#yes I am uploading this at four-thirty in the morning what of it

[nehswritesstuffs]

Peer Review

Something about this sort of scenario seems just so Law to me and I can't really put my finger on it, even after writing it out, so here we are.

3227 words; starts off with a 19yo Law and all the self-righteous fury contained therein (Penguin is 21, Shachi 20, and Bepo 15, for comparison); I’m sure that some people have done something similar but it’s my turn with the football now I guess; may or may not work within canon, idk yet, try not to think about it too much; maybe get an additional editing pass after I sleep idk on that either

Peer Review; Law is sick of watching all of Flevance's contributions go to waste, which leads him to take drastic measures: passing board exams.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Uh… are you sure this is a good idea…?” Penguin wondered. He watched as Law was hunched over the table in the Polar Tang’s mess hall, furiously completing paperwork. His captain did not answer him and that only made him worry more. “Cap…?”

“Ignore him,” Shachi droned from the kitchen. “You’re never going to win.”

“This is not about winning—this is about him being delusional.”

“No, what’s delusional,” Law said, slamming his pen down on the table, “is that these uptight twits playing at doctor think they can just ignore an entire plethora of medical and scientific achievements simply due to the authors getting in the crossfire of a genocide! They know they’re not publishing the truth in these fucking jokes they call medical journals! It’s like peer review means that they just skimmed it over right quick before putting it to press! If they had any shred of ethical acumen these works would be known and referenced!”

“Literally none of us have ever seen you more upset and it’s kind of scary,” Penguin mentioned. “I mean, you’re sounding like you’re about to vomit a thesaurus.”

“What I am about to vomit is the contents of my stomach because they are ignoring my parents’ work!” Law retorted. He gestured over to the wall, where a knife had been Shambled into the metal as it held up a journal that had been stabbed through the center. “I remember reading it! I was there! My parents let me read over it to check for typos! And we’re talking about one of the medical associations that turned me away as a kid!”

“Yeah, and what is passing boards going to do about it?”

“Give me an in.” Law went back to the paperwork, manically filling everything out to the best of his ability. He put together what he hoped was an impressive resume, hoping that it would be enough to convince the licensing committee to allow him to sit the boards without going through all of med school on-island first. If he was pressed, he probably could have figured out how he knew more than the average fourth-year med student by the time he was eight years old…

“Hey everyone! News Coo’s here!”

“Shit!” Law scrambled to sit up and run over to the hatch of the Polar Tang, where Bepo was waiting on the top deck. A News Coo was sitting idly on the railing, resting itself as it stared at the pile of mail in Bepo’s paw. Law took the envelopes from the Mink and began to sort through them, finding one small, discreet letter amongst ad leaflets about a WEJ news subscription and Shachi’s naughty Sora, Warrior of the Sea fan zine.

A letter from the licensing board.

Law shoved the rest of the mail back towards Bepo and tore open the envelope. He read it over three times, with his friends divvying up their own mail in the meantime.

“I got my in,” Law marveled quietly, voice barely above a whisper. He turned towards his crew—his friends—his brothers—and laughed. “I can take the exam!”

“You what…?” Shachi blinked in confusion. “What was all that paperwork for then?”

“Red tape that they want me to come in and fill out, but I already got the jump on them so they can’t pretend like it doesn’t exist.” Law put up a Room and popped the paperwork, a pen, and an envelope to the deck, replacing it with the letter and Shachi’s zine. He ignored the complaints as he put together his response and stuffed it in the envelope, putting it in the News Coo’s bag before the bird took off.

Now, it was off to Lvneel.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You have an… interesting set of credentials,” the woman at the desk frowned. She let her eyes flit from the papers in front of her to the boy sitting on the other side of her desk. He was trying to not fidget, though it was also apparent that the attempt at looking serious was just something unfortunate his face did. Not only that, he looked so young, even if he did have patchy facial hair filling in on his chin and cheeks. So young and so unsettlingly familiar…

“All worth its weight, I can assure you,” he replied. “The gap I can explain by having worked out in the field, which I’m told is often worth as much as thrice the same amount of time in the classroom.”

“True… but without verification, I can’t really say that this is as solid as you claim, not to mention the fee…” She watched as the boy took some money from his inner jacket pocket and placed it on the table. “A bribe…?”

“All the admissions fees, up front, in your hands, now.” He stared her down as she counted it—not a beri out of place. “There is nothing barring me from taking the exam.”

“You’re feisty—I like you,” she smirked. “You’ll mostly be a pain to the other departments, which to me is honestly enough reason to let you through. You just have to remember something.”

“Anything.”

“Lvneelish people don’t take kindly to being made fools.” The boy froze, seemingly afraid he was caught in some sort of lie, and she chuckled. “I don’t know who you are, Wittman Lars, or where you really came from, but just remember that if you’re going to go through with this, then make it good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy nodded. He looked cowed, as though he rarely deferred as such. She watched as he bit his lower lip in thought, slipping further away from the headstrong confidence that he had walked in with. “If I pass this exam, I can submit studies and critiques to the Greater Lvneel Medical Journal, right?”

“It would be within your right, yes.” She raised an eyebrow at the boy, who looked much younger in that moment than she was comfortable with. “I won’t ask your reasons, but is that why you are sitting this exam?”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

“Then get out of my office—collect the necessary paperwork on the way out.” She handed him a slip of paper with a stamp on it, which he stared at incredulously… as though he didn’t entirely believe he was holding it. “Exams are in three weeks; a failed exam can be retaken in six months. Not reporting forfeits your right to another chance for a year. Cheating bars you for five years. Any other questions will be answered by the secretaries; now leave.”

It took a moment for the boy’s brain to catch up and he scrambled up from the chair and scurried out of the office like a scared animal unsure of its limbs. She nodded to herself, wondering how many people would see in the boy what she saw—hopefully not too many.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Three weeks?!” Penguin griped. They were in the small rented house they had found on the outskirts of the city, far enough away from the main of Lvneel to not attract too much attention. Shachi was already getting dinner prepped while Bepo was helping Law sort through medical books at the kitchen table. The eldest Heart Pirate had just gotten home with the shopping when Law dropped the news on him.

“That’s when it is; can’t change it,” Law replied. “I’m surprised the registrar let me do any of it at all.”

“This is going to eat into our savings, you know this,” Penguin frowned. Shachi wordlessly took the bag from his hand and procured the seal meat that was going to be the night’s dinner. “We don’t have that much.”

“I thought the haul we got from those Kueni assholes was more than enough to let us coast for half a year in a more central part of town,” Law reminded him. Penguin only folded his arms in response. “Besides, it’ll do us good to be on land for a bit, and the Tang’s not that far away if you want to visit her.”

“She’s a ship, not a woman.”

“Yeah, but same rules apply.” Law opened a Room and moved a fresh stack of books to a nearby shelf. “We’re going to be here long enough for me to sit the exam and get a hold of my certification. If it takes that long, then it’s going to take that long.”

“You’re fucking nuts if you think we’re going to stay under the radar the entire time.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t.” Law handed Bepo a book and pointedly did not look at Penguin. “I think she recognized me.” His crewmates all stopped to stare at him in horror.

“Wait, what?!” Shachi snapped. “Cap, don’t tell me you’re going to get us all busted because of this!”

“We won’t,” Law assured. “They can’t prove anything, not until it’s too late, and once I get my license they can’t strip me of it unless a malpractice suit comes up against me or there’s an injunction, both of which take time.”

“It’s bad enough Bepo’s a bear—don’t apologize Bep—but someone recognizing you?!” Shachi put his hands on his hips while their kid brother whimpered. “We’re literally hundreds of miles from Flevance. Why do you think this lady recognized you?!”

“Just a feeling,” he shrugged. “People travel for work or pleasure; medical tourism was a thing where I grew up; I’ve got a Flevench face—any number of reasons.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“I told you,” Penguin said, gesturing at Law as though he wanted to add a “see this shit” at the end.

“Then leave,” Law deadpanned. He handed another book to Bepo, who put it in the appropriate stack. “Nothing’s stopping you. The door’s right there.”

“Yeah, but why would we leave Bepo alone with you?” Penguin scoffed. “He needs an adult.”

“I am an adult.”

“Tch; barely.”

“…and whose idea was it to beat the bear up?”

Okay, he had them there, but…!

“Are you going to hang that over us forever?” Shachi groaned.

“As long as I need to.”

“Then I say I should be able to hold my arm over you in retaliation,” Penguin sniffed. Law simply acted as though he hadn’t heard his eldest crewmate, continuing with sorting his study materials. “It still gets tingly, you know.”

“That’s because you probably have carpal tunnel, not because of anything I did,” Law replied dully. “I’d fix it for you if you let me near your arm next time you experience localized paresthesia.”

Penguin and Shachi exchanged an exasperated look before looking at Bepo, who shrugged helplessly. The sooner they could get their captain off this rock, the sooner he’d be less of a dick, they supposed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

While the crankiness that the Hearts dealt with as Law was studying for his exam was unbearable, the exam itself was even worse. Law sat in the large room with dozens of other applicants; it was warm and stuffy and smelled like burnt coffee and body odor. He was the youngest person in the room by-far, which was something that he knew others noticed. The uncomfortable feeling of eyes on him raked against the young man as he sat at his seat and readied himself alongside all the other candidates. He knew that not only was he not someone who had been through courses with everyone else there, but he looked different—like his father—and there had to be at least a few people in the room aware enough to put two and two together. The Doctors Trafalgar had both done plenty of talks on neighboring islands, after all.

In both an instant and forever, the exam was done. The room was made to put down their pens and Law began to panic, knowing there was too much test left. He put all the papers in order in their folder and handed them in despite his nerves. Before he realized it, the teen was vomiting in the bushes outside of the university hall, Penguin and Shachi holding onto him while Bepo wrung his paws in distress.

“What the fuck has you like this, Cap?” Shachi wondered as Law finished dry-heaving. The younger man was still shaking unsteadily within his grasp.

“I… I couldn’t finish the test,” he croaked, voice raw. “They kept staring at me… and I couldn’t even finish…”

“Maybe they design it so no one finishes?” Bepo offered.

“That doesn’t help,” Law moaned. He stood up and weakly shook off Penguin and Shachi. Neither of them backed away, which he took in stride. “I still just sat an exam I didn’t finish—I always finish my exams.”

“Last time you finished an exam you were ten,” Penguin reminded him.

“Nuns don’t make it easy,” Law reasoned as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Something sat in the pit of his stomach, seeped into his empty stomach and weary heart, and he frowned. Fuck… of all the things… “I don’t think I passed.”

“Can’t you retake it?” Bepo asked.

“In six months,” Law replied, “and I don’t want to stick around that long. We can’t afford it.”

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Penguin assured. “Now, what are we going to have for dinner? I’m fucking starved.”

Law laughed awkwardly as his friends began to discuss their dinner options, thinking that his sitting of the boards exam was cause for celebration. He allowed himself to be dragged along to the celebration, despite not feeling much like partying or eating, and spent the entire rest of the day and into the evening trying to calm himself down the best he could.

‘They know,’ he kept on thinking. He felt hyper-aware of everything—of everyone—as they sat in a pub with food and beer for the rest of the night. Bepo even had his first drink, much to the bear’s disgust, and provided the other two goobers with entertainment that lasted for hours.

“C’mon, Cap,” Shachi chuckled, his words on the verge of slurring. Law had lost count of how many beers any of them had, yet it was not enough for him to not cringe as his crewmate threw his arm over his shoulder and leaned in. “You gotta loosen up at some point tonight.”

“I don’t really feel like it,” Law replied for what was likely the dozenth time. “I don’t even really want to be here.”

“I don’t either,” Bepo squeaked. “I feel sick.”

“You barely finished your pint!” Penguin scolded.

“I’m sorry! It just tastes so gross!”

“Your first few pints are supposed to be gross.”

“I don’t think how it’s supposed to go…”

“Ah, we’ll make a man out of you yet,” Penguin scoffed. He looked at Law over the rim of his mug and shrugged. “Eat something; you look like you’re going to pass out.”

“No.”

“I don’t really think it counts as mutiny if I act for the good of the captain,” he reminded him. Law rolled his eyes and busied himself with one of the whale fritters that were still on the table. “Good. Now, what are we going to do about those bounty hunter-looking types across the room that have been eyeing us for about an hour?”

Okay, it made him feel a little better that it wasn’t just something that had buried its way into only his brain. He watched as both Penguin and Shachi went and stood, the pair deciding to let their captain and navigator sit this one out—they had to take care of the kids somehow, and this was something they definitely knew how to do even when drunk as they were.

Law went and Shambled some takeaway boxes to the table—he was not letting whale fritters, fries, and Flevench-style croquettes go to waste because the idiots got into some trouble.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three days passed by slowly. Painfully. It almost made Law go completely mad. He sat in their rented house the entire time, pacing the floor. When he wasn’t pacing, he was bouncing his leg as he sat, or tossing and turning on his bed, or just being restless in general. It was enough to make his crew crazy, almost wishing they had waited out the results while on the Polar Tang. In fact, Bepo had to sit on Law in order to keep him from rushing to the door when the mail courier arrived, leaving Penguin to get it and Shachi open the envelope.

It didn’t matter one way or the other—he passed.

…he passed, but with a caveat.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I NEED A STAMP! DOES ANYONE HAVE A STAMP?!”

Law’s shouting fell on deaf ears as the rest of the Hearts rested on the beach of the island they were docked at. He needed just one more to take care of the Coo fee and it seemed as though his reserves had run dry. At least it seemed as though the News Coo was taking advantage of the delay, the bird relaxing in the sun of the Summer Island’s Spring.

“DOES ANYONE HAVE A STAMP?” he repeated, doing his best to allow his voice to carry. No one paid him any heed; there was plenty to do with their time on land that facilitated the accidental ignoring of their captain. Sunbathing, volleyball, splashing in the water, setting up for the night’s big barbecue/bonfire… it was looking as though the crew was going to have a great afternoon on the tiny spit of an island they were resting on.

Except, suddenly, Law opened a Room and swapped his crewmates with a bunch of barnacles that had not yet been scraped off the top overdeck, dropping everyone rather unceremoniously onto the wooden planks.

“Ow! Hey! What’d you do that for?!” Ikkaku snapped.

“Since no one listened to me the first time, I had to resort to drastic measures,” Law reasoned. “Does anyone have a stamp? The Coo’s waiting.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I got it,” Clione griped. He went below deck, returning to the rest of the crew being back on land as he held a postage stamp towards his captain. Law took it and attached it to the front of the thick, buff-colored envelope along with four others before offering it to the News Coo. The bird regarded it sourly before squawking in resignation, allowing Law to put it in his bag. “What’s it about this time, Captain?”

“Vitamin D intake in correlation to heavy metal poisoning’s effects on the Human body,” Law explained as the Coo flapped off. “I needed so many stamps because I included two copies.”

“One by Trafalgar Law about Amber Lead and…?”

“…one by Doctor Wittman Lars about arsenic and mercury,” he admitted. “I don’t think the case study about Jean Bart’s tinea pedis and its correlation to his days in captivity is ready yet; still needs some refining in regards to outlining the causation.”

“The entire world isn’t ready for Jean Bart’s feet; subjecting Lvneel to it is just plain cruel,” Clione shuddered. “The snail photos you had me take still haunt my nightmares.”

“Be glad you weren’t around for the Bed Bugs or Mange Debacle,” Law reminded him. Clione nodded silently in reply—all he wanted from that was the stories and he didn’t even really want those.

#yes I am uploading this at four-thirty in the morning what of it #One Piece #fan fiction #Trafalgar Law #Penguin (One Piece) #Shachi (One Piece) #Bepo #Heart Pirates #is this well-trodden area? probably. do i care? nah not really. #Trafalgar D. Water Law

[romanceboys]

(interview) gq korea february issue 2021 — shinee minho “i’m still as passionate as ever”

