have no distractions in life, whether that was starting a family or getting married, and I’ve always stuck by that...but it’s different with you. I feel like I’m ready for that next challenge and I was very much wrong to say I wasn’t...so please, don’t give up on us yet” he professed, your mind still processing everything as you stood shocked, a happy shock, and a warm smile forming across your lips.

“So, is that a yes I want kids with you and to one day marry you and spend the rest of my amazing life with you?” you gloated,throwing your arms round his neck as he eagerly nodded, you letting out a squeal of excitement, finally knowing yous were both on the same page, “what difference will a couple years make anyways, might as well do it now...like you said we’re getting old” he smirked causing you to giggle, “i hope I make a good dad” he said, fading deep into thought, “oh you most definitely will and anyways we’ll figure all the ins and outs of parenthood on the way, I love Sonny” 🤍

#football #footballer #football blurb #footballer imagine #son heung min #tottenham hotspur

[elldell1204]

I Always Have Your Back - Jay Halstead x Reader

Anonymous:  Drabble challenge Nr. 17 - “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion”? With Jay Halstead Thank you! 😊

Thank you so much for the request! 🥰 I do have to confess that this is one of the most recent requests, but I got so inspired by the prompt that I felt I just needed to write it. Don’t fret! I do have ideas for the others, it’s just finding inspiration, but they will be coming soon. I hope you enjoy this one, I’m super proud of it! ❤️

(slightly inspired by this Linstead fic on Ao3, feel free to check it out!)

Warning: Mention of drugs, implied attempted rape (not graphic), mention of sex trafficking. Don’t read if this will upset you! 💕

wc - 7,464

You’ve always hated when the criminals fall through your fingers. Just when you think you’ve got ‘em, all ready to be wrapped up with a bow and sent off to Statesville, something crops up and (wrongfully) gets them off the hook by the skin of their teeth and they walk, but not without a smug grin over the shoulder at you first.

That’s why for the past month, whilst you’ve been trying to find incriminating evidence on a suspect in a missing persons case, every little thing just pisses you off. It’s like the case is all you think about, night and day. You even dream about it in your sleep, though it’s more like a nightmare. Trying to solve this case has been like torture for every member of the Intelligence unit, making everyone more irritable than usual, resulting in arguments and eyes that shoot daggers being a daily occurrence. Something which didn’t exactly help your already rocky relationship with your partner, Jay Halstead.

It wasn’t like you didn’t get along. In fact, at work, it was the complete opposite. He was the best partner you’ve ever had, seeing as you both worked liked clockwork as a duo and even got praise from Voight after a case one day saying you were the best partnership he’s ever had in his unit. You hated to admit it (and even then you never did out loud, only in the quiet of your own heart), but you’d actually fallen for your partner, something you vowed never to let happen in your lifetime as a Chicago police officer. You wanted a successful career, not be the ‘slut’ who throws herself at every male cop she works with. You’d seen many a colleague go down the road of dating a partner, and nearly every time it ended badly, but even worse for the female half of the relationship.

But every day, the little things he did or said just made you want to throw caution to the wind, push him up against the wall and kiss him breathless. And sometimes you thought you saw the same glimmer of lust in his eye as you felt.

Only, he acted like he hated you. Well, not exactly. He was nice to you, cracking jokes with you and being friendly, but whenever the conversation steered anywhere close to flirtatious, he often caught himself and put up a wall. A cold, icy wall; the complete opposite of anything you would associate with Jay Halstead. You loved the cheeky, boyish side of him, but the iron clad exterior really broke your heart, mainly because to you it meant that your love was unrequited and the partner you cared for so much was having trouble opening up to you, shutting down before your very eyes like he would when a case hit a long-forgotten nerve. Though your spirits were dampened every time it happened, you understood, especially after Kim told you the story about Erin and Jay’s downwards spiral after she left. You wished you knew him before Erin, because according to Kim, he never used to be as angry at the world. Before, he knew he could do some good, put in his bet and that helping one person would mean something. You knew he still did, but that need for justice wasn’t quite satiated anymore. It was as if, over time, the job had dampened Jay, and he needed help seeing the sunshine again.

At least that’s what Voight had told you, not in as many words, when you’d been with the unit for a few months. According to him, you were the person that coaxed the raincloud away from over Jay’s head, bit by bit, so that he could start to enjoy the sun again. Jay didn’t notice at first, but when he did, that’s when he started reverting back to the colder version of himself when things got too close to the dangerous waters of flirtation.

Lately, neither of you had gotten within ten feet of what could be considered flirting, let alone friendly jokes and conversation, and it was all thanks to this case. The unit was tasked with finding out what happened to seven young women, all addicts, who let their addiction take over to the point where they couldn’t afford their next meal when they suddenly go missing. Like, off-the-face-of-the-earth, vanished-into-a-cloud-of-smoke, left-no-trace missing. You made huge progress within the first week, finding out that all the girls were supplied by one common dealer: Elena Perez. A forty-two-year old, divorced woman who owned her own restaurant in a pretty nice area in the south side. You found she was a ‘business in the front, party in the back’ kind of dealer, so to speak. Only, you had no way of getting to her without raising her suspicions. For weeks you did surveillance, watching two different girls approach her restaurant and walking away with a bag of white power in their hands, each on different nights to the other, until one time when they entered but didn’t leave.