1. i heard that your schedule ran until dawn today. you still look energetic.  no matter how exhausted i am, my condition improves once i wake up and take a shower. because it’s like the usual morning routine. 2. you take pride in the fact that your stamina is second to none, right? it reminded me of something you said long ago. i wouldn’t go as far as to say that it’s my pride, but i do know my stamina is stronger than most. my energetic appearance is my positive characteristic as well. 3. moreover, it hasn’t been long since you were discharged from the marines.  well, it seems like my stamina has gotten better. hahaha. 4. there must be a lot that you want to do. what do you enjoy doing the most these days? since it’s not the kind of situation where i can roam about freely, i’ve been spending a lot of time with my family. i was with them on christmas and new year’s. i’d barely done this since debut so i think it was a good thing. even in the military, i missed my people the most. 5. that must be why on the day of your discharge you made a surprise appearance at taemin’s music broadcast waiting room. in your military uniform.  i rushed straight from pohang. the shinee members were gathered to support taemin, and the staff that had been with us for over ten years was present too. when i looked back on shinee’s activities in the military, the very fun and enjoyable memories felt vague, but on that day they became clear to me right away. this is why we’ve continued together for so long. 6. what do you talk about with your members? since we’re currently preparing for our album, we’ve been talking about us as a team a lot. things like shinee’s (future) direction and what we ought to show. 7. did you figure something out? up till now shinee has often attempted unique and novel challenges, musically and stylistically. there were times when things were derived from what we did first, or even times when we had to question ourselves “is this okay?” before taking a bold step. but because we're an idol group, we folded under inevitable stereotypes and could not ignore them. however, we now collectively agree on preserving our artistic aspect well in order to show off a more distinct musical colour. 8. agreed. can you tell us which song represents shinee’s identity? the title track of the 4th album ‘view’ was shinee’s turning point. prior to this, the group was mostly known for its strength in performance, but through this song we were able to show the type of musical colour we pursued. we tried deep house at a time when the genre was unknown to k-pop and though it was not done without reservations, we got the response we expected. it’s basically what the entire (odd) album stands for. 9. besides music or performance, is there any other scene that can portray shinee well? having overcome many obstacles, we can’t define ourselves simply by saying ‘yes, this is us.’ rather, if there were to be a documentary made on shinee, i wonder how it’d be like to have the opening scene unveil the members’ perfectly human state instead of their moments of glory. for instance, saying whatever i want to without hesitation. without worrying, without walking on eggshells.  10. are you a quiet person? though i do joke around easily, i try to be careful with my words. i’m more of a listener than a talker. 11. you lived entirely as choi minho in the military. did you live true to yourself or were you able to discover a new side? it’s both. i had a lot of time for introspection. i reflected on the time spent and thought about what was good or disappointing, it unveiled a side of me that i hadn’t even considered while working as shinee minho. rather than saying it changed me, i was able to understand myself more definitively as a person. what i could be honest about and careful with with people became clear to me, i also realised that my strengths can become my weaknesses. 12. what made you think that? i thought i had an outgoing personality, but in retrospect i was more concerned about the people around me than myself. the other party can only be at ease if i’m comfortable... i was so busy being considerate that i ended up becoming stressed without realising. 13. an upright and serious image comes to mind when we say minho, turns out there was a complicated reason for it. it’s because i wasn’t even aware of it. i believe it’s something i need to work on to become a better person. this is also why i’m looking forward to my thirties. i’m curious about the areas i’ll mature in. 14. among the expressions that describe minho are passion and giving it your all. when do you think was your most passionate era? when i debuted as shinee, practicing blindly and then promoting made me feel like i was lacking a lot which affected my confidence. after our first concert, however, i became less anxious and worried. i realised that there were many fans who supported me. all i could think of was that i had to give it my best. my passion from back then is still the same as ever. it’s my understanding that i’ve come all the way to the present without cooling down. 15. what meaning does passion hold for you? does it mean that you’re very ambitious/greedy? i used to think passion and ambition meant the same thing. i was very certain that you could achieve anything if you were ambitious enough and worked hard. i hypnotized myself into believing that because i wanted it so badly, not because i was being reckless. as i started gaining more experience, i began to differentiate between the two. if passion means doing what you can to the best of your abilities, then greed is limiting yourself when you try something new because you wonder whether you can do it well. and that is why confidence is important. if you’re confident, then you can carry greed with a positive energy. 16. have you now gotten used to acting and promoting as shinee at the same time? at first i thought i could do it even if it was difficult. turns out that wasn’t the case. killing two birds with one stone wasn’t as easy as i thought. i don’t want to let either go. instead of saying yes it’s hard or i’m disappointed in the results, i believe this is a problem i need to solve. 17. your first activity after discharge was acting. you made a special appearance in the drama ‘lovestruck in the city,’ what was your first line? “please wear this.” i cannot forget it. 18. why not? one of my favourite words is ‘first.’ your first experiences are always unforgettable. seconds are usually a vague memory. that’s why firsts are extremely meaningful. standing before the camera for the first time after discharge felt like i was starting anew. the scene wasn’t even that hard, but i was very nervous. just like the first time i acted, i vividly remember the day’s situation, people, the atmosphere, and the weather. 19. do you remember your first scene as well? it’s been more than a decade.  it was a one-episode short drama; the scene was filmed inside a tow truck. i don’t remember my line very well, but the actors, the hustle and bustle of the staff outside the window, the glaring sunlight, the tow truck i sat in for the first time are all still very vivid. i try not to forget it. 20. do you remember the first praise you received for your acting?  hm, many people around me say nice things, but i’ve never considered those as compliments. it’s because i don’t think i’ve done anything praiseworthy yet. so let’s just say my first praise doesn’t exist for now. 21. that is a very objective yet cool answer. then what do you think is something you need courage to do?  everyday things.... like cooking. i can’t bring myself to even think about it, but i should attempt it before it’s too late. 22. by the way, you started sns. you did say in an interview that you did not see the need for socials, so what changed your mind? i received so many letters from fans in the military. i read every single one of them, and in most of them fans asked me to share my daily life through sns. though i did joke around saying that i’d rather hold a personal photo exhibition than create socials, i got one as a present for fans who spent two years waiting for me. but i’m not sure if i can manage it well. 23. do you tend to record your personal life through pictures like others? haha. not at all. i’m working towards it these days. 24. when was your sns profile picture taken?  when i was three or four years old. i racked my brain over this too. whether to upload a sefie or to go for a cool vibe. 

translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit (source)

#shinee #minho #interview #210121 #translations #gq korea february issue 2021 #e:the story of light epilogue

[obsidianfr3sk]

true colors

@renegadesnet event 10: pride

↪ [ “But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things. Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.” ]

Summary: Two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore. 

Simon wanted a bigger flag. 

No. He wanted two. The biggest pride flags he could find.

AO3

Hello, friends!! I hope you’ve been having an excellent pride month and have been eating a lot rainbow cake and pissing off a lot of conservatives with the mere fact of your wonderful existence:’) As my contribution to this month and the event organized by @renegadesnet, I decided to write a fic focused on my favorite gay dads and their sons (bc I’m me, and you should have seen this coming.) 

Before you read, I want to give a trigger warning: at the start of a fic I talk about a homophobic attack, which is not graphic or violent per se (it’s someone in the middle of the night taking away the flag they put outiside the house), and I do discuss about internalized homophobia during some parts of the story. If you read it and are sensitive to this kind of stuff, proceed with caution and take care of yourself <3

Also, this entry is a collaboration with my talented mother @healing-winston-pratt, who is going to be uploading some fanart of this in a near future, so keep an eye on that👀 she’s the best skjhkjds thank you for accepting to collaborate, I feel this is a great bonding activity and I hope we can do this more often✨

I need to update my tag list because a lot of the people who were included are not active as active as they were before/changed their URLs. But I’m going to tag @the-wee-woo-rita @lackadae @all-weather-is-bad @chiyuki-hiro bc you guys are the only ones who are still active users who I had on my previous tag list lol

With that said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I think that despite the angsty parts, it came out really fluffy and domestic, it was fun to write. And to all my queer silbings who are reading this: I am very proud of you.  

But I see your true colors shining through.

I see your true colors, and that's why I love you.

So don't be afraid to let them show.

Your true colors,

true colors are beautiful like a rainbow

Simon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know he was gay.

There was a time when he didn’t know he was gay, of course. He was probably too young to even comprehend the meaning behind that word. And there was also a moment in his life when he felt embarrassed about it, and sad, and angry, and really, really scared, and probably thought that no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be happy living the life he wanted to live.

That the pain was never going to end. That he was going to be miserable for the rest of his existence, and that maybe, there was no point in existing if he was going to stay like that until the day he died.

But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things.

Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.

That was the reason why, the first year after the Day of Triumph, he told Hugh they should get a rainbow flag for their house. They went to one of the first stores that opened at the mall (that had just been remodeled after twenty years of being abandoned) and bought one at a not so affordable price. Simon offered himself to install it on one of the fence pillars and had to spend thirty minutes listening to Hugh telling him that maybe he should let him do it, that the ladder Kasumi had lent them was ratty, and that Simon was going to fall.

Fortunately, Simon didn’t. He did almost fall, though, when he was about to pass out from stress because seeing Hugh getting all anxious, made Adrian cry and he started to basically beg him to come down, given that now he was convinced he was going to fall, and hearing his dad saying “Look what you’ve done to the kid, Simon” didn’t help at all to make Adrian (or Simon) feel better.

That night, there was a thunderstorm and Adrian used it as an excuse to sleep on their bed. As soon as he cried himself to sleep, two hours later, after their dads did everything in their power to calm him down, hugging him, giving him kisses, and assuring him his aunt Tamaya wasn’t going to let the storm hurt them, Simon raised his hand to high-five Hugh and tell him that they were amazing parents, just to realize he was already asleep. Simon silently judged him for sleeping so soundly while his son was having a crisis instead of sleeping.

When he woke up (at five in the morning) Adrian was looking out their window, with the Baby Indomitable blanket on his shoulders. The sky was still cloudy, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

“Darling, what are you doing?,” Simon told him. “Today’s Sunday. Let your daddy and I get some more sleep—”

“The storm took our flag,” Adrian blurred out.

Hugh was already awake too. “What?”

“You said the storm wasn’t going to hurt us,” Adrian said, turning around to see them, “but the storm took our flag.”

Simon got out of bed, looked through the window...

And, yes, the flag was completely gone.

But for some reason, Simon knew it hadn’t been the storm.

“Why would the storm do something like this?” Adrian asked.

Simon didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily, Hugh did.

“Because the storm is homophobic, son.”

Adrian laughed out loud and then asked his dads if they could have pancakes for breakfast. He had already forgotten about the storm and the flag.

They didn’t. Neither of them ever forgot about it.

While Simon and Adrian ate their pancakes, Hugh went to his office because, according to him, he needed to check something. When Adrian finished his breakfast and went back to his dads’ room to watch TV, Simon stayed in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and Hugh finally came downstairs. He was pretty quiet, and Simon thought that it probably was because he had told him to eat the burnt pancakes he didn’t dare to throw away, but after he finished them all, he said:

“I lied.”

Simon threw a glance at him. “When did you lie?”

“When I said the storm was homophobic,” Hugh answered.

“Well, of course, you lied, love. Storms don’t have strong political opinions about gay people.”

Hugh didn’t laugh. “What I mean is— that it wasn’t the storm.”

Every joke Simon’s brain could come up with disappeared at that moment. So he continued doing the dishes, and Hugh, thinking he hadn’t made himself clear, continued talking.

“It was someone else. It was a person. I saw them on—”

“I know,” Simon interrupted him. “I know. I’ve always known.”

But even if Simon knew, he still told Hugh to show him the footage because four eyes were better than two (especially considering that the owner of those first two eyes needed to wear glasses). It was all useless, though; the storm made the image all blurry, and the only thing they could see was someone taking it and running away in the middle of the night.

Simon wanted to think that it was just some dumb teen whose friends had  challenged him to do it. But when it came to things like those one never really knew.

On Monday, they had promised Adrian to take him to the park that was a few blocks away so they could teach him how to fly a kite, but the thought of going out made him feel as if something bad was going to happen to them if they did, so Simon told Adrian that he and Hugh were feeling sick and that they would stay in their room to get some rest. Adrian asked them if they minded that he stayed there too because he was in the middle of watching a movie he had never seen before.

“Only if we can watch it with you,” Simon answered.

It was a weird day to be alive. They really just stayed there, watching silly cartoons with their kid and listening to him ranting about the weird proportions those characters had.

During the afternoon, Adrian told them he was hungry, so Simon went downstairs to look for something they could eat. He was thinking that maybe they should order something from that Chinese restaurant Tamaya had taken him the other day, when Hugh entered the kitchen and told him Adrian had  asked him if he could bring him water.

Simon felt his hands were trembling while he looked inside his wallet for the paper where he had written the restaurant’s phone number.

“Do you want to get another flag?” Hugh asked him.

And something hurt.

Something hurt inside of him. Something started to cry, and to scream, and to flicker, trying to make him invisible to the world.

And it told him, the same way Adrian had told him he was hungry, that someone had taken him by surprise and made a deep cut on his chest.

But Simon didn’t allow it to come out.

He just said: “No.”

And Hugh answered him: “Me neither.”

He called the Chinese restaurant to order some food, while Simon went to their room with Adrian again and cuddled with him, trying to tend to the wounds of that something that was bleeding out inside of him.

Little Simon was crying, and screaming, and flickering, and needed adult Simon to take care of him.

The next day, they talked about the incident with the rest of the Council during their lunch break. It was one of those few occasions the six of them were together in the same room during their work hours. Tamaya was furious about the flag situation. She ranted for a good five minutes without anyone interrupting her about how fucking horrible people were and that she was going to find that little piece of shit and cut his hands off. Kasumi nodded in approval while drinking some horchata she had bought for herself, probably thinking about how to ask Tamaya to let her join her revolution (something she didn’t need to do, since Tamaya always included Kasumi in everything she did). Evander, on the other hand, was very quiet, something that made him feel a little bit relieved because he was not a sensitive person and Simon didn’t want him to... Evander  the situation.

He didn’t say anything insensitive that day, though.

In fact, he said something… helpful, even.

“What about a flag made of light?” 

Hugh rubbed his eyes and Simon knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Because he said that phrase constantly.

“Shut the fuck up, Evander.”

But Evander didn’t shut up. “Dude, think about it. No one would be able to take down a flag made of light.”

And everyone realized that, now, it was not only one of those strange occasions when the six of them got together to have lunch during their work hours; it was also one of those strange occasions when Evander had an idea that was actually good.

So after spending another hour discussing how they were going to make it work, they decided they were going to lit up the building in rainbow-colored lights.

Tamaya and Hugh were the ones in charge of almost all the operation because Evander said he had already given them the idea, so he didn’t need to do anything else (and then got mad at Hugh when he told the media he was the one who came up with it). Kasumi helped them, but was especially insistent about putting a trans pride flag somewhere in the building, and after they agreed with her, she personally hung it on the main entrance of Headquarters.

They started turning the lights on each night of June since that yeat.

Hugh and Simon still didn’t get a flag. Three nights after they told their friends about what had happened during the thunderstorm, Simon was woken up by the sound of someone crashing against the trash cans and almost jumped out of the window with his dagger  on hand to slay whoever was trying to break into their house, but when he peeked out to see what was going on, he realized the “robber” was Kasumi, who had put a bunch of small pride flags on some pots they kept on their porch and started crying as soon as she realized Simon was watching her, not because she was upset the surprise she had for them had been ruined, but because now she was covered in trash.

(That week was like a sign Georgie was sending them from the afterlife to tell them they needed to install a better security system.)

Those were the only flags they kept around the house. They were small and discreet, and, most importantly, no one had taken them away. Why? Well— because they listened to Georgie’s sign and installed a better security system. Not because there weren’t any more homophobes out there who were willing to do it.

Until that moment, those flags (the little ones Kasumi had given them in a rather unconventional way and the one made of light that Evander had come up with) had been more than enough for them. But, two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two.

The biggest pride flags he could find.

 ***

That was the reason why, after having pancakes for breakfast (because it had rained during the night), he took the car, took the other three people living in that house with him, and after he was able to read the map, they arrived at a store that, among other things, sold flags like the ones they were looking for.

“I want one too,” Adrian told them when they were at the flag section of the store. “For my room, you know. And I want to get ones for Danna and Nova because I don’t think they have any. They would’ve told me.”

Usually, when Adrian asked for something Simon hadn’t agreed to buy him, like some candy, an action figure, or a pair of sneakers, he would turn around and ask him if he had the money to buy any of those things himself, which would anger him so much he would stop wanting that certain thing.

But that day, he felt like buying them everything they wanted. As if money grew on trees (something he always told his kids didn’t happen.)

“Of course, darling,” he answered, “get them everything you want. It’s pride month.”

“It’s May 31th,” Max said. He was inside the shopping cart Hugh had grabbed the second they entered. It was something he always did, even if they weren’t going to buy a lot of things because, according to him, it felt weird and wrong not to.

“It’s almost pride month,” he corrected himself.

“So can I get something for Nova?” Adrian asked again, just to make sure.

“You can get something for Nova,” Hugh assured him, smiling a little bit.

Adrian quickly turned around and started looking for the flag he wanted while texting Nova about something Simon couldn’t read (not like he was trying to, anyway).

After making sure Adrian stayed on the same aisle as them, they started walking around, gazing at the flags and posters available. Simon felt pretty progressive because he was able to name every single sexuality and gender they were supposed to represent. He imagined Hugh was doing the same thing, but with a lot more difficulty than him. He kept his eyes fixated on each flag longer than Simon did, as if he were trying to remember what they meant, and when he did, he pushed the cart (with Max still inside of it, playing a game on Hugh’s phone because he had forgotten his tablet at home), and the cycle began again.

But suddenly, Simon saw ones that he didn’t recognize.

After three seconds of standing in front of those little flags, someone hit him in the butt with their cart. He turned around immediately, ready to say a really threatening “Hey” to whoever had done it.

Hugh was the only other person who was there. He had been the one who had hit him with the cart.

Suddenly, Simon felt a little bit stupid for thinking someone else had done it.

The two of them maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds until Hugh started looking at his own hands grabbing the cart’s handle.

“Simon.” Before Simon could ask him what happened, he added, with a deep voice: “Move.”

Simon didn’t move. Instead, he hit the cart with his hips, just out of spite. Hugh hit him again with it, making Simon feel the unexpected need to grab the cart with his two hands and use his own weapon against him, but Max was there and they couldn’t act like kids in front of him. So he just hit the cart with his hips again, a little bit harder than the first time, and left it there.

He realized he was just going to be wasting his time asking Hugh if he knew what that flag was supposed to represent.

“Cherub,” he called Max. “Do you recognize this flag?”

Max looked up from the screen. He usually didn’t like it when he called him “cherub” in public, but this time, he didn’t seem mad about it. “Um… no? Ask Adrian—” and continued playing.

Adrian came back with a basket full of pins, and for a second, Simon almost asked him if he really was that naive to believe he was actually going to pay for all of them. But then, he realized that it was only the basket where they kept all of the pins they sold and that Adrian had taken it to show them to them.

“Look, they have so many pins here—” he started taking random pins “—this is the aromantic flag… this is the genderfluid flag—”

“Interesting,” Hugh interrupted him, “but which flag is that one?” and pointed at the one Simon didn’t recognize.

Max took a random pin from the basket and started looking at it with curiosity. Adrian almost didn’t pay attention to it, and after a few seconds, he said: “That one’s yours.”

Simon frowned and took one. It was a handheld flag with green and blue stripes, with a white one in the middle. He touched the polyester with his fingertips as if that was going to give him the ability to communicate with it.

“But we don’t have a flag,” Hugh told Adrian. “I’ve heard of the lesbian fl—”

Adrian took a pin of the lesbian flag. “This one.”

“Yeah— but gay men don’t have one.”

“The rainbow is ours,” Simon said, without taking his eyes away from the blue and green flag he was holding. “Like, it’s for all queer people.”

Hugh directed his attention to Adrian again. “You’re messing with us.”

“I do mess with you a lot,” Adrian admitted, “but this time I’m not because if I do and you get mad, you won’t buy me all the stuff I want to get.”

“Huh.”

Simon knew Adrian and Max were a lot of things, but "dumb" wasn't one of those. And Adrian was especially intelligent when it came to convincing his parents to buy him things.

So he decided to believe him.

“Well, I like it,” he said. Then, he asked Hugh: “Do you like it?”

Hugh grabbed one and observed it for a while. “I like that it has blue on it,” he finally answered, nodding a little bit.

Simon noticed Max was spacing out while playing with the pin he had taken, so he waved the flag on his face, making him laugh and sneeze because the damn thing had a lot of invisible dust Simon didn't notice at first.

“Oh, sh—”

“You know? Maybe we should get two of these,” Hugh said, waving it too, but in his case, not on the face of one of their kids. “For our offices.”

“Matching flags, very romantic.”

Max rubbed his nose. “Why don't you get a big one for the house?”

Simon quickly started to look everywhere on that aisle, and he saw a lot of big versions of the flags he had recognized before (and some of the ones Adrian had mentioned), but there were no gay flags in sight.

“Maybe next year, I guess,” he shrugged. “I don't think they have them here yet.”

He grabbed two of the rainbow flags that were there, inside their respective plastic bags, gave them to Max, and he put them on his lap, still holding that pin. Simon made a quick mental note to remind his future self they needed to pay for that (he didn’t know if it had to with the fact that Max had been spending a lot of time with Maggie, Nova’s sister, but he had developed this weird habit of stealing the most random objects one could think of. Luckily, he limited himself to stealing things from his dads and, one time, from a store.) (Kids went through weird phases when they were Max’s age.)

(Because… it was a phase, right?)

Adrian received a text. “Danna says that she already has a flag, so I’m getting her a pin,” he said after reading it. “And Nova says she wants one too.” Then, his whole face lit up. “And I could get one too so we match.”