Which meant you were back at square one.

Every other attempt to gain more info was met with a dead end, so walking into the precinct this morning, you didn’t feel too hopeful. You were one of the last to arrive (not that you were late, you were actually half an hour early), trudging up the stairs to the bullpen with two to-go cups of coffee in hand from your local coffeehouse around the block from your apartment. One was for you, seeing as your energy levels were pretty low, and one was for Jay, half because you wanted to cheer him up and half as a peace offering after the argument you both had last night when you were both frustrated, getting absolutely nowhere in the case after combing over all your notes from the past month or so. Let’s just say you were glad you were the only two left in the bullpen, and the door to the break room was closed to avoid any prying ears.

Yours and Jay’s desks faced each other and were the closest to Voight’s office, with Jay’s back being to it. You made it to yours without passing out from exhaustion and placed Jay’s cup in front of him with a small, sorry smile on your face. Jay eyed the coffee before looking up and mirroring your expression, and that was all that was needed to repair the very minor crack in your bond (one that seemed to be needing repair too often during this case) before getting on with your day.

It was only ten or so minutes later when Voight stormed out of his office and over to the board at the top of the stairs with a tempestuous expression, his bad mood only amplified in his body language. His exit prompted the rest of Intelligence to jump up. Well, jump was an understatement, given that you were all the definition of defeated. Jay came and propped himself on the edge of your desk, whilst you spun your chair to face your boss.

“Tell me you have a lead, any lead. I don’t care if it’s less than a shoeprint, we need something to go on.”

He glanced round at each and every one of you, showing a steely glare before moving onto the next person. No one had anything. You’d had an idea for a while now, but you knew it was immensely dangerous, and therefore you decided you would only bring it up as a last resort. Now seemed like the right time.

“I know this won’t be favourable,” You began, and you could feel all eye direct their attention to you without even breaking eye contact with Voight. “But I could go in undercover?”

“No.” Jay all but shouted. You immediately diverted your eyes to your partner, an anger bubbling deep in your chest. “Absolutely not. It’s a huge risk. We don’t even know what she does to the girls! In my opinion, that’s way too dangerous and downright stupid.”

He had his jaw set tight as he spoke, making you wonder how the words didn’t come out more strained than they already did. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, his fingers gripping his biceps so hard his knuckles had turned as white as paper. In hindsight, you realise that he had your safety at heart, and he meant well with his words, however, at the time, all you could see was red, mostly thanks to sleep deprivation.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.” You seethed, and your partner looked at you like you’d just shot him in the heart. You turned to face your boss before continuing. “Sarge, you know about my work from Vice. I know what I’m doing, and I’m one of the damn best undercovers in the entire department. And what else do we have to go on? This is our only hope at finding those girls.”

Before Jay could refute, Voight agreed and told everyone to begin prepping, dishing out tasks to everyone in the unit. You were whisked away by Hailey and Vanessa to put together your cover story before you could even look at Jay, let alone discuss what the hell you had just gotten yourself into.

***

Twenty-four hours later and you’re now Riley Hensley. It was your cover from the last bust you did in Vice, which was luckily still intact, so you managed to slot right back into it, even getting your old job at the corner store back within minutes of talking to the owner. You were sat sipping one of the worst coffees ever to touch your tastebuds whilst reading over your pseudo-life. You’d arrived at your undercover apartment last night with just a scruffy duffel bag to your name, and it was then that you’d realised it was the smallest apartment you had ever set foot in, and you’d lived alone in New York straight out of college with a student’s salary. Once you got there, you set it up a little more to your taste, putting a few personal touches to make it seemed more lived in.

The rest of the team had left you to do your thing back in the district before you went under (which consisted of a lot of psyching yourself up and getting yourself in the mindset of your new character), getting busy with setting out surveillance plans and shift changes and places to put bugs. You managed to have very small and brief conversation with the team before you left last night at 7pm to spend your first night in the apartment. Most were quick goodbyes and ‘stay safe’s, but Jay’s was different. You felt a little bad about your earlier encounter, but now wasn’t the time. For all you know, that could have been the last time you ever spoke to him, so you didn’t want to waste it on possibly unnecessary apologies. He seemed repressed, like there was something he wanted to say but just couldn’t find the words or the strength to do so, but the encounter ended up being more friendly than you had interacted with each other in weeks.

He handed you a little zip up bag, telling you it was full of Narcan in case you were accidentally dosed. You had taken it, your fingertips brushing against his for less than a second, but enough for you to feel comforted. You thanked him, and he gave you a small fleeting smile before his eyes went back to his feet. “I don’t doubt that you know what you’re doing, but please, be safe.” He had said. You had to hold back tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you felt guilty for snapping at him earlier and you didn’t know how to apologise (damn your sleep-deprived brain). You also felt the urge to just tell him everything; your feelings, your favourite moments with him, how much you were going to miss seeing him every day. And although you desperately wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him so tight you might stop his lungs from working, you just nodded, and he walked away, leaving you to go back to reading your files, or at least try to.