“Copycat,” Simon accused him, jokingly. “Your dad and I got matching flags, and now you want to get matching pins with your girlfriend.”

Hugh shook his head, disappointed. “I cannot believe you have betrayed your own family like this.”

They stayed at the store another 30 minutes to buy some other things they needed for the house, and from time to time, when he or Hugh grabbed something, they pretended they didn’t see Adrian and said: “Um, but the copycat may be listening” to a point he told them to stop, and refused to forgive them until they agreed to buy him the flag he didn’t intend to get anymore, but now was going to.

He got the last bisexual flag there was at that store.

 ***

The first time the four of them were together in their room was last June. Something went wrong with the A/C system of the entire house and the only room where one could stay without having a heatstroke was theirs because their A/C hadn’t broken down for some reason. Adrian and Max were sleeping on the air mattress until Simon (who hadn’t been able to sleep lately) heard that one of them woke up and asked Hugh something. He sat down on the bed, at the same time Hugh moved a little bit to allow Adrian to lay down between the two of them.

Then, in the middle of the dark, his eyes met Max’s.

He looked tiny. Young. Pretty young.

And far away.

Simon couldn’t remember who did it. He didn’t remember who talked that night. It could have been him, even. But he was sure that, at that moment, someone whispered:

“Get in here, kid.”

And Max obeyed. He crawled, raised his arms towards them, and Hugh grabbed him carefully by the collar of his shirt and placed him between him and Adrian.

It was a peaceful night. The bed was big enough for the four of them, and Simon was able to sleep and actually rest for the first time in weeks.

At least until their A/C turned off with a weird sound, and the four of them woke up at the same time, sweaty, uncomfortable, and almost at 11 AM, not because they weren’t necessarily willing to stay there longer, but because the heat was starting to get unbearable and suddenly the bed was too small for three adults and a little kid that was not that little anymore.

“This isn’t a room, this is a— a freaking oven,” Hugh said, while Adrian tried to push him out of bed to get the hell out of there and seek comfort on the air mattress he had abandoned in the middle of the night.

“And we are the... cookies,” Max giggled.

“The turkey,” Simon added.

Max turned around. His whole face was red and his hair was a little bit wet. “The lasagna.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks; a discreet way to check if he had a fever. “The cake.”

“The ham.”

“The—”

“Dad. Move.”

Later that day, Simon called someone to fix the A/C, and that was the end of the story.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian wanted to hang his flag as soon as possible, on one of his room’s walls, but Simon insisted that they should iron it first so it looked nicer. Hugh said that he was planning on ironing the ones they had bought for the house and offered Adrian to do the same with his, but when he insinuated that he didn’t trust him enough not to mess up his flag the same way he had messed up his favorite shirt (the one he wanted to wear to take Nova to a nice place during her birthday), Hugh reminded him that the only reason he kept doing that for him was that Adrian didn’t know how to iron yet, and decided that he was going to use that moment as a teaching opportunity. Max made the mistake of laughing at his brother when he thought no one was paying attention to him, but Adrian was and dragged Max into the teaching opportunity with him.

Simon joined too. Just because.

And suddenly, the four of them were in their room again.

With the A/C on, of course.

He didn't know if Hugh had noticed, but he had been so invested in his own explanation, that after he finished ironing the two rainbow flags, he started ironing Adrian’s without realizing it. Adrian, instead of giving up and stop pretending he was paying attention, was looking, kind of mesmerized, how he opened the bag of his blue, purple, and magenta flag, and proceeded to put it on the ironing board, now telling him that when Georgie had tried to teach him how to iron his clothes, she accidentally burnt Evander.

Simon was half-listening to the story, half-listening to the music video that Max was watching on the TV. He was sitting on a big and old ottoman they had bought a long time ago but had never found the perfect place to put it and just stayed there for years until they forgot about it. Max was in front of him, sitting on the floor and resting his back on the ottoman, while he covered his blond hair with small butterfly hair clips he had found at the store and bought just because he thought they were cute (who knows, maybe Nova wanted them for Maggie, or Kasumi could use them for herself, she loved them when she was little).

When all the hair clips were on Max's hair, he took a small mirror they kept in the bathroom (but Simon borrowed it for a minute) and gave it to him so he could see the final result.

“Look at me,” Max exclaimed, laughing. “I look so pretty.”

Simon grabbed one of the hair clips and pulled it a little. “Butterfly hair clips are a popular trend this time of the year.”

“This is definitely going to make me the most popular kid in the playground.”

“Definitely.”

He leaned forward to start taking the butterfly hair clips off Max's hair and was putting them on Max’s open hand when he noticed that he hadn’t let go of the pin they bought him at the store.

(Simon did remember to pay for the thing, but if he hadn’t done it, Max wouldn’t have said anything.)

“That was really nice of you,” Simon said.

Max looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Getting a rainbow pin—” he took his other hand and started putting the hair clips on it so none of them would get lost “—to show support.”

Max didn't say anything and Simon continued with what he was doing. After the music video finished, and another one started playing, Hugh gave Adrian his flag and told him he could go and hang it in his room, and as soon as Max heard that too, he gave Simon the hair clips and followed his brother out of the room, asking him if he could help him with it.

Simon, after realizing the bag where the hair clips came in had been destroyed by Max punching holes in it with the pin, took one of the empty pill bottles he kept in his drawers and put them there.

He closed the pill bottle and realized Hugh had been gazing at him during all this time, slightly leaning on the ironing board. “What?”

“That’s my pill bottle, Si,” he told him.

“Ah—” Simon pressed his lips “—can I have it?”

“No.” Hugh smiled at him. “Yes, you can.”

“So funny. Come here—” and patted the bed mattress.

Hugh, being extremely careful not to touch the flags he just ironed, lied on the bed and sighed.

“Do you want me to play with your hair?” Simon asked him with a soft voice.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

After a while of the two of them just being silent, he said, “Hey… I heard what you told Max, by the way.”

“The butterfly hair clips trend?”

“The pin thing.”

“What about it?”

Hugh opened his eyes, just a little bit. “Just don't tell Max I told you, all right? Because he told me he wouldn't tell anyone else until he was sure, but… I think it's important the two of us know,” he explained.

Simon was starting to feel his palms get a little bit sweaty. “Okay— but just tell me, please.”

He checked overhearing their conversation one last time, and that the kids were still at Adrian's room. “Max told me a couple of days ago that he has been thinking about… what he likes.”

He stopped playing with his hair for a second. But then, he continued.

It was his way of coping with the feeling of his stomach twisting inside of him. “What he likes?” Hugh nodded again. “Huh. And has he— does he has an idea or—”

“No, he doesn't,” Hugh answered. “He just knows that he doesn't like girls. Or that's what he told me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “That sounds like a lot of things. Not liking girls.”

Hugh scoffed too. “That's what I told him. And that he can take all the time he needs to figure it out. Because he can—”

“Yes. Yes, of course, he can,” Simon assured, with determination. “Life is longer than we think it is.”

They stayed silent again. And Simon couldn’t help but feel relive inside his head the moment he called Max an ally, feeling his stomach twisting even more at every second it passed.

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

His palms started to sweat again. “Because I called him an ally.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“You didn’t know,” Hugh repeated.

But Simon didn’t listen. “Si.”

Then, Hugh grabbed him carefully by the wrist, and, a little bit surprised, Simon tilted his head. Hugh usually didn't interrupt him when he was playing with his hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” he deadpanned

Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just his way of asking things. Especially when he was genuinely worried and didn’t think about modulating his tone so it It fitted the situation better.

He sighed. Because he didn’t want to lie to him. “I assumed Max was straight.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how silly it had sounded phrased like that. But he also noticed his voice had broken and he had to put a hand on his mouth so he didn’t start crying.

And Hugh, instead of saying the encouraging phrase he expected him to say…

He smiled.

And for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. “Ew, why are you smiling?” he asked.

Hugh took his time to answer him. “Oh, it’s nothing.  I think I'm just… happy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hugh smiled more. “I know, love, I know… It's just one of those things…” he tried to find the right words this time. “One of those things I didn't think we were going to go through together,” he kept saying. “Like… we're going to be together when Max finally discovers who he really is. Like we did with Adrian. And like other people did with us. And that makes me happy.”

Simon wanted to tell him to shut up and let him cry and be dramatic as much as he wanted because he considered he deserved it. But he tried to do it, the only thing that could come out of his lips was almost imperceptible “Yeah…” and then, a small tear started running down his face. Hugh quickly noticed this and wiped it away with his finger. Simon scoffed and looked away, rubbing his nose.

“Hey…” and he moved aside so Simon could lay beside him.

The space they had was a little too small but he didn’t mind because now he had an excuse to be closer to him.

And there it was again. Little Simon. Little Simon was there again with them.

Just that this time he wasn’t crying, or screaming, or even flickering. He was just… existing.

And all he wanted to do was to exist.  

When Hugh held him that way, sometimes he felt as if it was the first time he did it. Which made Simon (and the sad, angry and scared part of Simon) wonder if there was a sad, angry and scared part of Hugh that also craved that comfort and validation, and if it was the one who hugged that younger version of Simon until they convinced each other that everything was fine.

That there was nothing wrong with neither of them.

Because sometimes it was as if people didn’t remind them that as many times as they needed. So the only option they had was to be there for the other, and tell him that it was okay to hug, to kiss, to touch, and to share until the one who was talking ended up convincing both of them.

Love wasn’t temporary.

And their love was as powerful as they wanted it to be.

Those younger versions of themselves wanted to stay like that forever every single time. But their adult versions knew they couldn’t do it because they had other responsibilities that they needed to attend.

Installing those two pride flags that were next to them, for example.

Their younger versions were excited to do that, but they also asked them if they could rest together a little bit longer. And neither of them had the heart to tell them no.

Hugh started to play with a lock of Simon’s hair. “We’ll be there to catch him.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about either of them. Even if, with his eyes closed, he could see little Hugh and little Simon holding each other’s hands and throwing themselves into the world, a little less sad, and angry, and scared than before, without being sure if there was going to be someone down there to catch them if everything went wrong.

“Together.”

And Simon agreed. “Together.”

 ***

“He’s going to fall.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Hugh told Max. “I’m here.”

“But what if—”

“Done,” Simon announced before Max could even finish his sentence. “Now, let’s just hope these things stay there as long as possible, because this ladder makes me anxious. I was trembling while putting the first flag.”

Max clicked his tongue. “It’s a windy day. The wind could have pushed the ladder or something.”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Take my hand.”

Simon went down the ladder without letting go of his hand. Then, while Hugh took it and quickly went inside the garage to put it there, Adrian pricked his little brother up with his own rainbow flag pin, and in response, Max punched him in the stomach with all his might (which wasn’t that much). Adrian laughed and pretended to be hurt, but immediately asked him if he wanted him to help him with his pin.

Simon noticed that Adrian had already put his pin of the bisexual flag on his clothes, and watching him pull Max a little bit closer so he didn’t prink him again (now by accident), while Max gazed at his hands, trying to memorize his movements so he could do the same thing when he wanted to wear that pin again, made his mouth curved into a smile.

When his husband came back from the garage, he thought he was going to tell them to stop blocking the sidewalk and get in the house so they could continue with their day. But instead of doing that, he walked towards them and looked at their waving flags, flying on their mansion for the first time in years.

Adrian grabbed Max by the waist and carried him on his shoulders so he could have a better view. And he realized that there would be a day when they would throw themselves into the world completely alone, without knowing how people were going to act and aware that two of them were brave enough to take whatever blows that they were going to throw at them.

But they weren’t going to do it alone. Because Hugh, Simon, and their hurting parts weren’t going to spend a day without reminding them that they were going to be there, ready to catch them every single time they needed it.

Simon started to look for Hugh’s hand just to realize, Hugh was already looking for his too, and when they found each other, he couldn’t contain himself and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Then, Hugh smiled and kissed him back, this time, on the corner of his lip.

Simon felt proud of what they were.

He was really proud.

And he hoped they were proud too.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #adrian everhart #max everhart #everhart-westwood family #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #obsi's writs #i should get an oscar for the homophobic storm joke

[heyheshi]

Moving Out

2.2k words

written and uploaded: August 20, 2020

🌙 - angst

Please like and reblog! Also please don't post my writings anywhere!

Pure angst! Tell me what you think!

Masterlist

_________

You never thought you could cry this much for hours to no end. Harry were always there to comfort you whenever you feel down, and you to him.

You never thought that there would come a time where you'll be packing your bags at two thirty am on a Wednesday night. When you first moved in, you were so sure that the next time you have to pack all of your belongings is when you and Harry moves in to your own new home.

You never thought you and Harry will reach this breaking point. You always thought that a little fight here and there would be fixed but not this one, not at all. 

You always thought that you and Harry are the end game after hours and hours of talking about your future together - like what type of house you two are going to get after being engaged, or what type of wedding you wanted and the honeymoon place he would pick, or how many little you and him you wanted, if you wanted a pet and everything - but all of that seems too far away to reach now.

You wiped your tears as you tried to calm yourself down and finish packing. You pack in a matter of minutes especially when you're about to see Harry or when you two decided to have a spontaneous getaway but now even picking up a shirt takes you minutes to put in your bag.

Your heart churns at the thought of leaving this house, of leaving the memories behind, of leaving Harry but you have to be strong and to keep on going.

With a shaking hands, you zipped up your second luggage that contains the rest of your clothes, fanning yourself with your clammy hands as you looked around your shared room where it all ended.

---

"I can't keep doing this to myself Harry! I can't keep pretending anymore!", you said pacing in front of your shared bed where Harry sits.

Harry sighs as he rubbed his face with his hands, "let's just sleep this out, okay? We'll talk about this tomorrow, I'm knackered babe.", your boyfriend said as he slowly lowers his body to the bed to sleep.

"No!", you stomped your left feet hard on the carpeted floor you can feel the pain on your feet, "were talking about this now! I'm tired Harry...", lowering your head as you said the next few words, "I'm so so so tired!", you cried out making Harry look at you.

You never wanted to let him know how tired you are, you love him and would never be tired of doing so but you're tired of this constant back and forth that's been going on for weeks now where it seems like no one can hear you.

"It was just a stunt and you knew better than anyone else to believe that!", throwing his hands in the air, your boyfriend is now back to his sitting position again, starting to get frustrated.

"I understand that, but making out? Really Ha-"

"That's for the media! Goddamnit!"

Frustrated tears started to come out of your eyes making your eye contact break, "it's not just about that! You never had any time for me anymore and its so-"

"Oh Y/N, you're being selfish right now, love!", your breath hitched from your boyfriend's sarcastic reply, the way he said it feels like you're not talking to Harry - your Harry.

Composing yourself as quickly as your breath tumbled, you pointed your pointer finger at him, "stop interrupting me! I can't do this anymore, H!"

Harry met your eyes for a quick second where you think you almost saw something flashed in his eyes but it was gone way too quick as he started to yell at you back, "you said you're okay with it?! I needed publicity!"

"I was! At first I was...", feeling defeated you started to lower you voice, "but then as month passes you seem to have forgotten that you have a girlfriend in real world! And I'm sorry if this girlfriend can't give you the publicity you needed!"

"Then what do you want, huh? Want me to tell the management that my 'real girlfriend' couldn't handle a stunt and is crying like a baby right now?! Is that what you want Y/N?!"

You wanted to slap him, to punch him repeatedly, to yell more and more at him just so he can feel how hurt and frustrated you are but in the midst of everything, your love for him still wins. You know you couldn't hurt him no matter how much he hurt you so you only told him what you think is the best thing to do right now, "I want us to take a break..."

"A break?", Harry asked. 

The thought of taking a break scares you more than anything right now but you'd rather do it than risk not having to fix any of this.

"I'm not breaking up with you H, I just need to think this out an-"

"Only a few only comes back after a break...", he started, "but fine, Kendall's here anyways. The fans don't know we're dating so it's not going to affect the sales."

"Wow Harry, just wow! Are you being serious right now?", you tried to mask the crack in your voice but it seems useless as Harry probably doesn't notice it anyway.

"What?"

Your continuous tears continues to make its way out while Harry doesn't seem to look bothered, "you're unbelievable! You're thinking about 'that' right now as were falling apart? Kendall?! And the money?!", wiping your tear streaked face with your arms.

Harry used to wipe your tears from your face saying that he hates seeing you cry unless its happy tears and he despise causing you pain but now, you're not sure if he even remembers it anymore. 

"It was what were fighting about in the first place! What else do you want?!", emphasizing his words but pointing his pointer finger at you as he walks on your place making you walk backwards.

"I just want you to give time for me! Just a bit!", your hips hit the small study table at the corner of the room making you cry in agony with the next few words, "just a bit H!"

"Don't you dare Y/N! You know this would happen the moment you decided to dat-"

"I KNOW! Fuck! I know!", you straightened your self and pushed your chest towards Harry, this time making him move backwards, "but the fact that you're spending so much time on her makes me think that this isn't just a PR stunt anymore..."

With a disbelief voice, Harry asks, "are you saying that I'm cheating on you?"

"Are you? Besides holding her hands and kissing her for the media?", you make you way past him slowly sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No. I would never do that to you, Y/N."

"Okay.", you replied, only looking at the door beside him.

Harry punched the wall near him making you look up in alarm, "okay? Just okay?!" 

You know he would never hit you but you can't seem to think straight anymore. 

"What else do you want me to say Harry?"

It's now Harry's turn to pace around the room, "I don't know, that maybe you believe me?"

"I wish i can...", you whispered, playing with your fingers, specifically the one on your left where you were so sure a ring would sit before tonight.

"I- you know what? Let's just finish this.", Harry said sternly.

You don't know what exactly he's saying but you're scared to find out and it's only a matter of time where your bubble can still keep you alive.

Slowly looking up to him, you started asking, "are you sayi-"

"Yes! Fuck! That's what you wanted right?", the frustration in his voice and in his face is too visible to ignore as he run both of his hand through his hair and pulling on it as if he's going crazy.

"I said a break! Not a break up Harry!", standing up as you yelled the words, ready fo fight for your relationship.

But Harry seems done, lowering his voice the same time he lowers his head, "it's the same thing, Y/N, it's the same thing..."

Maybe you're crazy, maybe you're not. Maybe you should take a break, maybe you shouldn't. Only there's one thing you're certain about - it's how much this is killing you and you're ready to burst but you still love him more than anything around you.

"Fine! You can go back to Kendall now! Were done!", it hurts you to say those words but you know you can't take it back now, "I don't know if I know you anymore, H...", what happened this night already happened and you couldn't take it back.

You look at Harry as he shakes his head 'no' then left the room making you cry harder. 

He used to be the one that wipes your tears away but now you have to do it for yourself, and what hurts the most is that he's the one that caused your tears.

---

Shaking your head to get rid of the fresh memory, you realized you're crying again. You took a few deep breaths and continued packing the rest of your stuff.

You're aim is to get out of here as fast as possible while Harry's still out. Finishing everything up as you closed the bathroom door and your last bag containing your toiletries and your shoes, making sure to not leave anything behind.

You made your way down the stairs after calling a Uber, taking two rounds of going back and forth upstairs to bring your four huge luggage downstairs.

Making your way to the kitchen to drink some water then going back to the living room to wait for the Uber, someone opened the front door.

From the kitchen, you can see a tipsy Harry looking at your bags on the floor, "what's this Y/N?"

"We're not together anymore so I'm moving out, don't worry my cab is on the way, you won't need to put up with me for a long time...", you said slowly walking towards him and your bags.

"You know you don't have to leave in the middle of the night, right? I'm not kicking you out but if you want to leave immediately, you could have done it tomorrow when the sun is up", he replied. The air around the house too thick for your liking.

"Why?", you asked.

"Love, you have nowhere to go right now and I still care about you.", his voice pleads you to stay until the morning where he knows you'll be much safer. You almost melted at his concern but you're far too deep to your emotions now.

"Don't call me love. You can't call me that anymore.", Harry lowers his head at your words, "and you don't seem to care earlier, what's the difference now?"

You two know that you both fucked up and you can't do anything about it now.

"I will always care about you, Y/N. I still love you, so much and I wish I can take back everything that's been said and done but I can't and I'm so sorry for everything. I still want u-", the honk outside interrupted his voice making him close his eyes tightly.

You know what's he's going to say but you're not sure if you're ready for it, or if you'll ever be ready for it.

Harry took two of your bags as you took the rest, not resisting his help anymore as you're too tired to fight him off.

Opening the door, the chilly wind touches your skin, "so this is it huh?", you looked up at Harry, your tears at bay again.

"I don't want this to be just it, Y/N...", Harry dropped your bags and pulled you to his chest tightly making you drop the bags you're holding too, "baby I'm so sorry...", he sobbed, "I wish I could ta-"

"What's done is done Harry...", you whispered on his chest that's thumping hard as you tighten your hold on him, "I love you H...", Harry repeatedly kissed your hairline at your words, still not wanting to let you go.

"I love you too and I still want us and if you still want me, you know where you find me...", with that, Harry kissed your forehead softly one last time before letting you go.

The driver helped you put your bags on the trunk of the cab, Harry still watching from his porch. You waved at him and went inside the cab, not breaking the eye contact even after the cab started moving, until you couldn't see him anymore.

You directed the driver to drop you to the nearest hotel as where you cried yourself until the next evening, questioning where the both of you went wrong and if your relationship is still worth saving for.

Everything around you is uncertain and unclear, you don't know where to live or how you're going to face the reality but there's one thing you're certain and clear above all - you love Harry and didn't regret meeting him.

_____

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles break up #harry styles angst #solo harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagines #harry styles drabble #harry styles prompt #harry styles preferences #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harries #harrie #heyheshiwritings

[jinmindeulle]

eyes ∣ jyh

eyes

word count: 3.1 k

genre: uncle!youtuber!yunho x kindergarten teacher!reader ∣ fluff

warnings: you might die of fluffiness

a/n: honestly i’m in love with yunho with kids so i came up with this oopsie

enjoy!

“Hi everyone, it’s me, your boy Yunho! How have you been?”

I look at Yunho quietly eating my pancakes, trying to understand what’s the appeal of recording yourself at half past six in the morning. He chats with the camera like it’s his best friend, and I keep finding it the cutest thing in the world.

I mean, Jung Yunho is the cutest thing in the world, so it’s not hard to find him cute while being his goofy self for his millions of fans who follow everything he does and uploads in his YouTube channel.

“Today it’s Friday, and I had the day off, so I could’ve just slept in. But guess what? As some of you already know, my girlfriend is a kindergarten teacher and today’s ‘Bring your kid to work day’ so-”

I almost choke while drinking my coffee, coughing and laughing at the same time. Yunho stops saying whatever he was saying to look at me from our couch. I give him a thumbs up so that he knows I’m fine, and trying to suppress the mocking smile that instantly appeared on his face, he returns his gaze to the camera to keep explaining today’s adventure.

As I am the youngest teacher that works in that daycare, I don’t have kids of my own to bring to work.

But I do have Yunho, who’s kind of like a kid.

Having in mind that he had the day off, I decided that it was worth the shot and asked the oldest teacher, Yeona — who also happens to be the director and owner of the daycare — if I could bring my boyfriend to work. As everyone there already knew him and his affection towards children, she didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

Yeona actually loves Yunho, and is always asking me how things are going between us. I know she silently wants us to get married and have kids as soon as possible, but she also is aware of the fact that even though Yunho and I have been together for over four years, we don’t want to rush into marriage just because our families — and everyone around us, actually — think we should.  

As I know Yunho more than he knows himself, I also asked if he could record his experience there. As long as he blurs the little kids’ faces…

“They let me record everything! So today I’m taking care of y/n’s school’s children and we’ll also have two special guests, so stay tuned! y/n, come say hi!” he turns to look at me and I quickly gulp down the last drops of my hot drink so that I can stand behind the couch and wave to the camera.

“Hello there!”

“How do you think I’ll be as a teacher today, love?” he asks, leaning his head into the back of the couch so he can look at me upside down.

“You’re pretty good with children so I think you’ll do amazingly.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that” he laughs, displaying that puppy-like grin of his. I melt with his smile and I don’t hold back my urge of kissing him, so I do just it. I caress his lips slowly with mine, slightly tasting the mint toothpaste he’s used ten minutes ago. I let go of them, laughing at his amused expression. “I wasn’t expecting that either” he cutely adds, cheeks and ears turning red.

“I am unpredictable, baby”

We get to the daycare thirty minutes before the kids arrive in order to set up today’s activities. Yunho kept recording the journey there, explaining to his audience that that was not the first time going with me, because he had accompanied and helped me plenty of times before.

“Oh, hi Jiyoung! Hi Seungho!” I greet my coworker and her son with a small hug.

“Did you bring your kid to work?” she asks, laughing while releasing me from the hug.

“Yeah, there he is” I chuckle, pointing at Yunho who’s talking to the camera once again while showing the parking lot, because he’s sure his Atiny will be interested in that.

We go inside the daycare, discarding our winter coats, scarves and gloves. Yunho is quick to follow, politely greeting Jiyoung and Seungho, leaving his camera over a shelf so that he can quickly record the whole process without having to set up his tripod. Once we are done, we leave the hallway in order to greet the rest of the teachers who are already inside.

“Jung Yunho, long time no see!” Yeona hugs him tight and squishes his cheeks, making Yunho blush. I take the camera away from his hands and capture the moment myself, making sure that his whole experience is completely stored inside the device.

“I missed you too, noona”

“Happy bring your kid to work day, y/n!” Daeun chuckles, engulfing me in a hug.

“I can’t believe I’m the youngest yet I brought a giant as my kid” I laugh, stepping out of her embrace.

“Y/n!” a cute voice shouts my name, and I feel a pair of tiny arms go around my legs. I look down and I find Daeun’s daughter, Jihye, looking at me with big doe eyes and a smile on her puffy face. Before I can do anything, Yunho’s hands grab the camera and I silently thank him. He busies himself making the three teachers say hi and introduce themselves to his subscribers, so I take that opportunity to greet my favorite child in the entire world. Well, my favorite after Haneul.  

“Hi sweet girl” I go down to her level so I can hug her tight, blowing raspberries in her reddened cheek and making her laugh.

“Mommy said that we will be making Valentine’s Day cards, that’s why I’m here!” she cutely squeals in excitement.

“Yes Jiji, I planned that art class for you and the kids. It’s going to be super fun!”

As I continue chatting with Jihye, three sleepy faces make their way out of the kitchen. Yeona’s grandchildren, Minsun and Hyunwoo, and Daeun’s oldest son, Jiho. They politely greet us, eyes going wide after seeing Yunho’s giant form behind me talking to their relatives.

“Yunho-hyung!” they scream his name so loud that he flinches, and cuts short his chat with the women to look at the commotion that revolves a few meters away from him.

“Hi kids!” he waves his hand, moving the camera to their direction so that he can include them in the video. “Say hi to Atiny!”

They energetically wave back, chuckling and jumping up and down. Sometimes I wonder if bringing Yunho to work is something that I should do more often. See, this is the reaction that every kid in this daycare has when seeing him. They get way too excited, paying attention to every lesson just because he is there helping them, and wanting him to have lunch with them in their tables. It always ends up with an argument among the children over who deserves to eat with Yunho. That’s how much they love him and enjoy having him around.

“Okay kids, calm down. We need to set up the three rooms before the children are here, what’s about to happen in the next fifteen minutes” says Yeona, which makes them quiet down instantly.

We quickly get to our things, me taking Yunho with me so he can help me with the organization of my art class.

“What do you want me to do, love?”

“In those shelves I have three cardboard boxes with all of the materials we’re using today. Take them out and distribute them as equally as possible throughout the tables. Leave the scissors over my desk, I don’t let the kids near them if we’re not supervising, so I’ll just give them away after they are paying attention. Oh, and you can set up the tripod for the camera over there if you want to record this” I instruct, showing him an empty spot beside my desk.

“I’m on it, thank you, love!” he quickly makes his way towards me, hugging me tight and leaving small kisses all over my face. I laugh at him, not quite believing that this big baby is my boyfriend. “And thank you for including me in your art class, I really enjoy helping the kids with their projects every time I have the chance to.”

“Thank you for coming, baby. It means so much to me.” I press a kiss on his lips and I get away from his arms, because I know that if I don’t, I’ll want to stay there forever.

We finish setting everything up in the next ten minutes, Yunho occasionally talking to the camera explaining today’s art lesson. I keep doing my job, barely making comments. As I only appear in his vlogs once in a blue moon, his fans may not be that accustomed to me, and you know how they can be towards their idol’s girlfriends. That’s why I try to keep my presence low in his channel, only featuring in his videos when he wants me to or when I inevitably have to be there, such as in this one.

“Oh, look who’s here!”

I glance outside the classroom, realizing that the first kids are already here. Making sure that everything is ready, I take Yunho’s arm “We have to go and say hi now, it’s going to be packed with children anytime soon”

“Coming!” he quickly grabs his tripod and camera, following me out of the room.

“Miss y/n! Oh, you brought Yunho-hyung too!” Minho, one of the loudest boys, instantly drops his mother’s hand in order to run towards Yunho and hug his legs. My boyfriend chuckles, passing me the camera and its tripod so that I can set it up again and keep recording while he’s being crushed by three more children. Daeun is quick to take them off of Yunho and shoves them inside the room where they have the first snack of the day.

More and more children keep coming, all of them blown away by Yunho’s presence. Well, not all of them.

As I proudly watch my boyfriend being engulfed in a hug for what seems like the thirtieth time, I hardly notice that a soft voice is calling my name. I feel a small hand trying to get my attention by tugging my sleeve, so I turn around and find my favorite girl in the entire world making grabby hands towards me.

“Auntie, I missed you!”

I pick her up, her tiny legs wrapping around my waist. “I missed you too, Haneulie! Oh, hi Hongjoong!” I greet her father, who’s shoving his daughter’s coat inside her bag.

“Hello, y/n! I see that your boyfriend’s already busy” he chuckles, watching Yunho take the two kids that were all over him inside the room for their snack.

“He’s going to pass out as soon as we reach home”

When Yunho comes back, he notices that his bandmate and leader is by my side, and I have his daughter-in-law wrapped around my body like a koala. He instantly makes his way towards the camera and takes it off of the tripod, so that he can show the special guests he had prepared for his video.    

“Yah, Kim Hongjoong! Say hi to Atiny who’s watching us!”

“Hey there, Atiny! How have you been?”

“And Haneulie is here as well!”

“Hi” she cutely waves her hand in front of the camera lens.

“She loves her auntie so much that we decided that it was a good idea for her to come to this daycare.” Hongjoong explains, caressing his daughter’s cheek. “Haneulie never wants to leave”

“She even cried when I was here some months ago because she didn’t want to leave my side” Yunho adds, making the child frown.

“I cried because I didn’t want to leave auntie, not you!” she pokes her tongue out of her mouth and I laugh at Yunho’s offended expression.

“Try to say that again, you little devil kid!”

“How are you doing here, little one? Need some help?” I approach Seoyeon, looking at her empty piece of pink cardboard.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Miss” she pouts, looking at me from her table.

“You don’t have to have a boyfriend for you to make a Valentine’s day card, sweetie” I quietly chuckle, bending down beside her. “It’s for somebody that you deeply love and care for. Whoever you think its special for you, it’s fine.”

“Can I give this to my mummy, then?”

“Of course you can, Yeonnie. Just make sure you make it as pretty as possible for her so you can surprise her!”

“Okay, thank you Miss!”

I keep going around the classroom, looking at the kids and their mess, trying to figure out if they need help using the scissors or if the sticky glue is too much for them to handle. After making sure that they are doing just fine, I make my way towards Yunho’s table. He’s quietly working on his own card, occasionally helping his craft mates, Minho, Yejoon, Jaehyun and Hyunwoo, and talking to the camera in front of them.

“Oh no, you can’t be here, Miss!” Yejoon quickly stands up from his chair, pushing me away from the table they’re working on.

“You can’t see Yunho-hyung’s card until Valentine’s Day!” Hyunwoo stands in front of the table, trying to hide Yunho’s work of art.

“You heard the kids, love” my boyfriend smiles innocently at me, and I sigh in contentment. He never ceases to surprise me.

“All right, I’ll work on mine then” I go to my desk and take out some materials so that I can get started on my card for Yunho as Jiyoung takes my place in supervising the children.

The rest of the day goes by without any problems. Right after the art class, the kids have their free time and go play around in the playground of one of the rooms, taking Yunho with them. Daeun and I stay behind cleaning the mess and arranging the cards over one table so that they can dry off.

Two hours later, the kids are already fed with lunch and ready for their nap. I help them with their blankets, calming down some of them when they start whining for their moms. Yunho is rocking back and forth the youngest of the kids, Juwon, who has been his personal koala ever since he played with him in the slides. I can already sense his tiredness and I don’t blame him, because he was never left alone since they arrived here.

Jiyoung quietly takes the camera from its tripod and takes Yunho’s job as she has been doing ever since Juwon clung to him. I finish wrapping up Haneul in her purple blanket, and after making sure that everyone is asleep, I make my way towards my boyfriend.

“Do you want me to have him, baby? You could use some rest” I mutter, caressing one of his arms.

“It’s okay, love. He’s drifting off” he softly replies, looking at the toddler’s puffy face. We stay chatting quietly for some more minutes, finally being able to lay Juwon down and wrap him up with his dinosaur patterned blanket. Yunho stands up and hugs me tight, pressing his chin on my head because his giant form allows him to do that. “Is this what it will be like for us with our own babies?”

My heart flutters upon hearing his soft words, and I wrap my arms around him, pressing my head against his chest. “I hope not” I quietly chuckle, releasing a tired sigh afterwards. “But they’ll take after you, so yeah, it will be like this.”

“Damn”

“I need minimum twenty hours of sleep”

I make my way out of the bathroom, drying off my hair with a towel. “Told you!”

“But it was so worth it, y/n” he mutters from our bed with his laptop over his lap as he goes over today’s footage. “Atiny will love this video. The kids are so cute” he chuckles.

“Yeah, they are cute because you have them once in a blue moon. I have them everyday”

He seems to be in his own little world, so I just let him be. In the meantime, I put on my puppy themed pajama, carefully choosing one of my favorite Yunho’s hoodies and sliding into it, happily smelling his sweet perfume engulfing me. I make my way towards our bed, slowing down my pace as I see Yunho’s eyes let out tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Will you marry me?”

His soft and beautiful brown eyes stare at me filled with what seems like a mixture of hope, happiness and nervousness. Those eyes that one day, just when I needed, appeared in front of me and changed my whole life.

I don’t move. I just stare at him in disbelief, because I was surely not expecting that from him. My own eyes are now letting out tears, happy tears.

“I don’t have a ring here but I’ll buy one tomorrow first thing in the morning. Just say yes, love” he stands up, shoving aside his laptop and slowly standing in front of me.

I let out a happy chuckle, nodding. He starts laughing as well, picking me up and taking my lips in his. My legs easily wrap around his waist, and my arms around his neck, making sure to never leave his lips. We slowly and lovingly kiss, pouring our hearts out.

“I love you so much” he mutters once we break apart.

“I love you too, baby. But I have to ask you, why so sudden?” I ask.

He puts me down and takes my hand, making me sit down besides him. Yunho takes his laptop and puts it over my legs, playing one of today’s videos.

“Just look” he murmurs, putting his arm over my shoulders and kissing my temple.

It’s me and him, quietly talking to one another. I have my arm around Yunho’s waist while he’s busy rocking Juwon to sleep. I smile at the video, feeling tears welling up in my eyes once more.

“We are meant to be together, love. We make such a beautiful and perfect team, so why not take things further? Not because our families and friends want us to, but because we feel that it’s time already for us to start our journey together as a marriage. We can think of kids later.” Yunho mutters, his eyes never leaving the screen. “This video is like a sneak peek of what our life as a family will be like and honestly, I want to start as soon as possible”

“Let’s do it then” I nod, looking at him with a wide smile “Let’s get married”

i’m so proud of this one! happy reading!

 ⇢ jinmindeulle

#ateez au #jung yunho #yunho au #jung yunho au #yunho x you #yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #yunho imagine #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #jeong yunho #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x you #park seonghwa #seonghwa x you #hongjoong au #seonghwa au #family au #kpop imagine #kang yeosang #yeosang x you #yeosang au #choi san #san x you #san au #song mingi #mingi x you #mingi au #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x you

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Four

FFN II AO3

Chapter Summary: An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

Chapter Four

April 2020

The squeal of the train's breaks sounded their approach to the platform as a prim voice announced their imminent arrival and warned commuters to mind the gap. Jacob Phelps adjusted a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, the opposite arm occupied by a pretty young woman with dyed blonde hair and striking green eyes. "Don't be nervous," she said, her tone so light it was almost teasing. "Daddy's going to love you."

Jacob let a small, hesitant smile quirk his lips. "I'm not nervous."

"You're such a bad liar," she laughed as the train pulled up to the platform and the doors opened.

"I am," Jacob lied, risking a glance at his mark. Emily Atwood, thirty-years-old and the only child of the aging CEO of a British conglomerate that he'd been hired to steal data from. It had taken nearly a month of groundwork, but only a couple of weeks once he'd actually made contact with her. She thought he was Jack Tallert, an accountant that had recently been transferred to his firm's London branch.

She was an easy enough mark. Trusting and head over heels for the man she thought he was. It would have been enough to almost make him feel guilty if he ever got invested enough to feel much at all on an op. He let the part he was playing take over and natural charisma and training did their equal parts to get him where he needed to go. He'd always been good at it, even before St Regis, but Bud had helped him hone a skillset that had put him at the top of his class. Thankfully a decade's worth of missing memories hadn't dampened that too much, even if it had left him with a desperate need to fill in his gaps of knowledge that anyone around him would know.