Now, after surprisingly one of the best sleeps you’d had in the last month, you were nearly ready for your first meet with Perez this evening. You were dressed in a tattered hoodie you usually only wore to bed, some leggings that had begun to thin out from wear and a pair of canvas pumps that had a hole in the front. Your usually pristinely-kept hair was looking more like a rat’s nest than an actually rat’s nest, and you were planning on going for a run or doing some sort of workout before you went to the meet to work up a sweat and make it more believable that you were an addict in withdrawal. Also, the bags and dark circles under your eyes from the recent sleepless nights actually worked in your favour.

You were so engrossed in reading the file and going over your plan that the knock at your door startled you more than it should have. You stood from your chair at the kitchen table, pushing it back under before stepping carefully over to the front door. You peered through the spyhole, being surprised to see your partner stood outside. You assumed he had brought you something you had forgotten, but you had to let him in quick before anyone saw and suspected anything, so you opened the door and roughly pulled him in by his arm.

“Nice to see you too.” He joked as you stuck your head out of the door and looked around for anyone, but being satisfied that there was no one there, you came back in and locked it before turning around. You could tell he was surprised to see you looking so…not you. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked you up and down, and if it wasn’t for how worn down you looked and how self-conscious you were of your appearance right now, the action would have sent a heat straight to your core. “On second thoughts, maybe not.”

“Well, I am trying to sell the ‘utterly broke drug addict’ act, so you shouldn’t have expected a ball gown.” You shot back, teasingly.

“I wasn’t, it’s just so different to how good you look normally.” He said, walking over to your couch, unaware of what he just let slip out. It made your mind race ridiculously fast, just like your heart, but you realised he probably didn’t mean it in the way you hoped he did.

“As much as I am enjoying your company, what are you doing here?” You went and leant up against the wall facing him.

“I’m here to let you know it’s not too late to pull out of this.” He looked straight into your eyes as he said it, so deeply you were worried he might have seen how nervous you were under your brave facade.

“Well, I’m not going to.”

“Y/N, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know what Perez does to the girls. She could kill you.”

“I know how to handle myself, Jay.” You squinted your eyes at him, as if you thought he was speaking utter nonsense. Really, you just didn’t want to think about the possibility of him being right.

“But you won’t have back-up in there with you.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Halstead! You don’t need to be my knight in shining armour. I know what I’m doing, and most of the unit will be outside at all times in case I need you, anyways.”

“Don’t do this, Y/N. We can find another way in-”

“Don’t you see? I have to do this! There is no other way. I owe it to the girls and their families to find them and stop any more from getting hurt. If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself. So let me decide what I can and can’t do, Jay, please.”

You didn’t realise you were both shouting now, not until you noticed how out of breath you both were and that Jay was now very close to you after standing up to have the shouting match. You could smell him, that mix of eucalyptus and cedarwood you love, so close that if you were to reach out a hand, you could grab the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours. You even think you might have seen his eyes fleeting down to your own lips for a second. Only you didn’t act on your desires. Instead, you walked over to the kitchen, wrapping your arms around yourself in some sort of hug, keeping your back to him.

“I appreciate your concern,” You practically whispered, so quiet you were unsure if he could even hear you. “But I’ll be fine. Plus, you have my back. You always have my back.”

You turned slowly to see that he hadn’t moved an inch, only his eyes had followed you to where you were, excruciatingly far from where you were mere seconds earlier.

“And I always will.” He muttered in reply. He began to walk towards the door with soft steps, passing you on his way, unlatching it when he got there, but before he could open it, he turned back to you once more. “Stay safe, Y/N. I need my partner.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to slump down into the couch with your head spinning, in the same place he was sat before, desperate to savour the faint scent he left behind to calm your nerves.

***

The first thing you noticed when you turned onto the street was the van. It had “A. Johnson & Sons Plumbing” printed onto the side of it, the vinyl sticker peeling slightly at the edges with age. It was one of three the 21st precinct owned, each one a different company on the outside, but practically the same layout on the inside. You knew they were watching the visual and listening to the audio that the tiny camera and microphone picked up in your necklace, whilst the unmarked car that housed another two members of your unit would only be listening to the audio.

You checked your work phone before you left the apartment with just your undercover burner, being met with a message from Hailey telling you how Jay had pushed for the first shift in the van, which made you smile. You kept that close to your heart as you walked down the cold dark street, getting closer to the restaurant with each step.

“Everything okay?” You said a few feet from the restaurant after checking nobody was around you.

“All good. Do your thing, Y/N.” Hailey’s reassuring voice came through the small earpiece you had in.

You pulled open the door to the front of the restaurant, immediately aware of how out of place you looked in your scruffy clothes compared to the smartly dressed patrons dotted around at their tables. You caught one of the waitresses’ eye, who, after scrunching her nose up at you, made her way over.

“Table for one?” She asked you, her voice a little strained as she looked you up and down with a slight hint of disgust. You really were a sight; sweaty from your run, shaking and scruffy in an attempt to sell your act.

“I’m here to see Ms Perez?” You asked, your eyes frantic, unable to focus on anything. At least that’s what you wanted her to think.

“Um, I’ll go see if she’s busy. Wait here.” The waitress said before disappearing through the doors at the back of the restaurant.

You had earned some interest from some diners now, being the topic of a few hushed discussions and wary glances. You knew that it’d be caught on the camera you wore, and you could only imagine Jay’s massive eye roll at how sheltered and rude they were acting, which calmed you slightly and made you smile on the inside. You saw the waitress returning, looking uneasy at the news you were about to receive from her. You expected what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“Ms Perez gives her apologies, but she’s very busy right now. She said to ask you to leave.”

You began to plead with her, quietly but not too quiet that you wouldn’t appear erratic and in need of a fix, but she didn’t budge, and so you left with a huff, your hand shaking as you reached for the door handle.

You’d expected this to happen, seeing as the same had occurred to a girl you saw when you were doing surveillance. You followed what she did that night a few weeks ago. You looked behind you to check if the waitress watched you leave, which she hadn’t, so you turned to the right and made your way to the back of the restaurant to where the deliveries went. It was even darker down there, with no streetlights to illuminate your way, only the mild moonlight. You made it to the back, seeing nobody to stop you, and so you entered through the door that you assumed led to the corridor where her office was. You were right, as the second door on the left had a plaque on the door that read “Ms Elena Perez, Owner and Manageress”, and so you knocked.

“Enter!” You heard from inside, the call muffled by the door. So you did, timidly opening the door and stepping in. She hadn’t looked up from her computer yet, so she hadn’t seen you, but you definitely saw her. She definitely wasn’t your average drug dealer, that’s for sure; dressed to the nines in her figure-hugging dress, a scarlet red that reminded you of fresh blood complemented her caramel features perfectly. The same shade was painted onto her lips and her nails, like a wolf who had just feasted. If you weren’t so confident in your skills, you would have instantly been intimidated, and so that’s the front you put on. You hugged yourself with one arm, trying to make yourself as small as possible, whilst the other was busy scratching some imaginary itch on your arm. You immediately dropped your focus from her before she got suspicious, your eyes fleeting around the room at where you could place a bug, but to her, you would just be acting like a normal addict going through withdrawal.

She probably expected you to speak first, thinking you were one of her staff, but when you stayed quiet, she raised her eyes. At first, they were imitating the kindness a good boss might show to her workers, but when she saw it was a drug addict, the one she had told to get lost, her eyes became icy with manipulation. It was like she was a lion and her prey was about to walk directly where she wanted it.

“I thought I told you to leave.” She questioned, standing as she tilted her head at you. With her heels, she was definitely taller than you, something she must have took pleasure in.

“Please, Ms Perez, I was told…I, um, I need…” You began, mumbling and stumbling over your words.

Game time.

“A fix? Anyone within fifty feet of you would be able to tell that. But why would I be able to help you with that?”

“Um, Rachel said you could help me? I was clean until I lost my job a few months ago, but then I slipped back into old habits and I’m really struggling with money right now, I thought you might be more understanding than other…you know…and let me pay you over time and in other ways than money.”

“I don’t usually.”

“Please.” You beg, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. You see her consider it, because her eyes seem to go to a dark place, and you know that you were right in going with this approach. It followed the pattern of the other girls, so it was your best bet after all.

“What’s your name?”

“Riley. Riley Hensley.”

“Okay, Riley. I hope I can take you for your word.” Perez concedes, walking over to a safe she has in the corner of the room, typing in a code to open it and then pulling out a little dime bag of a white powder. “Heroin?”

You nod, beginning to act excited. Before you can say anything, though, she reached out her empty hand, palm up.

“Give me what you have on you today, and I’ll see what you owe.”

You stuck a hand into the pocket of your hoodie, grabbing the crumpled-up bills you had brought with you. Two tens. You put them in her palm, and after inspecting them, she handed you over the bag, which you took eagerly.

“This is enough for today.” She held up the bills before walking back to sit down. “If you come back to see me, don’t go to the front again.”

“Yes, yes, of course, thank you.” You nodded before leaving quickly. Perez thought she had laid the bait, and you had snatched it right up, when really it was you who had her right where you wanted her.

***

It went on like this for a week or so; you bringing the right amount for what she gave you. But it soon became a deal of you bringing whatever cash you could scrounge with anything valuable you had to offer. For a while, the bags got bigger and bigger, fuelling your faux addiction, until the value of the items you brought decreased and you had no cash to your name.

You had gone a couple of days without seeing her, pretending that you didn’t have anything to give, and so when you turned up tonight with a measly pair of tarnished silver earrings that ‘belonged to your mother before she died’, she didn’t seem pleased.