Emily tugged him forward from the train and they started up towards the street above. She chattered away about their dinner plans and if they should see a movie that weekend. Or a play. She'd prefer a play. They had a lovely cast for…

Jacob nodded at all the right moments, picking up on key words but otherwise focused on the plan as they stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. The client that had hired him needed a set of plans that were being tightly guarded by the company's security. No one under the fortieth floor even knew that the product was on the horizon, and no one under the fiftieth had access to the details mapped out to make it happen. Emily's father would have them on his computer, certainly, but that was risky. Daniel Atwood's personal assistant should have them too. She had been Jacob's original in for direct access, but it didn't take a lot of research to find out that he was nother type. She would be out to lunch - a very nice lunch with her girlfriend that Jacob has pulled a discrete favour to make happen - so no one would be there to watch her computer. His cell phone was already set to connect with her laptop from the office next to hers, so all he had to do was keep the conversation going while the tech did the heavy lifting. If he played his cards right he'd be on a flight Stateside in just a few hours.

"What do you think?"

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and Jacob blinked hard. "That's a…. good idea?" he tried.

Emily smiled sweetly at him and reached forward, adjusting the collar on his overcoat. "I promise it's going to be just fine. Don't believe everything you hear about him on the telly."

"I've got you with me. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit." She tipped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before letting her hand slide down into his and tugging him into the building after her.

                                                   -------

McCready had always had a strict radio silence rule. No contact until the op was finished. If you broke that rule, it better be mission critical or he'd burn you faster than you could start stuttering out your excuse.

The reasoning behind the rule had been proven time and again over the years, and it was one that Gina hadn't seen any benefit in changing during her four years that she had been leading St Regis now. Funny, even after she'd proven she wasn't someone to be trifled with, there was always the one idiot that thought he was different. That thought he could push her around. That's what brought her to moments like this one.

April in New York City could bring snow or sun, but that particular Thursday morning it was somewhere in between. She sat at a table in Union Square Park, tablet in hand. Jacob would have teased her for it, saying that if she were a spy worth her salt it would have been a newspaper. She couldn't fully blame him. It wasn't his fault he was a decade behind the times, not that he would have made the choice if he wasn't. He'd always been a fan of old spy tropes.

A scream for a doctor drew Gina's attention and she looked up to see what the crowd around her saw: a congressman home from DC's walk in the park with his wife turned dangerous as he clutched at his chest, hunched over to the point that he was melting towards the ground. She watched as people circled around, finally closing off her view. People were on their phones. Some were calling for help, others hoping for their five seconds of fame once they uploaded the video to whatever platform they thought would get the most views or get snatched up by one of the 24-hour news networks to play again and again until something more interesting came along. The congressman would never make it to the hospital, though. That's what he got for breaking protocol.

She put her tablet to sleep and leaned down to fit it back into her bag, ready to make her exit. When she straightened, though, she wasn't alone at her table. A woman had claimed the seat across from her, utterly unphased by the drama taking place a few yards away, and her icy blue stare was fixed on Gina.

The woman was thin, red hair fighting the grey that should have stolen the colour at this point in life, and well dressed. She tilted her head a little to the side, studying Gina carefully. "You don't look bothered."

"Neither do you," Gina answered, slipping easily into a New York accent.

A very small smile tilted the corners of the newcomer's lips, amused, but her gaze remained sharp. "Your accent's good."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. Let's not waste time."

Gina felt a nudge against her boot under the table and she risked a glance down to see that the woman had pushed a backpack towards her. "They don't like unattended bags here. Makes people nervous."

"I'd say you better check it out then."

She was playing a game, that much was obvious, but something in Gina could respect that. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on her, especially on high alert. This woman had been in the game, even if she wasn't currently. She knew what she would find in the bag even before reaching under the table for it. Her fingers ghosted along the stacked bills and she let her own lips quirk upward, her accent slipping back to her own. "Are you trying to propension me?"

"Absolutely. I want your best man for a job."

"I don't know you."

"You don't know most of your clients. That's why you vet people." The woman held a card between two fingers and Gina read the name Brigitte Tremblay in scrawled text. "Take a look - deep as you want - and give me a call."

"What's the job?"

"Protection. That's all I say until we have a contract in place. Do your due diligence and give me a call at the number on the other side of the card. I'll get you the qualifications I'm looking for so that you can choose your best operative."

Sirens sounded and Gina risked a look on instinct. When she turned back, Brigitte Tremblay was gone, her card and bag of money the only sign she'd ever been there at all.

                                                  -------

It was exhausting playing the boyfriend sometimes. Bud had loved putting him in those roles. He'd said Jacob was born for them. Gina was less interested, but this job had needed a skilled operative that could manipulate many moving parts and make sure that it all came together quickly. Two months was their limit. Jacob was managing it in less, even if he would be due a bonus for having to deal with the nonstop droll of suckups that followed Emily Atwood around hoping to get a good mentioned to her dear ol' daddy. She wasn't bad, but the people that surrounded her took every ounce of skill he had to smile at rather than snap their necks. With the way things were going, he'd be lucky if they made it up to her father's floor by next week.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair," Emily said, the grip she took on his hand pulling Jacob out of the stupor that Alistair's story had put him into, "but Jack and I were supposed to meet Daddy twenty minutes ago. Do say hello to Martha for me."

Jacob offered a small grimace that was supposed to be a smile as Emily pulled him away and towards the elevators. Once the doors were closed she sank back against the far wall. "They're exhausting."

"Least I'm not alone in that," he chuckled.

The lift wouldn't budge an inch until she swiped her badge, entered a code, and pressed her thumb against a reader to take them all the way to the top. Jacob saw the small signs of worry and reached out, his touch against her arm soothing. "Hey. Don't worry about them."

"It's hard not to. They're vultures. Everyone wants something from him. From us. It's hard to know what's real."

Jacob offered a reassuring smile and shoved that irritating tickle in the back of his mind away. It had been with him for the last couple of years. Since the op that stole his memories. He didn't know what it meant or why it happened, but it cropped up at the most inconvenient of times.

The elevator dinged and emptied them into the hallway. Emily led them around the corner and towards the CEOs suite at the end. The office next to it - Atwood's personal assistant's office - was already dark, meaning she was likely gone for lunch. Perfect. Jacob waited until Emily had fully passed the empty office before casually slipping his hands into his pockets, deft finger working to set his phone to send the signal. He caught the light from the computer waking up out of his peripheral, no one the wiser of it. The only thing he had to do now was keep the conversation going until the files had transferred and he could be Stateside again in under twenty-four hours.

Emily tapped on the frosted glass door as she pushed it open. "Sorry we're late. We...oh."

Jacob followed up behind her to see what had stopped her. Daniel Atwood stood tall and as imposing as he appeared in press releases, but he wasn't alone. With him was a smaller man. Persian. Asal Younes. Not that that would be the name he would have given Atwood. It looked like St Regis wasn't the only one after the intel.

He hadn't seen the man in years, but they had certainly left an impression on each other. Younes had gotten an upper hand on him and managed to leave Jacob with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs, but Jacob had returned the favour with a bullet lodged in the other man's chest and a second to the gut. As far as he knew they hadn't seen each other since, but grudges like theirs didn't dissipate with time. They festered.

"Sorry, love. This will only take a moment," Atwood said and turned back to his conversation.

"Alex Sharif," Emily said very quietly. "He handles Daddy's security."

Well that was interesting. Either Younes has found an in through security- a risky play - or he'd given a cover name to Atwood when he hired him to protect the intel, which didn't make sense. Either way, there was no question he'd been recognized, only how it played out.

He stood frozen in his place, mentally calculating every exit available to him, when he felt Emily's hand slip into his. "Let's wait outside."

She led him out and nodded as he made an excuse to slip off into the restroom to check the status bar on the phone. At ninety percent completion, this might just work. Whatever Gina was paying her new tech guru, it wasn't enough.

The door to the restroom opened and Younes' lips quirked up into a dangerous smile, gun already in hand. "I had heard a rumour that you'd gotten out of the game, either by choice or by force, but here you are. Hands on the counter."

"You've got it wrong."

Younes snorted and motioned until Jacob turned and placed his hands facedown on the counter as instructed. "Not even you can talk your way out of this. What's this?" He pulled the phone out of Jacob's pocket.

"Just downloading some tunes," he answered flippantly.

"Corporate espionage is a crime, my friend."

"So's trafficking, murder, and a half dozen other things you specialize in, so what's your point?" He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw his moment. Jacob kicked out, heel of his boot connecting with Younes' knee with a sickening crack, and he spun to go for the gun. He caught the other man's wrist in time to throw the shot from it wide and shoved Younes back hard against the wall. He dropped the gun as expected, but then slammed his head forward to send Jacob reeling back. Definitely not expected.

Jacob staggered, struggling to blink through black spots that were dancing in front of his vision, and pulled himself around in time to block the next blow. Arms up, a fist collided with his forearm rather than his face and he swung around with his elbow to clock Younes in the temple. The other man crumpled hard and Jacob grabbed the gun from the floor and stuffed it in the back band of his slacks.

A couple of curious people were already at the bathroom door as he stepped out, the commotion gaining their attention. Jacob motioned behind him. "Two guys just went at it in there. Someone should call security."

He pulled his phone out, making a beeline for the elevator and hoped beyond hope that he had what he needed. His lips quirked up at the corner at the sight of a completed status bar and he slammed the heel of his hand into the down button for the elevator. It didn't immediately open for him and he risked a look up to see some asshole had taken it down to the ground floor.

The bathroom door slammed open behind him and he turned, finding Younes stumbling his way out. There was no way that the elevator would make it in time and if they had it out in front of all of these people, someone was bound to snag a photo for identification. The stairwell it was.

Jacob took the two flights up to the roof rather than the fifty-some-odd flights down. At least there wouldn't be cameras up there.

He burst through the door to the roof, and dialed a number. "It's Phelps. I have the intel. Have the plane waiting at Luton Airport. I'll be coming in hot." He reached for the gun and pressed his back against the brick wall of the outer stairwell, eyes squeezed closed and he waited.

The door opened and he leapt into action. He swung around, but Younes was ready for him. He knocked the shot wide just as Jacob had done before, but Jacob used the momentum to swing him around. The two men slammed hard to the gravel roof, rolling and punching and fighting. "You really don't let things go, do you?" Jacob growled, from his place pinning the other man down.

Younes slammed his knee into Jacob's left side and threw him off. He landed hard enough that it took a half second longer than it should have for him to regain his bearings. Younes was on him when he did and he kicked up, catching him in the middle and vaulting him over.

He heard the startled yelp before his mind registered just how close to the edge they were. Jacob rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, feeling the damaged muscles in his left side pull painfully as he shuffled his way to the edge of the roof where Younes was hanging by his fingertips. He peered over and tilted his head curiously. "Just not your day, is it?"

"You son of a bitch."

Jacob snorted and turned. "Always sucks to see you, Younes," he called over his shoulder and heard another yelp as Younes finally lost his grip.

                                                  -------

He hadn't slept on the flight. Between verifying that the data made it to the intended recipient and coordinating with the cleaning crew to wipe all physical traces that he'd ever come into contact with the Atwoods, there hadn't been time. He'd just put his phone down to slouch deeply in the comfortable seat when he felt the rumble of the gears coming down and the pilot reminded him that they'd be landing soon. He must have missed the first announcement.

Both landing on the private airstrip and the drive back to the St Regis compound were a blur as exhaustion started to really set in. He needed a shower and maybe a very long nap. Food could wait.

Hot water poured over knotted muscles. Jacob leaned forward, palm pressed against the shower wall to keep him on his feet as watched as red-tinged water circled down to the drain, rinsing the remaining blood from his skin and hair that he hadn't been able to scrub off from his fight with Younes.

The shower door opened behind him and Jacob nearly lost his footing as he turned. Gina gave him a playful, dangerous smile as she barred the door. "Hello, handsome. How was London?"

"Successful. The data's been transferred and will be released as soon as the funds are."

"Just what I want to hear."

Her gaze traveled him up and down and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "You planning on joining me?" There was always the crash at the end of an op. It had never been something he'd dealt with particularly well, but the last couple years had proven even more difficult. He woke up at all hours with whatever he was dreaming about - or remembering- just out of reach and the strangest sensation that something wasn't quite right. The job usually helped distract him. Sex wasn't bad either.

Gina frowned. "As much as it pains me to say, you don't have time."

"I just got back from a two month job. I think I've got time," he countered, but her look said it all. Okay. That was a quicker turnaround than normal. "Guess I don't, huh?"

"Everything we have for you is in the file on your bed. Your meeting with Brigitte Tremblay in the City at eight. I'd wear more than that."

"What's the job?"

"Don't know. She said she'd only tell our best."

Gina turned to leave and Jacob pulled in a breath. He was going to need a cup of coffee.

                                                  -------

Jacob had always liked New York City. Violent homes as a child had taught him to read situations to survive, but as a teenager on the streets he'd sharpened those skills. New York had been a training ground in watching a wide range of people and mimicking every inch of their visible personalities. By the time Bud had picked him up by fourteen he was well on his way to fitting comfortably into any other skin but his own. Now, years later, he'd managed to turn it into a lucrative career.

The file Gina had given him was thin with only the name of the client - Brigitte Tremblay - along with the brief background run on her and her list of requirements. She had deep enough pockets to dictate terms, from the sound of it.

Brigitte Tremblay sat alone at a table just outside of a bakery, red hair peeking out from under a hat and over the scarf around her neck. She was a striking woman in her late 50's, her sharp blue gaze discreetly watching every person that passed by. She was good. A professional of some form or fashion, which left Jacob curious why she'd decided to hire out. There was only one way to find out.

"Ms Tremblay," he greeted as he circled around, but nothing about her reaction signaled that he had startled her. Just the opposite, her thin lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as if she'd won a bet Jacob wasn't privy to.

"Brigitte, please," she answered and motioned to the chair across from her. The file Gina had given him indicated that she did business in Canada, but there were hints of other locations in her accent. "You must be the top operative I was promised."

"From the little information you were willing to provide, yeah," he answered as he took the seat.

Her smile didn't fade as she studied him. Those piercing blue eyes lingered on him long enough that even Jacob felt the impulse to squirm under the observation. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"The best, like I told your boss." She leaned down and pulled a file from her oversized purse at her feet. It was thicker than hers, but she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead she held it up as if it were a prize to be earned. "I expect full confidentiality in this operation. Once you take the job you will speak to no one about me, about what's in this file, or anything connected to it. Not even your boss, do you understand me?"

"I got it."

She held his gaze. "Do you? I don't accept failure."

Jacob held that intense gaze without budging. "There's a reason my boss sent me rather than any number of operatives. I get the job done. No matter what. Your secrets are part of that job."

There was a beat of silence between them as Brigitte seemed to consider what he'd said. There was a shift, so small that Jacob almost missed it, before she said, "I'm glad we understand each other," and handed over the file.

Jacob opened it to find a photo of a young woman staring up at him. "So what do you need from Elizabeth Keen?" he asked, the name striking an almost-memory as it left his tongue. A hospital bed, everything around him blurred, and a denial. He didn't know any Keens.

"Are you alright?"

Jacob blinked hard, finding Brigitte staring at him. He mentally shook it off. "Sorry. Jet lagged. You were saying?"

"I was saying I want her protected."

"Protected? Why? From who?" He flipped through the notes. "She's a fed."

"Yes she is."

"So what's the connection?"

"She has something of mine. Until I'm ready to retrieve it, I need her out of harm's way. You'll find a number of potential threats I've already uncovered. My guess is there are more."

Jacob flipped through the dossier. The files contained notes about a task force she was a part of, outstanding cases that might pose a threat, and one name that caught his eye. He looked up at his new employer. "Her CI…"

"I'd suggest you stay off his radar. No one should see you. You'll be her shadow. You'll report any new or evolving threats to me unless they put her in immediate danger. I've rented an apartment for you to work out of under the name Thomas Henderson."

"I develop my own covers."

"Not this time." She tilted her head a little. "You do look like a Tom," she mused and stood. "The details for your cover are in the back of that file and this-" she reached for her bag, pulling a burner phone from it - "is for you to contact me. Remember, Tom, she's not to see you."

"That won't be a problem."

"It better not be. Good luck."

Jacob watched as she walked away, a strange and uneasy feeling settling over him as he turned his attention back to the file in hand, Special Agent Elizabeth Keen staring up at him.

                                                  -------

TBC

Notes: Bonus points to anyone that recognizes the name Younes from canon. Hint: Tom mentions the name a whopping one time with another name as someone that might be after him. If you guess you will earn the author's eternal entertainment and virtual cookies.

Also, for those that have been worried about Gina being an issue... please know this is short-lived and only because Gina's taking advantage of the situation. Deep breath, my friends. The Keens will actually cross paths quicker in this story than the last Tom Lives! AU that I wrote.

Next Time: Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.

#the blacklist #blacklist fanfiction #Tom Keen #Gina Zanetakos

[dragonclaw29]

Top Ten Anime

Its that time of year again. The time of year I post my anime review list for my personal picks for the best anime of all time. You can disagree with me if you want, you’ll be wrong, but you can. As per usual I will give a brief synopsis of each anime when I get to them in the list. Prepare to see many of the ones that were on last year but there have been a few new additions. Now without further adieu let us begin. 

Number 10 Azumanga Daioh

It's cute it’s funny it’s Azumanga Daioh. Follow the tale of a group of high school girls who may be missing a few screws as they adventure through their daily lives. This show is one of comedy and laughs. It sticks close to the core of what makes it fun and doesn’t through you for a curve. By far my favorite comedy Anime of all time. If you really enjoy it check out the manga as well it is a blast. Not much to say about this one so moving right along.

Number 9 Black Lagoon

Black Lagoon is a staple of the three B’s of anime those being Boobs, Bullets, and Businessman. What happens when a young salary worker is forced into a mercenary band of Americans? Well, you get Black Lagoon. An action anime through and through. Every episode is tackling some new problem. Some of these problems are entertaining like neo-nazis on a boat but others will tug at your heartstrings. One of the few anime that can keep a light-hearted tone then switch to a different genre within seconds and make it work. I would recommend this to anyone who wants to get into anime. 

Number 8 Death Parade

Everybody put your hands up! God dang does this opening rock. I mean its completely misleading but the song is such a jammer that it doesn’t matter. Ever wonder what happens when you die, do you rise to heaven or be banished to Hell? Well, the characters in Death Parade will try to help answer that problem. By playing the games found in their bar people will expose their darkest secrets and I do mean darkest.  Not for the faint of heart but worth a watch. If you want to see a heartwarming touching show that also has some heavy philosophical concepts Death parade is right for you. Has one of the best scenes in all of anime near the end. I will amendment I was balling like a baby during parts of this show. 