“You realise these aren’t even worth ten bucks, right?” She laughed in your face to degrade you. You began to fumble with your fingers.

“They’re real silver-“

“I don’t give a shit. I’m not giving you anything.” She shrugged and sat back down at her desk.

You looked at her, dumbfounded and desperate. “Please, Ms Perez. I need it.”

She didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Ms Perez, please, I’ll bring you something better tomorrow, I promise.”

She seems to perk up at your words, looking up at you with what can only be described as an evil smile.

“I don’t take promises as payment, little girl.”

You sighed audibly. “You know I keep my promises, Ms Perez. I always have before.”

“If I give you something now, you promise me that you will come back here tomorrow with something worth it?”

You nod eagerly.

“Okay then.”

She stands, getting you the same size bag that she gave you the first time a few weeks ago. As you take it from her, she grips your forearm hard, making you yelp in pain.

“You better keep your promise, girly, or you’ll have to pay me back another way.”

You whimper your consent to her, and, satisfied, she releases your arm. You left quickly, rubbing at your arm. It was definitely going to bruise. Once in the fresh air, you took a deep breath, going over the encounter in your head. ‘Pay me back another way.’ You felt a smile tug at your lips. You were getting somewhere.

Walking away from the restaurant, you saw the familiar van parked at the end of the road, so you said, “Pull round the corner. I’ll meet you there.”

You saw someone get out of the back and walk round to the driver’s side before the van drove off. You carried on the same way, and when you got to the van, you opened the back doors and got in, finding Adam and Jay sat waiting for you.

It was the first time since he came to your undercover apartment that you had seen Jay, but he looked a lot rougher than he had that day. His hair was messier, his eyes more tired and he looked overwhelmingly worried. But you didn’t have the time to ask him how he was doing. You knew you were close to finding the much-needed answers, you just had to keep going.

“Wow, you look rough.” Adam teased, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ha ha, funny. Did you hear all that?” You asked.

“Yeah, we did.” Adam replied, serious this time.

“Another way to pay her…” Jay repeated what he heard, and you saw a sliver of hope flash across his face.

You nodded, the same smile you had earlier returning. “Yeah, I really think we’re getting somewhere.”

“Just…be careful, Y/N.” Jay met your eyes, and you could read a million more things he wanted to say to you right now, but you both didn’t have the time.

“I will. I better be going, then.” You said, slipping out of the van and walking back to your apartment, a little more bounce in your step than you had before.

***

Another week went by, and each time you met with Perez, you brought next to nothing, but she always said very little at all in protest. You knew it wasn’t enough to pay for what she was giving you, but she was being extremely lenient. Of course, you did this on purpose, wanting to see what the alternative form of payment would be, but you were beginning to give up hope after seven days. That was until you turned up tonight, at your usual time, and Perez wasn’t alone. The man in her office wasn’t one you ever saw before, and you knew that the team in the van would be running him through facial rec to put a name to the face.

“Who is this?” You said to Perez, glancing between them both. He was tall, rather muscular, good-looking, the same caramel skin and dark hair that Perez had, but they didn’t share similar features, so they definitely weren’t related. You might have been attracted to him if you didn’t know what he was probably involved in, or if your heart didn’t love someone else.

“This is Nicolas.” Perez replied, the same evil smile she wore so well was resting on her face.

“And why is Nicolas here?” You decided to go with the sassy approach.

“You owe me.” She stated simply. “Nicolas works for me, in a different branch, so to speak.”

You furrow your brows. What the hell is she on about? “And?”

“You are going to work off your debt.”

Your eyes go wide. “I can’t, I already have a job.”

“At the convenience store. I know. But it isn’t paying you nearly enough to pay your debt. Plus, we’d provide you with whatever you need.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” It was Nicolas that spoke this time. His voice was smooth, comforting even, but it still put you on edge. “You can start tonight. You’d earn a lot of money with your body.”

“Um, I don’t know…” You mumble, starting to back towards the door. Nicolas began to walk slowly towards you. You’d expected some sort of sex trafficking, but didn’t think this was how you’d be integrated into it.

“Y/N, don’t go anywhere. We don’t have GPS on you, it’s not safe for you to go mobile.” You heard Jay through your earpiece.

“I need to go quit my job at the store. I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I promise I’ll come back tomorrow, and then I’ll start working for you.” You tried to compromise, but both of them had a hungry look in their eyes.

You knew they weren’t going to budge. You had to escape. So you turned to run, pushing down hard on the door handle when you felt Nicolas grab your arm. You tried to thrash around to get him off, but when that didn’t work, you threw your head back, hearing what you assumed was his nose crunch with the force, which worked.

You swung open the door, ready to sprint, when this time you were pulled back by your necklace, which snapped off, and two arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping you from going. You began to scream, knowing the team would be starting to move in, but you had to hold your own for maybe thirty seconds. Only, you didn’t have that, as you felt the sharp jab of a needle in your thigh, and suddenly you felt an overwhelming urge to sleep, your eyes feeling heavy and every muscle growing weak. The last thing you saw was darkness as some sort of bag was pulled over your head.

***

You felt groggy when you began to stir, the feeling starting to flood back into your limbs, but still you couldn’t move. You looked around with fear-filled eyes, realising you were alone in a dingy basement. It wasn’t big enough to be that of a warehouse, more like a normal house. You listened hard for any sounds, but all you could hear was the occasional car driving past, nothing distinctive.

You tried to move, getting jolted back as you rolled over. You looked to the wall, finding a chain than lead to some sort of cuff on your wrist, and you knew then that you were stuck there until someone came to find you. You felt a chilled draught rush over your skin, and when you looked down you saw you were only in your underwear, sprawled out on a filthy mattress.

Immediately you felt violated, and you had yet to feel any pain associated with what you thought they would have already done to you. Still, you were angry. Upset. Furious. Disappointed in yourself for being in that position, the one where you couldn’t escape. But, even in hindsight, you couldn’t think of anything you could have done differently to save yourself from this situation, besides wearing a GPS tracker, which none of expected to need.

Your only hope was the team had caught the licence plate before you were driven off to wherever you were. For now, all you could do was wait. And with waiting came thinking, something you barely had enough energy to do right now, but as soon as your mind flooded with the thoughts of your friends and family, you were more than happy to use whatever power you had left on them.

First, your mind went to your family, the last holiday you spent together, all the time you spent without thinking once about work. Next, you thought of your unit, how they were like your second family, the fun you had each day with them, even when you were dealing with the worst mankind had to offer. The laughs from the after-work drinks at Molly’s in celebration as jokes were shared around the table. And then, you thought of Jay.

Why the hell hadn’t you told him before you left? You knew this was one of the most dangerous operations you had ever been on, and yet you were too cowardly to let him know your feelings. You didn’t want to think like that right now, though, so your mind just went to him. His jokes that made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe, his little chuckle that was like a music to your ears you yearned to hear every day, the way he was able to comfort you like no one else after a rough case, making you content and at peace with the world once more, a feat that wasn’t easy to achieve when the darkness hit you hard.

It was then that your little reverie was interrupted by the bolt on the door being slid across, the heavy metal clanging sound reverberating around the room, or was it in your head? You were still a little fuzzy, after all. The footsteps sounded menacing as whoever it was made their way towards you. You were trying to focus on their face, but it was proving to be more difficult than it should have been.

“You’re awake.” The voice was familiar, not overly so but you had definitely heard it before. You saw the hand coming towards your face in a blur before you felt it, but that did nothing to quell the sting when it collided with your cheek. You managed to supress the cry of pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. That’s when he gripped your jaw roughly, his fingers and thumb digging into opposite cheeks to give you that ridiculous pout to humiliate you. “Ah, I expected you to be stubborn. No need to worry, we’ll wear you down and fuck you so hard that by the end of the week, you’ll be begging for mercy through tears. Call it your initiation.”

You took a sharp intake of breath at the words, and he chuckled darkly. Your eyes finally focused, seeing the same caramel skin and dark chocolate hair you mistrusted earlier.

Nicolas.

“The ketamine still wearing off?” He laughed, throwing your face down with ease. That’s when you heard him start to unbuckle his belt. “That should make the next part easier then…”

It was like the adrenaline began to surge in waves through your veins at those words, and you began to thrash around, smacking away his hands and screaming bloody murder until your throat felt raw, but you didn’t stop. He grabbed each ankle in his hands, tight as vices, and still you lashed out, kicking your legs, trying to connect with his body anywhere you could. There was absolutely no way you would go down without a fight.

He'd managed to pin your legs down with his knees when his fingertips found the fabric of your panties, your arms still flailing with purpose in his direction, and before he could pull them down, the metal door swung open, crashing into the brick wall with a crack.

Nicolas got distracted, turning his once hungry eyes away from you to see the cause of the noise, which allowed you to dislodge a leg from underneath him, wrapping one and then the other tightly around his neck before squeezing them so hard you were surprised you didn’t break it.

You were still crying, still so flooded with adrenaline and the overwhelming need to survive that you jumped at the warm hand placed on your arm, beginning to lash out at it once again, when the hand turned into an arm, and then two, wrapped tightly but not overly so around your torso, prompting you to let go of the man you had now knocked out cold. You felt a hard chest meet your back, calming you and somehow you knew it was safe to let go, to just cry, to let it all out.

“Ssh, Y/N, I got you, I got you.” The voice was warm, inviting, comforting, one you loved so much, one you trusted with your life.

“Jay.” You whimpered in between cries, and his arms loosened slightly at your realisation. You turned ever so slightly so you could tuck your head into his neck, the tears still flowing. He rocked you gently in an effort to comfort you, but he knew you needed to get this out of your system.