Number 7 Trigun

Trigun the space western that tells the tale of the most wanted man who ever existed. What did the man do to become so wanted, especially when all the guy seems to do is tumble his way through life? Well, I’m not telling you but its fun figuring it out. A great show with some stand-up comedy. Like Black-Lagoon the tone of each episode can vary greatly but its never not enjoyable. This is a show where the plot sneaks up on you and by the time your in the thick of it you’ll be eating everything up. One of the only anime to have a pair of insurance girls as main characters so that's a plus. If you liked Cowboy Bebop you love Trigun. 

Number 6 Future Diary

Future Diary is the show that really got me into anime. I remember watching this for the first time and staying up until four in the morning to binge it even though I said I was only going to watch two episodes. This show put me through the wringer and I loved every second of it. Future Diary has great character creation and has a way to make you stop and look at how people can break. Beautiful animation and great fight scenes future diary also is the origin of the modern Yandere. This show will always have a special place in my heart. 

Number 5 Last Exile 

This show is so good and has such wonderful world building I don’t know where to start. The basic premise is steampunk world but it is much much more than that. Last Exile creates a massive narrative that leaves you sitting on the edge of your seat. The budget for this show was crap so they made up for it by telling an awesome story. So much happens in this show it almost feels like three shows despite only being a twenty-six episode series. The characters are dynamic and fell real. The situations they find themselves in are interesting and everything comes together in the end in one massive finally. 

Number 4 Berserk (Original 1990′s version and theatrical releases)

I’m going, to be honest with you these shows exist to get you into the manga. Also, Mirua finish the god damn manga already its been thirty years. Anywho the berserk anime before 2017 are all lovely. My recommendation is to watch the one that came out in 97 first then watch the three movies that cover the same time period. The anime goes into more depth into the story while the movies give berserk the awesome animation it deserves. The story is dark and bleak sometimes oppressively so but the plot and characters will have you blitzing through every moment. Berserk is good enough to be taught in a writing class for its nature, and I to this day wait patiently for each manga chapter to come out. All I can say is push through the darkness struggler. 

Number 3 Serial Experiments Lain

Award for best pajamas in an Anime goes to this show as well as the reward for making one of the most confusing convoluted shows to watch. Every scene in this show means something. The narrative is one that hits the ground at 90mph and doesn’t stop. Through every twist and turn, more questions are raised and the answers never seem to come. In order to truly enjoy Lain one will have to watch the show multiple times and even then you may be missing large aspects of the show. People have hundreds of theories with each theory seeming reasonable or sound. My recommendation watch this show with an open mind and theorize as you go. Don’t go online looking for answers you won’t find ones that suite your ideas. When you finish then you can look around but truth be told the theory you come up with might be as factual as any of the other ones. 

Number 2 Madoka Magica

What does it mean to love someone? Does it mean doing whatever it takes to save them no matter what the cost is? Does love come from self-sacrifice or is it something greater still? Madoka Magica will have you pondering this and more as you go through the episodes. This show has the best art in an anime I have ever seen. Each character has their own unique ark that plays into the central plot line. Each villain has their own unique style that shows up when the girls are facing them. Even typing about this show is making me gush about how good it is. I strongly recommend this to everyone and anyone. This is an anime where I can honestly not think of a single flaw in it. 

Number 1 Tie Evangelion & Haibane Renmei 

Before you get mad at me, yes I know I’m cheating but I honestly can’t rank either of these below the number 1 spot. Both of these shows have changed the way I look at the world. Evangelion made me look at myself in an entirely new way and Haibane makes me cry justing talking about it. I honestly love both of these shows even though each has a budget of two dollars. Evangelion tells the tale of a group of children who are tasked with defending humanity. Each child will be tested in that task with. Haibane tells the tale of a girl finding her place in the world and learning to help others. Both shows are brilliant pieces that I will never forget. I am being vague about both of them on purpose in order not to spoil anything but definitely give both of these a watch some time. Also, a tip when you go to watch Evangelion watch it in this order ep1-24 then End of Eva ep25-26 then the rebuilds. 

Well, that's it another year completed another list uploaded. If anyone has questions feel free to message me and I am more than happy to talk. Lets hope for a great 2019!

#evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #End of EVA #haibane renmei #haibane #berserk #guts berserk #best anime #best #review #black lagoon #Trigun #Death Parade #death billiards #puella magi madoka magica #madoka kamane #lain #serial experiments lain #last exile #future diary #azumanga daioh #azumanga

[tlirswriting]

Past Mistakes, part 4

Don't expect my upload schedule to stay like this I have no fucking clue how I've posted decently sized pieces of writing three days in a row

Read part 1 here: https://bookfroggity.tumblr.com/post/187152824147/past-mistakes

///

3:27 A.M.

Five went back to the house. He followed his suspect long enough; he had his name, home address, and he took note of the licence plates on any vehicles that might be of interest.

The day wasn't completely wasted, and now he could rest, briefly though it would be.

Five's hand hovered over the door handle. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He took a breath and opened the door.

The house was trashed; the most obvious of it being the chandelier that crashed into the floor, cracking the surrounding tiles.

"Oh, no," He mumbled, taking a few steps inside and getting a better look at the wreckage.

Bullet holes. Familiar bullet holes, in fact, and quite a few of them. Nine-millimeters, haven't been manufactured since 1963, the kind temporal assassins use.

Five's heart sank.

"Guess I should've known they'd get caught in the cross-fire eventually, huh, Delores?"

You have to stay away from here.

"Yeah."

The more your tracks lead to your family, the more danger they're in.

"Obviously."

You don't need them, anyway.

"I can do this on my own. I can do this more easily on my own, actually. They won't be in my way, I won't get them shot, it's a win-win."

Exactly.

Five left without saying a word to anyone who may or may not have been there.

...

Five's suspect was getting in his car early the next morning.

Five appeared in the passenger seat, which was, understandably, a surprise.

"Oh, Jesus!" He said, finding himself with a knife under his chin.

"One chance," Five hissed. "One chance is all you've got to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab."

"I-- I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients, I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market--"

"Including eyeballs?"

"Yeah, they're my biggest seller."

Five sighed sharply through his nose, murder in his eyes.

"I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I-- I've got a list, a waiting list, probably twenty buyers."

"So the serial number I told you..."

"Uh, could've already been bought, yes, off-- off the books."

"I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!"

"I don't have it. I mean, not on me; the only copy's in my safe at the lab."

"Well. Start the car, then, because we're going on a field trip."

"Okay."

"Now."

"Okay."

...

Meritech was on fire.

Goddamn it all, Five thought, running towards it, though he wasn't sure what exactly his plan was at that point.

The fire roared through the doors, blasting broken glass and Five through the air, landing a good eight feet back.

He sat up and watched it burn, listening to the sirens approaching. Things were starting to look a little too familiar.

"No," Five moaned. "No, no, please, this was my only lead, what am I supposed to..."

The sirens were getting close. Five didn't want to have to deal with the fire department or, worse, the police.

He decided to go do what he always did in situations like these.

...

"You know, Delores, I really thought I could save the world," Five lamented before taking another swig of his drink. "I thought, you know, I thought 'oh yeah sure I can singlehandedly thwart armageddon, no big deal, if anyone can it's me,' but my one idea about how just got incinerated, so, fuck me, I guess."

The floor of a public library might not have been the most ideal place for a breakdown, but it was his best option, and there weren't too many people around the corner he chose to tuck himself away in.

There's still time.

"No, there's not." Five let out a sob that he would've found to be an embarrassingly pathetic show of emotion had he been sober. "There's not enough time to do anything anymore, I wasted it all chasing after that stupid eyeball and now everything's gonna go down in flames because of me."

Don't say that.

"It's true, though, everyone on earth will die and it'll be my fault. I just, I fucking, I've killed everybody. I don't even have an escape plan, Del, how did... Why am I so stupid?"

You're not stupid, Five.

"Yes I am! I'm stupid, and a murderer, and I'm gonna burn to death, and then I'm gonna burn in the pits of the underworld as punishment for my stupid murder crimes."

You haven't failed yet, you can still fix it if you try really hard. Maybe you should start praying. You never were particularly religious, but at this point it's about all you have left. But, listen, I know you better than anyone and I know you don't give up this easily. Tomorrow, you're gonna get up and-- I appreciate the chance to talk for longer than usual but you should probably stop chugging that.

Five came up for breath, his throat burning. "Yeah, you're right. You're always right. It's just... It's so hard, I've been planning this for thirty... Forty...? Fucking... A lot of years, okay? And it all literally went down in flames, and everything else is about to follow."

You can figure something out.

"I'm so scared."

I know.

"I don't want to go back there, Delores, I don't want to live like that, I don't want people to die."

I know.

"I love you."

I know.

"Have I said that since I got here? I don't remember."

No, but you don't really hide it, either.

"Yeah, I guess I don't."

...

"Hey, get up."

Five's eyes flickered open to find a blurry, slightly spinning Diego looking down at him, nudging his side with his boot.

"Whuh...?"

"You can't just stay there, Five, this is a public library and as far as everyone else here is concerned you're some weird lost kid drinking way below the legal age."

"Fuck off, I'm having a moment here."

Luther snickered.

"Come on," Diego said, giving Five a more forceful nudge.

"Alright, alright." Five staggered to his feet, and became acutely aware of his sense of balance, or lack thereof. "Oh, sweet Jesus," He groaned, putting a hand on the side of his head as if it would help anything as he stumbled around, eventually finding himself leaning his back against Luther.

Diego sighed. "We don't have time for this. Luther, can you just carry him?"

Five opened his mouth to protest, but was already being hoisted into the air, so he opted for a wordless yell.

Diego was apologizing to someone for the way his "nephew" was acting while he gathered up the notes Five had set down, but what caught Five's attention was that he picked up Delores, and by the neck no less.

"Hey, you can't-- you don't just grab her like-- no!"

"It's a mannequin, Five."

"That's my wife, you asshole!"

Luther tightened his grip on his brother as he started struggling against him, kicking and scratching. "Diego, just-- ow-- Diego don't try to argue with him, he's not gonna cooperate."

"Fine, whatever." Diego tossed Delores to Five, and he clung to her like a life preserver.

"The amount of disrespect we put up with..." Five mumbled, stroking the back of her head.

"Happy?" Diego asked.

"Mmph..."

"Close enough."

...

"Well, we can't go back to the house, it's not secure. Those people could come back at any moment," Luther said.

"My place is closer, no one will look for him there," Diego offered.

Five felt like he was made of plasma; whether this was normal or if alcohol made his powers more unstable wasn't of much concern to him as waves sloshed through his guts.

"If you vomit on me," Luther threatened, finding it more effective to leave these things unfinished.

"Hey, you know what's funny?" Five started, rubbing Delores' back. "I'm going through puberty... Twice. Heh. And I... I drank that whole bottle, didn't I?"

Neither of his brothers seemed as amused by either of those.

"That's what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye," Five continued. "Poof, it's gone... What are you guys talking about?"

"Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night," Luther huffed.

"They came looking for you," Diego added. "So I need you to focus. What do they want?"

"Hazel and Cha-Cha..."

"Who?"

"You know, I hate codenames," Luther interjected, not helping Five focus.

"Ah, the best of the best," Five half-explained. "Except for me, of course."

"The best of what?" Diego prodded impatiently.

Boy, he sure doesn't know a lot, Five thought, and with that he lost his train of thought. "You know, Delores always said she hated when I drink. She said it made me surly--"

"Hey!" Diego snapped, turning to face him.

"Hm? Yeah?"

"I need you to focus. What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?"

Five stared at him for a moment, part of him trying to figure out how to explain and the other part trying to decide if he should.

"We just want to protect you," Diego added.

" 'Protect me'... I don't need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I've killed?"

"No."

"I'm the Four fuckin' Horsemen... And the apocalypse is coming." With that, Five threw up over Luther's shoulder, and they all decided to stop asking questions for the night.

///

Part 5: https://bookfroggity.tumblr.com/post/187362397627/past-mistakes-part-5

#my writing #fanfiction #tua #the umbrella academy #past mistakes #long post

[let-it-raines]

Prompt: Modern AU where Detective David finds out that the girl his partner, previously an irremediable single, has been seeing for some time (and mooning over like a fool) is his sister, by accidentally walking in on them.

Okay, okay, okay. This is apparently a SUPER popular prompt. I’ve got four different versions of it sitting in my inbox, so when this one came in this morning, I figured I’d just upload the beginnings of the one I’d started on. The first one of these was actually my first prompt when this whole thing started, but it gives away some spoilers, so I’m going to use this one to start this off. And just so you guys know, yes, I’ll add MORE PARTS. If so many people want to see this, who am I to keep them away from it?

If he has to work one more night shift this month he thinks he might go delusional from sleep deprivation. That’s not normal, and it’s definitely not healthy for a detective. If he’s tired, he can’t do his job correctly. And if can’t do his job correctly, people get hurt, and that’s not okay. He became a cop (and then now a detective) to protect people, and while he realizes not everyone is like that, he is. He wants to be someone who people can rely on. Someone who Liam could have relied on when he was still alive. Someone who would make Liam proud.

He knows that his brother had his faults, that he could be a pompous arsehole who thought he knew best when he didn’t, but he was still the man who raised him, still his hero, still the man who he wants to make proud. So he strives for that every damn day, even on the days where he doesn’t feel like it. Maybe especially on the days that he doesn’t feel like it. His world was dark for years after his brother’s death, like a hole had been dug that could never be filled, and it was just now starting to brighten up again, the sun shining a little brighter and the skies seeming to be a little less gray. He can’t pinpoint why exactly that is, or maybe he can. He’s not entirely sure, but if there’s anything he’s learned, it’s that you can’t question why things happen or you might drive yourself mad looking for the answers for the rest of your life.

Walking out of the precinct into the cold winter air swirling under the inky black sky wakes him from his musings, his leather jacket not doing nearly enough to keep him warm while he walks the few blocks to his apartment, the air nipping at the tips of his ears and turning them red the longer he stays outside. It’s nearing four in the morning now, and while most of the city is likely asleep, getting those last few precious hours, he’s just trying to get home so he can get to sleep for the first time since…well, since two days ago. He’d picked up a double the day before for the overtime pay only to get transferred to the night shift today, a combination which he’d never like to relive. The pay was most definitely not worth it. It helps, but it’s not worth it.

Even as his eyelids droop and his legs begin to shake from weariness, he powers through until he’s unlocking the gate to his building and walking up several flights of stairs to his apartment. It’s not much, but it’s his. It’s his, and he’s got separate rooms for his kitchen and living room, the both of them with matching furniture, and that had never happened before in his thirty-two years of living until he signed the lease on this place. There are even built-in bookshelves for all of his novels and collections of miscellaneous treasures (someone else might call it junk, but he calls them treasures). He loves this damn place, and he can think of very little that’d make him leave it.

The fact that he can walk to work is most definitely a bonus because the only vehicle he has is his cruiser, having not gotten upgraded to an undercover car yet, and that’s not exactly something he wants to drive around when he’s simply going to buy groceries. He may be proud of what he does, but he knows that a lot of people aren’t. He has to be on the lookout the entire time when in uniform. Though, he doesn’t wear a uniform much lately, getting to wear his own clothes, but he wore that damned blue thing for years. It’s difficult to forget that he doesn’t wear it anymore.

Shucking off his sweater and jeans, his jacket long discarded on the coat rack by the front door, and crawling into bed after quickly brushing his teeth, he gets under the covers and tangles his hairy legs with the warm body sleeping, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other goes under her pillow as he kisses her bare shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” she whispers, and he should have known she’d wake up with all of his jostling around. “How was work?”

He hums, breathing in her scent. He hasn’t seen her in days, and he likely shouldn’t be seeing her now. She should be asleep. “You should go to sleep, love. It’s still early.”

“Couldn’t sleep until you got home.”

“I know you were asleep when I got in.”

“That’s not the…not th – the point.”

He chuckles against her neck before pressing another kiss against her shoulder. She’s not going to remember any of this in the morning, more yawns emerging from her mouth than words. “G’night, love.”

When he wakes later, the pounding of his head and the aching of his body telling him that it hasn’t been long since he fell asleep, it’s to the sound of Emma’s awful ring tone blaring in his ear, the high-pitched shrills of the Spice Girls making him know that it’s David calling her (there’s a story there, and he’s never quite been sure what it is). Groaning, he shakes Emma awake so that she can answer and make it stop. It’s too early for him to tell anyone what he wants, what he really, really wants.

Actually, he really wants the song to stop.

“Ow, shit, Killian. What was that for?”

“Answer your phone, Swan. It could be important.”

She rolls her eyes, and how is she the one who is cranky this morning? She got sleep last night. “It’s just David.”

“Your brother is important.”

“You only think that because he’s your friend.”

“And my partner most days. He keeps me alive. Answer the phone, darling.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, rolling over in bed to grab the phone before she looks at him and pokes him in the stomach. “Be quiet.”

He does a mock bow from his lounged position in the bed, and she rolls her eyes again, the feisty lass. “If the lady, insists.”

Emma keeps her phone volume so loud that he can hear David’s hasty greeting of “Hello.”

“David, what the hell are you doing calling me at eight in the morning on a Saturday?”

“I’m at your apartment, and you won’t answer the door.”

Oh shit. What the hell is he doing at her apartment? Killian immediately sits up, his head pounding at the movement, before he scoots closer so he can hear more of this conversation.

“Why are you at my apartment?”

“Why aren’t you answering the door?”

“I asked you first.”

He smiles at their bickering before grabbing Emma and pulling her into his lap, a quiet squeal escaping her lips, and he already knows that he’s going to pay for that later. He doesn’t really bloody care, though, nestling her over his thighs and wrapping his arms around her stomach before resting his head on her free shoulder as she talks to David.

“Fine. I wanted to see if you wanted to get breakfast.”

“And you couldn’t have called first?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

Emma sighs, and all Killian can think is that no one should ever attempt to surprise Emma Swan before noon. David should really know that. He’s known her for longer than anyone. “You should have called.”

“Just answer the door, Emma.”

“You’ve got to lie, love,” he whispers in her other ear, and he smirks at the obvious shiver that runs through her body when he rubs his chin against her neck, his facial hair leaving prickles against her skin.

“I, uh, I can’t,” she answers, and there’s a lass. Though, that’s technically the truth.

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m not at home.”

“If you’re not at home, where are you?”

“Oh, uh, I’m well…I’m at a guy’s apartment.”

Okay, but where the hell is she going with this? She should have just said she was at the gym. They both know that David won’t show up at her gym.

“You had a one-night stand, and you’re still there? In the morning? Are you okay?”

“What makes you think it’s a one-night stand?”

“C’mon, Ems. It’s you. You’re the one always saying you don’t do more than one night.”

Emma sighs, and he starts rubbing her stomach, nuzzling her shoulder with the hairs of his chin again before pressing several quiet kisses there. If there’s anything she hates, it’s her brother going on and on about her relationships. He can be a judgmental prick, and it riles Emma up like nothing else. It riles Killian up, too. He’s known David long enough to know all of his faults, but he’s not in love with the man so things aren’t always sugarcoated between the two of them. Hell, he’s in love with Emma, and things aren’t sugarcoated between the two of them either. But he doesn’t think she’s a judgmental prick, so that likely bodes well for the two of them.