You were still crying when you felt the blanket wrap around you, when you were practically carried out by Jay and into the back of a car, still sat in his lap with your head nuzzled into his neck, craving that familiar eucalyptus and cedarwood smell that would calm you. You had relaxed by the time the car pulled to a stop, and you were helped into the pristine building and onto a gurney, a hospital gown placed onto the bed for you to put on whilst everyone cleared out of the room with a few lingering looks your way before the curtain was pulled across.

You did just that, giving yourself a moment to reflect before opening the curtain. You were safe. You were unharmed, mostly. You were shaken up, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t work through. You were okay.

“I’m ready.” You said as you pulled back the curtain. You were met with a warm smile from Natalie before you got situated on the bed.

***

About an hour later, after you had endured countless tests and a visit from Dr Charles, your team was given the go ahead to come in to see you. They walked in with caution, but at your bright smile, they seemed to relax.

“Did you find the other girls?” You got out before they could even ask you how you were, which earned a chuckle.

“There’s our Y/N,” Adam laughed. “Always straight down to business.”

You merely smiled and shrugged before looking around at each member, expecting an answer.

“Yeah, we found all of them upstairs in various rooms. Looked like the start of a sex trafficking ring, so we did good to catch it early, but it was all thanks to you, Y/N.” Hailey was the one to provide you with it.

“Don’t be silly, we all worked hard, and we did it together, although I do expect a couple of days off, boss. I’m exhausted.” You laughed along with the rest of the room.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Voight smiled at you genuinely.

You saw everyone’s eyes fleet towards Jay, who was yet to say anything, when Vanessa coughed lightly. “Well, we’ll give you some space to rest up. See you soon, Y/N.”

You thanked everyone for coming, exchanging goodbyes as they all walked out one by one, except for Jay.

He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes looking anywhere but yours until everyone had left. When he finally looked up, seeing you smiling at him, he relaxed, taking a few steps towards you so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

“Hi.” He said a little sheepishly.

“Hi.” You replied. You felt a small blush creeping up your neck.

“How are you?” He asked, lightly checking you over for any visible injuries.

“I’m better. They didn’t…do anything. Like that.”

“Good. Otherwise they wouldn’t be leaving the cage for a couple of days.”

“Yeah…” You smiled weakly. There was a little bit of tension in the air. You weren’t used to being so close and open with him, but it felt…nice. “How’d you find me?”

“We saw the plate on the van as it sped off but couldn’t get back to the car in time to tail it. We put a BOLO out and started canvassing, but it was a couple hours later when we found it in the driveway of some house, so we thought we were too late. Luckily, we weren’t.”

You nodded along slowly before the silence resumed, but not for long. “Thank you.” You whispered meekly.

“Hm?” He furrowed his brows as you locked eyes.

“You know, for getting to me before…”

“Y/N, I told you I always have your back, and I meant it.” He said, and you saw something in his eyes you had never seen before.

“I know.” You hummed, and you felt an overwhelming urge to tell him. To tell him how you felt, that you had loved him for months and were too scared to say anything. “Listen, Jay, I need to tell you something.”

“I do too, Y/N, and I know, I’m the same, but not now. It wouldn’t be right.”

You didn’t feel deterred or ashamed. You completely understood him and wholeheartedly agreed. Although you weren’t sure if you were going to say the same thing, you just nodded, but you craved that comfort you knew he gave you, whilst also wanting to reassure yourself.

So you reached out your hand for his, and he met yours, interlacing your fingers together, his thumb running gently over the back of your hand. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin, letting his lips linger there longer than would be considered just friendly, before lowering them back down to the bed. He leaned forward, not to kiss you, put to place your foreheads together, an action that seemed more intimate than a kiss right now. He lifted his eyes to yours once more, and looking into them, that’s when you knew for sure.

You loved Jay Halstead, and Jay Halstead loved you.

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead angst #Chicago PD #One Chicago #chicago pd imagine

[klaineownsmysoul]

I just can't believe that there are people who still believe every single word a public figure/celebrity says, most of the time they LIE. Did C lie about some fans harassing his bf? I have no clue, but if someone was indeed harassing him, that is just not correct. There are crazy fans in every fandom. If people still believe every post or tweet is posted personally by the celebrity, they are just naive and gullible. I don't believe in CC, but that's just my opinion. I do believe D is closeted and just because he posts something or says something nice about someone doesn't mean he actually thinks that, it is most likely PR, just like the unnecessary refurbishment of RR's house. People should wake up and not believe everything they see on the internet. Side note: I couldn't even get mad at yesterday's show because everything is just so ridiculous and bad-acted that it's funny.