“That’s still kind of judgmental, David. You know that? I could be dating someone.”

“Are you?”

“No,” she lies, and she squeezes her hand over his to reassure him.

“So no breakfast?”

“No breakfast. I’ll call you later, okay?”

When Emma hangs up the phone she removes herself from his arms and flops down onto the bed, her face hitting the pillow so hard that if this were years ago, feathers would pop out of it and gently fall to the ground. She mumbles something into the pillow, but he doesn’t know what. It all simply sounds like nonsense to him, but he’s sure that it’s frustrations over her brother. They’re close, but they have their own set of issues, which is preciously why the two of them have been dating for so long with no one knowing. Of course, there are those pesky little issues about he and David as well. They probably should have fessed up months ago, but they’ve gotten comfortable in it just being them without outside prying eyes.

Emma once said it was like she was living in a fishbowl or a television screen in her last few relationships. Everyone was far too nosy and involved, making remarks and judgments and asking for details she wasn’t comfortable sharing. David’s incredibly protective of her, and he knows that it’s for good reason. But damn. There’s a difference between being protective and being overbearing. Protective is caring that someone you love is happy and doesn’t get hurt. Overbearing is giving those idiotic “if you hurt her, I’ll kill you” speeches. Yeah, there’s a bit of novelty behind them, but it’s basically the verbal equivalent of someone sitting on a front porch with a shotgun and threatening to shoot their daughter’s date if he brings her home one minute past ten at night. What the hell? He’s pretty sure he can arrest someone for that.

Apparently, David took it too far in her last relationship, not only giving the speech once, but doing it nearly every damn time he saw the guy, August, as well as going so far as to do a background search on the guy at work. Emma had been so pissed that she’d shared her feelings about it with August. And why shouldn’t she? He was her boyfriend. She should have been able to share her feelings with her boyfriend, but August had said he couldn’t deal with all of the pressure from her family, going so far as to say that David isn’t even her real brother. Killian knows that if August hadn’t already broken up with her, she would have broken up with him then, regardless of her feelings about her brother at the moment.

Possibly broken his nose, too.

Liam was once the overprotective arsehole of a brother, and Killian would give anything to have him back. He would even take back his pompous ways. He’d hate them as much as he once did and as much as Emma hates David’s, but he’d give anything to have him back. He’d probably just want him to realize that he’s an adult man who can make his own choices.

A lot of people seem to need to realize that.

He knows that David’s protective of Emma because of Neal. He gets it. He wants to be the same way with her after knowing what the bastard did, but to David, if David knew that they were together, he’d go from seeing Killian as a friend and a coworker to someone who has the ability to hurt his sister. It’s idiotic, but some people just don’t change their ways or see reason when it comes to the people they love.

He met David Nolan on his first day after the police academy, the man a year older with three year’s more work experience, and he’d reluctantly began a friendship with him. If they were going to be working together, they might as well get along. David just didn’t seem to be his typical type of friend. He was too clean cut, clean shaven. The type of man who wears beige sweaters and slacks because he likes them and likes the easy routine of it. There’s not anything wrong with it, but it’s like the man doesn’t have any broken edges. Everything was in a straight line, and Killian just didn’t work that way.

He was too rough around the edges, too dark and broken from the loss of every member of his family to different tragedies (in the case of his father maybe a blessing), and he didn’t see all of the hope that David saw in the world. He didn’t know how the man could with all of the evil and unfortunate situations that they see every day from their job, and he really didn’t understand after finding out David had grown up in foster care. He had been abandoned, so much like Killian, and yet he still saw good so easily.

But then Killian met David’s wife, and it suddenly all made sense. Mary Margaret was someone who could probably create rainbows in the middle of the night without a lick of rain and turn even the most prickly of people into teddy bears. So a Kindergarten teacher and a cop had found each other, and if that wasn’t the most Hallmark thing he’d ever seen he doesn’t know what is.

Eventually the side of him that judged the Nolans began to wane, and they became his friends. His best friends. Over Robin and Will and everyone else.

But then he met Emma Swan, and everything he knew was flipped on its head.

Funnily enough, he didn’t meet her through David. He met her at the gym, the one David doesn’t go to because all they do there is practice boxing, and he doesn’t see the point of it. He’d been paired as her sparring partner for the day when both of their usual partners had to miss for their own reasons. Thank God for Robin’s dentist appointment and Ruby’s date.

“You can hit me harder than that. It’s just through the gloves, and I’m not going to break if you put a little force into it, Jones.”

“Who says I’m holding back?

She quirks her eyebrows, and he’s not at all distracted by the fact that she’s in nothing but a sports bra and leggings, the sweat covering her chest making him think of other ways he could cause her to sweat. It’s bloody distracting, and while he knows it’s the reason he’s holding back, Swan (she hadn’t told him her first name, and it’s driving him mad) most likely thinks he’s holding back because she’s a lass.

He bloody well can’t tell her the truth, but the lie doesn’t exactly work in his favor either. He’s either thinking about having her writhe underneath him while he pumps himself into her or he’s a sexist prick who won’t punch a woman during training. So he’s pretty much screwed with this lass. But, you know, not in a good way.

“If this is your full strength, you need to talk to the owner and get a refund on your membership because you’ve got to be better than this, Jones.”

“Is that a challenge, love?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” he smirks, throwing his arm with a bit more force until it smacks against her glove, “I do love a challenge.”

The rest of their practice goes extraordinarily well, even when Emma “slips up” and punches him in the face, and as they sit on a bench behind all of the punching bags drinking water, the both of them drenched in sweat, they finally introduce themselves.

“Killian. My first name is Killian Jones. I feel like anyone who punches me in the face should at least know my full name.”

She laughs before taking another sip of water, and he most definitely does not watch as the water travels down her throat, matching the beads of sweat still dripping from her body.

“Emma Swan. I feel like anyone who I’ve punched in the face should at least know my full name. Though, that’s not always the case with me.”

Nothing further happens between the two of them that day, but when he gets to work later that afternoon, he’s apparently got a smile plastered onto his face.

“You get laid, Jones?” David teases almost as soon he settles down at his desk, booting the computer up, and he must look like some kind of flushed maniac. He’s met the woman once, but he’s fascinated by her.

“None of your business, Nolan.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t come waltzing in here still covered in a bit of sweat and with your cheeks blushing like a kid with his first crush.”

Later as he and David go out to patrol, David nudges his shoulder. “So you like this girl of yours?”

“She’s, uh, she’s not mine, but I think I do.”

He sees her at the gym on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and he asks her out to lunch (dinner seemed to be a bit too much for some reason), three weeks after they’d practiced together. She says yes, mostly with the urging of her friend Ruby, and he walks out of the gym with a pep in his step that no man who just worked out for over an hour should have. It’s unnatural, but a woman can do that to a man.

At least, Emma can do that to him.

She meets him at a little Italian Bistro, and while he’s only ever seen her covered in a heavy sheen of sweat in skin tight spandex (thank you whoever created that), he’s just as attracted to her when she shows up in jeans and a white blouse that shows her bare shoulders, freckles sprinkled across them, and little brown boots with heels that make them nearly the same height. Her hair is down and flowing instead of being pulled into a tight ponytail, and he hasn’t been this attracted to a woman since Milah, which is more likely a bad thing than a good thing. He simply doesn’t care right now.

“Good afternoon, love. It’s nice to see you outside of the gym. You look much kinder.”

He goes in to press his lips against her cheek, the skin soft under the touch of his lips, and she smells like vanilla when she doesn’t smell like sweat. When he pulls back from her, a slight blush is rising in her cheeks, and something settles into his stomach.

“I can still punch you outside of the gym, Jones.”

He winks. “I look forward to it.”

She’s funny. Like, seriously funny, and he doesn’t just laugh at her jokes or at her stories because he likes her. He laughs because he finds her stories amusing. He reads people as a part of his job, and to him, she’s an open book. She’s obviously holding a lot back, but it’s a first date. She’s not supposed to share all of her dirty little secrets. He sure as hell isn’t going to share all of his.

She’s a bail bondsperson, and no part of him is surprised. She’s a tough lass, and anyone being brought in by her is in a load of trouble.

“So what do you do?” she questions, taking a bite of her pasta.

“I’m a cop,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his beer and smiling when he puts it back down on the table. “I cover the west district.”

Her demeanor changes when he says that, and he’s got no idea what he said wrong. But he obviously said something wrong.

“Do you, uh, do you know David Nolan?”

“Aye, he’s my partner.”

Her eyes go wide and her gulp is so obvious that he can practically feel it. He’s got no bloody clue what’s going on, but all he knows is this thing between them that’s barely started is already over.

“I’m sorry,” she says as she stands from her chair, wiping her hands on her jeans. “I can’t do this. It’s not you, I swear. And that’s not some excuse. This is one hundred percent me, and this has been, um, a one-time thing. Thanks for lunch, but please don’t call me again. I’m sorry.”

And then she’s practically sprinting out of the restaurant, and he has no idea what the hell has just happened.

The waitress gives him a pitying look when he slaps some cash down on the table, not bothering to wait on having his debit card run through the system, and while he’s had dates far worse than this, this one is really and truly stinging right now. Why would she just get up and run away like that?

The kicker of the whole thing is that they were going to go to the gym after this. But he doesn’t really need to be punching something when he feels like he’s just been punched in the gut himself.

#cs prompt #cs fic #captain swan #trying to clean out my inbox a little #so have all the annoying words friends

[shazyloren]

Praise The Deity

Summary:  Jon's new neighbour may just be the most sexually active person alive, which would be okay, if he hadn't had four hours sleep in four days hearing it. He's not happy, but there might be something he can do to punish her...

Notes: As you know, I am taking part in a challenge on tumblr by user @jonerysfics and @mhysaofdragons in which for seven days from Valentines day I am uploading a new one shot. The prompts have been provided and the stories have all been written and I gotta say you're in for a lot of Jonerys content.So Day 2, 15th February, which is when I'm uploading this, the prompt I chose was 'Hot Neighbour'. This is the story I came up with a while ago and was on my poll to do i had after the room. But it's hear and... it's hot.I really hope you enjoy, please leave kudos and comments if you do, it will mean the world!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17798669

---

That’s the fourth fucking man this week and it’s only Wednesday morning , he thinks as he throws the pillow over his head and prays to a deity that it’ll stop sooner rather than later.

He knows it’s useless in praying, he may as well be asking for Dragons to exist or for himself to suddenly be deaf and not have to hear a single thing. He didn’t have a problem with anyone getting their funk on, like do as you please. But his new neighbour was taking the piss.

His older neighbour had died after a particularly bad case of heroin addiction, and it was an awful thing to see them spiral out of control, but at least the man hadn’t been shouting that he was gonna edjaculate all over someone’s face every night.

It infuriated Jon.

People had no class these days, and it was easily shown.

He had only briefly seen the neighbour once, a small blonde girl who looked as if she’d murder anyone who looked at her incorrectly. But clearly he’d misjudged her to be a sex mad lunatic instead, unsure if he’d rather she’d just be a murderer.

‘God you’re so big’

That’s the last straw then, he doesn’t care if she’s in the middle of her greatest orgasm of all time, he was putting his clothes on and he was going over there and giving her a piece of his mind.

Chucking his bed pillow back onto the small and indented bed, careful not to accidently put his scrubs for work on instead, he throws a pair of jogging bottom and a thin grey shirt on in the dark. His eyes roll over the alarm clock.

3:47am.

Unacceptable, he had to be at work in less than two hours and he’d had about four hours of sleep in as many days. It wasn’t good, he’s had more sleep than this when he was on call during his first days at the hospital.

Sliding his feet into his grey slippers and feeling around for the light switch he flipped it and waited for his eyes to get used to the light. As he began to move again, he began walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water first off, he drank the glass in one gulp.

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum, yes, oh baby’

He hated how thin the walls were, almost like rice paper and definitely more than happy to let him hear the ridiculous noises next door. He’s already complained about it to his brother on the phone, but the response he got was less than helpful and made him shudder to think.

Go join in , that had been his advice.

Jon had not had sex in the best part of two years, his job at the hospital had been his main focus and when he wasn't there, saving people’s lives, he was generally sleeping to catch up with the long hours he was doing. Well, until recently that was.

Right, that’s it, I’m going over.

Jon, with a fervour and resonance inside him, marches over to his front door and unlocks it with haste. As he opens the door, he hears them ‘finish’ for want for a better phrase. Jon slams the door behind him, key in his pocket so he could get back in and turns to face the door next to his. Someone down the hall, pokes their head out of the door, clearly having heard all what’s gone on.

He pulls his hand back and with a seething anger within him, slams his fist down three times on the door, loud and clear.

There’s a yelp and a shuffling behind the door, a prolonged silence follows which gives Jon the chance to calm himself down and remember to remain calm about the situation. Five minutes of sleep is all he’d had, if the woman knew, she’d be reasonable, surely.

The door opens in one long swing and standing there is not the woman he’d seen, but a man of similar height and build to Jon, a beard too. He’s wearing his jeans but not much else and his face is smug as if he knows why Jon is here.

“Can I help you?” The man puffs his chest out, two could play that game.

“Get your shit and get out” Jon snuffs, his anger rising. The man looks disgusted but when Jon glares daggers at him, he holds his hands up and takes a step back. “Go on, get out of here!”

The man scurries then and runs off to somewhere he doesn’t know. There’s a hushed discussion and an incredulous shout but sooner than Jon imagined, the same man came back into the room with his shirt on and darted past Jon out of the door. He watches him leave and then, his attention is drawn elsewhere

“Who the hell are you?” Now all he has to deal with is this fiery blonde he’d only seen once, who had just entered her hallway with a red, silk robe on and nothing else. She was short, but beautiful, and yet she was glaring at Jon like she wanted to take a spoon and scoop his eyeballs out for stepping foot into her home.

“Your neighbour, I think you forgot you had some” He comments offhandedly. “I don’t care if you’re having fun, making money or whatever the hell you’re doing with all these men at all hours in the morning-” He started, her face looking offended at the mere mention of her being a prostitute. “-but I am a nurse at St. Maegor’s Hospital and I have had five minutes of sleep tonight, and thirty the night before, and almost an hour the night before that because of your fucking antics! I have to be up in two hours, reckon you can keep quiet long enough for me to sleep?”

There was almost a flush of embarrassment that swept across her face, but it was only there for the smallest of moments. Jon noticed her eyes were purple, a colour he’d hardly ever saw in people. Her hair was also a really white shade of blonde, almost silvery in appearance.

“Tell me, neighbour, does me having lots of sex make you angry, because you’re not having any?” She asked, stepping closer to him, making him slightly uncomfortable.

This bitch, honestly.

“I’m angry alright, angry that you can’t keep your legs closed at three in the morning” He retorts, his words sizzling on the air. To his surprise she doesn’t yell or curse, she just laughs, a wicked glance in her eye.

“Keeping the legs closed is for boring people, sex is fun” She teased, her eyes assessing him, as if he was meat. Jon did not like that feeling. “You should try it some time”

“I save people, I have a fifteen hour shift tomorrow, I don’t need sex or anything else so trivial, I need sleep” He hammered his point home emphatically yet the power in the conversation shifted. She walked a couple of steps closer to him. “What are you doing?”

“Neighbour, wouldn’t you like to know what you’re missing out on?” She winked for all intents and purposes, Jon couldn’t believe how forward she was being, and he knew that he needed to get out of the apartment or things would get dangerous.

“No I don’t, just keep the noise down” He cut her off, a scathing remark as he left and marched over to her door, pulling it back and storming out of the room. The door closed behind him and he sighed in relief as the cool air blew over his face. Shaking his head from the strange confrontation, he unlocked his own door and stumbled his way through to his bedroom.

I fucking swear to god if she doesn’t let me sleep I’m going over there and gagging her with duct tape .

--

Jon’s shift at work was busy, so much so he didn’t end up getting home until 11pm. When he walked up the outdoor stairs to his floor, he saw the woman he so very much did not want to see, outside her door, looking miserable.

“Waiting for a customer?” Jon chortled.

“Very funny, arsehole” She snapped back to him, wrapping her cardigan around her tighter. “If you must know I’m locked out”

“Can’t say I feel sorry for you” He shrugged and opened his own door. “Let me know if you need water, I’ll be sure to bring it out to you in a dog bowl”

“You know what, Jerk, I’m sorry that you haven’t gotten any sleep because your horny for sex and all, but don’t fucking be a prick! You’re not the only person with a life here, you know?”

Jon didn’t care for anything the woman was saying. When you’ve had six hours sleep in four days you tend to not overly care at all.

Fucking everyone else can be quiet in the early hours in the morning, so you should too.

“You’d know about it, if I was horny for you” Jon smirked before slamming the door on her and throwing his keys into the bowl by the door.

He goes to making dinner and decides on something simple like Stir Fry. He slices peppers and onions and grabs bean sprouts from the tray in the fridge. He creates his own sauce and fries the chicken off first. The smell is incredible, and he’s definitely hungry when he hears his stomach rumble.

He soon realises however, he’s made far too much. Why did my father raise me to be a nice person? He thinks to himself and so, reluctantly, he sees if the woman is still there, waiting for the super to let her in. He opens the door, and she is in fact still there.

“What do you want?” She grumbled, her face a little pale from the cold and her body shaking.

“I was gonna make amends, but I’m not so sure now. I don’t think I should be letting someone freeze to death outside our apartments. Come on, I’m made too much dinner, do you want some?” He asks nicely, trying not to moan about the night before.

“What is it?” She asks.

“Chicken Stir Fry”

Is she going to come in or not?

“Fine, but only because it smells delicious” Jon, showing the women through the door and to his living room, brought her a bowl and poured the remaining into it. He then grabs his own from the kitchen and comes to sit back down with her.

He flicks the TV on.

“Fucking never anything on at this time of night” Jon grumbles.

“Are you serious?” She screws her face up. “Gay Paranormal Historian Truckers is on Channel Five at midnight and it’s the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel”

“What on earth is that show about?” Jon screws his knows up.

“Gay Historians Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon hunt ghosts in their large truck. Gay Paranormal Historian Truckers, duh” She shovels food in her mouth and Jon doesn’t know why the events that have occurred have led to this, but he’s annoyed.

Still, he flips over to Channel Five anyways.

‘Jesus, Loras, it’s behind you while you’re driving!’ One guy says to the other. ‘The fucking ghost of Henry VIII!’

‘Tell him we didn’t kill Jane Seymour!’ The other one replies. ‘Tell him we did kill Anne of Cleaves, spiritually, that was his least favourite wife!’

‘Loras we’re gonna drive off the road, ain’t no time for telling fibs!’

Suddenly, the girl next to him was howling with laughter as the two truckers on the screen manage to avoid a huge dip in the road and regain control of the truck.

Jon didn’t understand the appeal of the show, but after a 15 hour shift, he didn't care. It was entertainment nonetheless.