At this point, if you aren't side-eyeing basically everything that comes out of Hollywood, you are just willfully ignorant. Its all calculated to a specific end and they don't think twice about contradicting their past selves if it serves a current narrative. Case in point: C saying towards the end of glee that he had no idea who D was when he joined the show when there's a whole interview of him talking about seeing D in AVPM way back when. Like season 2 back when. That's just a blatantly obvious, easily disproved and stupid lie. With regards to this podcast mess - I haven't listened to it and I wasn't on tumblr for most of glee's run so I wasn't really privy to a lot of the goings on that happened bts. Can I believe that there were people who crossed the line of fandom and behaved like assholes? Yes, definitely because it still happens. That kind of behavior is not exclusive to the glee fandom. You will find people like that everywhere. Whether or not they did exactly what he said they did - only he knows that for sure. Its a weird thing to bring up now 6 years after the show has ended as it effectively (and unfairly) paints a bullseye on a specific group. I'm not sure what he was hoping to achieve with this. The CC people that I've interacted with here are lovely and would never in a million years even think of things that horrible. Keep your thoughts and opinions to your own little blog and you don't tag the person in your post - its as simple as that. Who are these nobodies who have that much power that they think they can get a complete stranger fired? If they did indeed behave this way, then that is appalling, completely batshit crazy, and unacceptable - they need professional help. Its not funny, its scary. There's no need for that ever. At the end of the day, its his life and what he does with it and who he spends it with is his business. There's a pretty simple solution if you don't like the person anymore or don't like what they are doing: you can simply stop following them. You don't need to engage in some sort of bizarre smear campaign that has real world implications. Remember all those toxic twitter teens who were ready to draw and quarter D a few months back over that nearly 10 year old pic of him or a comment just as old? The awful things they said about him, the nonstop tagging of him and the flooding of every one of his SM posts with their bullshit? The "you're dead to me if you choose to remain a fan of his" ultimatums? I do! That's the kind of stuff that drives celebs away from SM and ruins it for the rest of us that know how to behave. You're creating an issue where there wasn't one and that's sort of what C did here with his comments.

From my point of view, the issue with C and D's SOs isn't so much that they are with other people, but more to the kind of people they seem to be. I don't know much frankly about W. He's not shoved in my face 24 hours a day and a hovering annoying presence at everything C does. You'll find more pics of C solo or with AF than you will with W. That's why he bothers me less and why D takes more criticism on this. But from what I've heard about him, he's said and posted some pretty awful things in the past and if people choose to not like him because of that, that seems valid to me. As fans, we can only judge celebs by what they say and do and our perception of them - its all we have. My dislike of M is not because she's with D and I'm a super jealous old spinster. And its not because I'm a self hating misogynist. Its because of the way she clings to D and his career while doing nothing on her own, the way she uses him for her own selfish purposes, and the hypocritical way she claimed to not to want to be in the public eye but yet shadows D at every event he goes to because it means cameras and photos and recognition as his wife. That tacky awful commercialized wedding was the last straw for me because I haven't been able to hold my tongue since. And if you follow someone long enough, you can get a pretty good idea of when they're being genuine and when they're bullshitting you or in D's case, when its him posting something and when its a member of his team. For example: where he supposedly proposed. By lying about it - either then or now - you've created a mess that didn't previously exist. Its a fairly simple straightforward statement that most people get right the first time: where they asked their SO to marry them. D says Japan, RR says D called him saying he wanted to do it when he was outside a bathroom in Miami. So the answer is either a) D b) RR c) none of the above. I'm going to go with c, thanks. Unless RR is going to come back and say that D decided to ask her in Miami but then waited until they were physically in Japan to do the asking, I'm going to go with neither of you are right and the reason D blew off the question every time he was asked about it by saying he didn't want to bore us is that you hadn't come up with a good enough and believable story yet. Much like the engagement ring that hadn't been locked down until RR could find a designer willing to make a ring with a diamond big enough to soothe her ego and give off the pretense of being legit. He probably put more effort into that than anything in D's career in the last 5 years. Do I think that RR did help D at one point when he was starting out with gigs, jobs, things like that? Sure. No problem. And maybe they were friends and liked to hang out and jam together. But do I also think that D has outgrown him personally and professionally at this point? Hell fucking yes. He needs a grown up to take his career to the next level and RR is not that person. He completely failed to capitalize on all the awards and well deserved hype D got from ACS and for that alone, he should have been fired. He needs someone who wants to do the work because they understand the rare find they have in D and that their job is to promote him, not themselves. The IOU ep was nothing but a self serving hour of D trying to make RR look and sound like he's not a complete waste of space on top of getting a cut of his fee as his manager. If you look at D's page on the very sad H/yphenate website, you will see the 3 biggest roles D's had are not listed. No Blaine. No Hedwig. No ACS. But oddly enough, a mention of his record deal with Columbia, which I thought went kaput ages ago and his hosting of the Teen Choice Awards in 2013. You know - the big times. Why? I'm going to assume its because he got those roles without RR's help so he doesn't want them there and what does that tell you? It should tell you everything. This is why your manager should be your manager and your friends should be your friends. Its like a parent who wants to be their

child's friend instead of the authority figure they need.

Too much of D's SM has the look and feel of pr and useless ads and just flat out nonsense and that falls squarely under RR's domain. He's a 34 year old man with an established career, not a 21 year old newbie just starting out but his SM doesn't reflect that in any way, shape, or form. The sooner D can cut his losses and break free, the better off his career will be, the more adult he will sound, and the happier I will be.