“I just realised I don’t know your name” She says out of the blue.

“Jon” He sighs, not wanting to be known as the jerk neighbour. “I’m surprised I don’t know yours given the thin walls”

“Oh I never give out my real name to strangers. It’s always Katy or Bethany or Sally” She laughed, a half snort which he had to admit was odd coming out of her mouth. “But it’s Daenerys, or Dany for short actually”

“Strange name” He commented.

“Strange gal” She pointed to herself.

“That I will agree on” He nodded.

“Shove off” She cheekily smiled.

What the hell is going on? Jon finds himself thinking. One moment he’s banging on this woman’s door cus she’s shagging loudly the next she’s in his living room and he’s cracking jokes with her.

“I didn’t mean for you to lose sleep” She admitted. “I respect you for having the balls to come over and yell at me”

“Well, I didn’t want to do it, but you left me with no choice” He shrugged. “I’m a senior Nurse, we’re responsible for people’s health. If I make one incorrect diagnosis, or administer the wrong drug, the results are damaging. Sleep means I’m focused”

“And I’m sorry” She puts a hand on his knew so he knows it’s genuine. “I’ve been through a rough patch and well there’s no excuse but I’m not generally like that”

“It’s fine, I don’t need to know. Like I said, I don’t care who you’re sleeping with just, be respectful of your neighbours”

She nodded, there’s a brief silence as they watch the show.

“You’ve been nice to me, maybe you should’ve been the one in my bed instead. Mother would definitely approve of you”

“Pfft, you wish” He jokes.

There’s a small nod between the two of them before they burst into laughter. Jon feels pleased about the outcome of this chat, and he had to admit, the show was quite entertaining in the end. He looked at the clock and saw it read half twelve, he really needed to be going to sleep, so he could be up at 5:30 for work.

“You can stay on the sofa if you want” He offered. “It’ll be too cold now out there”

“Thank you, I appreciate it” She smiled, picking up both bowls and taking them through to the kitchen, he guessed to save him doing it as he was going to the trouble of letting her stay over.

Jon switched the TV off and tidied up a little, a weird feeling on the air as he realised he’d be able to sleep without trouble that night, but also with the girl who had been the source of his troubles a room away. But as he got a blanket out of a cupboard, and placed it on the sofa for her.

It would’ve been fine if she hadn’t mentioned me being in her bed.

“So, there you go” He put his hands in his pockets and fumbled a bit. When she nodded he started to walk away, this uneasy feeling in his chest.

“Jon?” He hears behind her, almost seductive in tone but curious too. Jon curses himself that he turned around in that moment, but he did and she was looking at him like a woman hadn’t in a very long time.

“Yes, Dany?” He’s tired, but he knows what she’s going to ask. And if he’s honest with himself, he wants her too.

“Can I join you?”

There was a moment, where everything that had happened between the two of them in the past twenty four hours was a complete mess, forgotten, remembered, infuriating, calming. And stupidly, or not stupidly, his reply was sure.

“I think that can be arranged”

--

Her panties were still on but he didn’t let that stop him, nosing them out of the way and tonguing her sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure while it devoured its prey. She was small, and sensitive and everything his sex drive was missing.

He teased her like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to make her suffer for the things she’d done with the others. He was slow in his licks, teasing in the flicker of his tongue. He wanted her to feel frustration and the overwhelming sensation of being so close to the edge.

He would take it away when she was close, he would hold that power over her. It was the wildness of it that got him going: the primal lust, the sheer needs of two people in heat, quickly finding ways to express their sacred hunger to each other in animal passion.

He was someone who had gone so long, finding the drive deep within and exposing it. She was in the thick of it, feeling no control over her hormones. It didn’t matter to either of them, they both had to do this.

Fuck, she tastes good.

“Mmm” It’s her first loud moan of the night and Jon wonders if his mind is going to have flashbacks, but somehow, hearing the girl come undone from his doing made the sound sweeter. “Yes, Jon, eat it”

A muffled response is what he gave her. “Say please”

This was a problem for them both, he could tell. This was a huge problem, and his assault on her cunt  wasn't about to make it any better. Her mouth was dry, but the words came out clear enough:

“Yes, please, Jon. Eat my pussy.” She opens her legs further, his fingers now holding her underwear to one side so he can fully eat this five course meal in front of him.

His eyes glance upwards and sees her, head back, hands on her breasts, squeezing her nipples tightly. Her skin is so smooth all over her, not just her legs and butt, she was an ongoing miracle of skin and lust and he wanted to bath in her every desire.

“I’m going to make you come so good, naughty neighbour” He growls almost, not recognising his own voice. She responds viscerally by leaning into his hand and mouth, wanting the ending he teased her about.

His tongue doesn’t need to work too much magic, midway through his assault on her cunt, she begins panting heavily and seconds after, gushes all over his mouth and hand. He’s shocked. “Ohhhh”

“Did you just have an orgasm, after hearing me talk about giving you an orgasm?” All she can do is sob in reply and Jon suddenly feels glad that he had the balls to go over to her apartment last night. “I think you just came ’cause I’m fingering your sweet pussy and talking dirty to you – you know why?”

“W-why?” She pants as Jon doesn’t stop, but increases his tempo.

“Because you’re so nuts for this. Aren’t you, baby girl? I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around my tongue every time I move a muscle or say a word – ohhhh, yeah. Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers. You gonna do that around my cock?”

The noise that escapes his companions mouth is enough to categorise this night as the best he’s had in months. She’s giving in more, wanting more and he’s ready to give more.

Come for me, Dany.

She did, and it was glorious.

Jon licked as much of it up as he possibly could before the frenzy that was the removal of their remaining clothes. Jon’s cock sprang free and he swore he’d never been harder than the sight of this complicated and feisty woman writhing in ecstasy in front of him.

Seeing her in his bed, lying there breathless, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes upon, and for a moment, he wished he could keep her. But it was just sex, and so he’d make it the best sex the world had ever known.

“Daenerys, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish from now on, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.” He taunts her almost, a promise he was determined to keep. “We’ll see how those other men did a bad job  when I’m done”

“I want that” She hisses.

“Excuse me?” Jon’s cock was ready to enter her, his hands pushing her legs wide with authority and strength. She was still teasing her own nipples.

“Yes, please, I would like that” She moans.

“Better” And with that, he pushed his head inside her and went for the first thrust. The sensation was overwhelming, and in some way surreal. Despite her many male partners the past week, she felt tighter than he’d ever imagined. The way he felt inside her, as if he was meant to be inside her.

“Oh, Jon” She sighed, unprepared for the depth and pace he was going to give her. He was going to fuck her with the unchained, debauched craving of a man condemned to die at dawn, or at least one who had to get up early for work.

Jon had experience lust before, he’d had his fair share of uneventful evenings and decided to pick up a girl, he knew what good sex was and how to please a girl, but as he thrusted into this magnificent fair woman underneath him, as he watched her face contort with the throes of pleasure, he didn’t understand lust completely until now.

Jon goes deep inside her, as far as he can, until his stomach is touching hers, her legs spread as far as humanly possible. He slowly pulls out inch by inch and watches as she becomes hungrier to be whole again.

“Very good” He coos as she moans and thrashes beneath him. “You ready?”

She only mumble in reply, a small smirk on his face as he pushes into her with speed and back out again just as fast. For want of a better word, she screams to high hell. “Ohhhhh god!”

Pulling up a leg to sit on his shoulder, he holds it there with one hand, his other, he uses his thumb to circle her clit while he thrusts his hips quicker than ever. She’s slick and wet, oh how wet she actually is.

“You’re a bad girl, making me lose sleep, you know that” He growls with each thrust into her moist cunt. She’s crying in pleasure, tears running down her face. “Tell me, tell me how bad you are, Daenerys”

“So bad, so very bad ohhhh” She moans and groans and each syllable that comes out of her mouth is a motivator to thrust harder. “Punish me, do it Jon”

So, egged on by the girl under him, Jon slaps her pussy while he’s inside her and watches her come undone beneath him. She loves it, she’s a filthy whore for him and they both know it. He wants to fuck her pussy all night, he could do, to punish her for her bad behaviour. He slaps her there again. “Smack those pretty tits for me”

She does as she’s told and suddenly, this primal and controlling part of Jon, who’s hair was starting to get soaked from the heat the two of them were creating, erupted. “Again?” She asks after rubbing the place her titties were now red. “You want me to keep going?”

“Again, you naughty girl” He commands and she does, wincing as she does. The next once she lands, he also slaps her pussy at the same time, making her writhe in painful pleasure once again.

She’s getting wetter and it’s at this moment he knows she’s not lasting long. He lands five sharp slaps on her cunt in a row and watches for her reaction. “You gonna come for me again, neighbour?” She nods desperately. “Do you want to come?” Again she nods. “Of course you want to, you filthy whore”

He is both ecstatic and flabbergasted by how much of a needy, wanton slut he somehow has turned her into, who even after two shuddering orgasms, wants to experience a lot more, who craves another release.

She looks as if she needs to speak to him, but the power of words had once again deserted her. The pleasure was climbing, spiralling high and fast, taking them both by storm. Unable to hold back, he leaned forward and hands slipped to her tits. She clutched at him and he at her; sensation gathered there, in the very centre of her body and on his dick, the place he possessed so fully. Had she surrendered? He wondered as she screams louder and louder.

He watched as she closed her eyes and flung her head back. Release was close for them both. He could feel it coming, shivering throughout her body as she begins to tighten around him. He feels himself losing control as she shivers around his cock, gushing as she did. He kissed the arch of her throat.

"Dany" he said, his tone almost raw. "Oh gods, Dany"

Her nails bit into his shoulders as he pushed up into her for the last few thrusts. The walls of her channel contracted around him again, again and again and again, sending spasms of release hurtling through them both.

“Fuck” She whispers, as he creams inside her and they lay there in what was now the aftermath of their crazy sex.

He doesn’t move for a while, a bold and disgusting thought of making sure his swimmers punish her for the time she kept him awake passing through like a fleeting memory. He pulls out and instantly they both ache for one another again. His seed leaks out of her yet she is so immobile, frozen with sweat and disbelief at the orgasm they both had.

“So” He starts. “Are you gonna keep me awake again?”

“No, Sir” She sighs all flustered.

“Sir?” He grimaced slightly. “You make me feel old”

“Shut up, idiot” She gently smacked his arm, her chest rising and falling. She turns on her side, his cums still glistening in her cunt. “So” She then mimics him. “Round two?”

Well shit.

#jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jon x daenerys #jonerys #jonerysvalentine #mhysaofdragons #game of thrones #fanfic

[hannah-khoury-deserves-better]

Take Me Home Chapter 3

Summary: Hannah gets some unexpected news and she and Tammy have to figure out their new reality.

Words - 2180

Warnings: none

Pairings: Hannah Khoury/Tammy Gregorio, Tammy Gregorio/Sebastian Lund (Friendship) Hannah Khoury/Jack Sloane (Friendship), Jack Sloane/Leon Vance, others to be added.

A False Spring

Hannah wandered around  her kitchen, luckily she had managed to sleep some the night before. She could hear Naomi’s footsteps from the hallway, she was up and getting ready for school

“Naomi, get ready we have to leave in ten minutes” she called out.

As Hannah made Naomi’s lunch, happy that her new child had only made her sick once so far, and if she had to get sick again, hopefully would be after she dropped Naomi off at school.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Yeah baby I'm fine why?” Hannah asked as she put a sandwich in Naomi's lunchbox.

“I heard you get sick this morning and you’re acting weird.” Naomi replied as has came up to Hannah.

“Just a lot on my mind baby.”

“When are you moving in with me and Dad?” Naomi asked, her face tilting up to look at Hannah.

“Baby we talked about this, your dad and I aren't married anymore, remember?” Hannah said as she brushed some of Naomi's hair back.

“That's not fair mom.”

“I know.” Hannah sighed.

“Go get your shoes we're about to be late.”

---

As Doctor Mary Riggen walked in, she greeted Hannah, “Hey Agent Khoury, how are you doing today?”

Hannah who was sitting on the exam table, in the paper gown they had given her “Okay I think, I've been sick a couple of times but the exhaustion is the worse part.”

“Well those symptoms should hopefully die down in about a month for you.” Doctor Riggen said as she looked at her tablet “Your blood test confirms that you are in fact pregnant.”

“Congratulations. But I want to do an ultrasound today, both to confirm how far along you are, and make sure everything looks good. I see on your chart that you’ve had several miscarriages.”

Hannah nodded “I want to do as much as we can, I want a healthy baby.”

“Okay lean back then, sorry the gel is cold.” Doctor Riggen said as she adjusted the probe, “And there is your baby” she said pointing at a small blob on the screen.

Hannah felt some tears prick at her eyes, as she looked at her new child that was growing inside her.

“Okay Agent Khoury, you can sit up.” As she handed Hannah a towel to wipe her stomach off with.

“So you are seven weeks along. Everything looks good, try and take it easy in the field.” Doctor Riggen said as she made notes on the tablet. “I'm giving you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. I want to see you again when you are twelve weeks.”

The front desk will help you make a appointment and give you a copy of the ultrasound if you want it. Do you have any questions for me?” She said as she looked up at Hannah.

“I don't think so, but I can call if needed correct?”

“Yes anytime. We have a 24/7 line here. My extension is 482.” Doctor Riggen said as she left the room.

Hannah leaned back, her pregnancy seemed much more real now, even more than it had before. Her thoughts however were cut off by her phone ringing.

“Yeah Loretta.” She said as she answered it, listening to Loretta speak “okay on the way. I should be there in about thirty minutes. Have the team get started.” She said as she hung up the phone and moved to get redressed and go to the new crime scene.

---

The sun beat down on the ally near Jackson square, the wind was picking up and pushing trash about. Hannah walked over towards the group of vehicles she could see, she pushed through the crowd towards Lasalle, who was waiting for her with her jacket and hat.

“Hey boss, Naomi okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, just needed to do something before I came in today,” Hannah replied as she pulled the jacket and hat on.

“So what do we have? And who found the body?”

“Tourists that were coming back from a walk about Jackson Square and found em” Chris replied as they walked towards to the crime scene.  

“Ah, Hannah there you are. We have Captain Gregory Hant he has multiple stab wounds including one to the chest, which I'm guessing is the cause of death.” Loretta said.

“But we also have some type of substance on the captain’s body. Sebastian can try and identify it when I get him back to autopsy.”

The substance was grabbed by the wind and blew towards the team as they listened to Loretta.

“It's okay I've already got a sample of it. I don't think we need to worry.”

“Thanks, Loretta. Street cams?” Hannah asked.

“Camera coverage is light here, I'll ask the businesses if they have angles here,” Tammy said.

“Great, Lasalle, you and I will head back to the squad room see what we can find out,” Hannah ordered.

---

Hannah looked up at Chris “Ready?”

“Yeah what do ya got,” he replied as he entered into the center of the room.

“Captain Gregory Hant worked on the wharves, he was in charge of buying fresh produce for the Navy.” Hannah said as she brought up his file “recently however he's been accused of mishandling funds. Other than that his service records clean.”

Chris nodded “married with a four-year-old son. Wife said he's been distant lately, but was a loving father.”

Hannah bit her lip, “So, no clear reason to murder him?”

“I might have something” Tammy hollered as she walked in, “One of the cameras caught this near the time of death” clicking on her keyboard before gesturing to the screen. There was a man in a dark uniform and he came out of the alley a knife in hand before wiping it down and throwing it in the sewer grate.

“Was that a marine that just killed our victim?” Chris asked slowly.

“Looks like it,” Tammy said.

“Okay, Gregorio get with Patton see if he can find this guy somewhere else, get a better angle.”

Hannah said before turning to Chris, “Lasalle look into anyone who might have had problems with the victim, see if you can find who accused him of mishandling the funds”.

“On it, boss” Chris said as he headed to his desk.

“What about you?” Tammy asked.

“I'm going to the morgue for an update from Loretta,” Hannah said as she left the office.

---

Hannah walked into the JPSO building, looking around for Loretta’s lab.

A warm dulcet voice came from behind her, “Hannah, here for an update?” Loretta asked as she came past her.

Hannah blinked out of her daydreaming, “Yes I am. What exactly are we dealing with here Loretta?”

Loretta gestured  as she made to the table, “We are dealing with a vicious stabbing. The killer wanted to cause maximum pain before allowing him to die. Captain Hant took stabs to his shoulder, both hips and grazes to his ribs and short puncture wounds to his legs,” the coroner pointed to the x-ray photos of the victim’s body.

“The causes of death is dissection of the aorta. The blow to the throats was postmortem.”

Taking a deep breath and pointing to the screen “The substance found appears to be mold of some type, he had also breathed it in shortly before death.”

“How can you know when he breathed in the substance?” Hannah asked.

“It was present in his sinus cavity but there was no inflammation so the body didn't have enough time to react to it,”

Hannah took a deep breath “What about the team? Do we need to be worried?”

Loretta shook her head, hair covered by the purple and tan scrub hat she wore. “No the team should be fine, the mold had degraded below the infective dose, and no one has a compromised immune system.”

Hannah paused in her pacing, “What about an unborn child. What would exposure do?”

“As long as the mother isn't infected the child should be fine. Why?” Loretta looked at Hannah, her dark eyes seemingly seeing through her.

“I'm seven weeks pregnant,” Hannah confessed, looking up briefly before dropping her eyes back to to the ground.

“Hannah that's wonderful!” Hannah smiled softly.

“What does Ryan think? He must be pleased.” Loretta said as she rounded the autopsy table.

“He doesn't know. I got pregnant the day before he signed the divorce papers. I'm not sure when I'm going to tell him or Naomi. Or how.” Her smile dropped as she explained the aftermath of it, her eyes still locked on the ground.

Loretta leaned her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

Hannah took a deep breath before starting “Ryan and I, really wanted another baby after we had Naomi, but I had five miscarriages after having her. The last one five years ago, came after I was at work, helping with this big op, I was almost three months along. That miscarriage was the beginning of the end for us. He blamed me for losing his baby.”

Hannah shook her head. “After the group made an attempt on my life and Ryan and Naomi were nearly killed. I sent divorce papers. He finally signed them but if he knows I'm having another baby. He’ll take custody the moment I give birth.” Hannah turned her head up to see Loretta “I can't make the mistakes I made with Naomi. I want this baby.”

Loretta pulled Hannah into a hug, feeling Hannah's body crumple against her before tears soaked her shoulder.

“Let's get you some tea sweetheart.”

---

Sebastian walked into the morgue looking at a tablet “so I figured out what kind of mold it is. Did you know there's over a hundred thousand types? Which is kind of terrifying if you think about it.”

“Sebastian dear, what did you find?” Loretta interrupted him.

He looked up and found a slightly teary looking Hannah sitting next to Loretta both had tea mugs in their hands.

“Oh, it's Stachybotrys Chartarum, black mold. Unfortunately, it's kind of common, it likes damp and warm places.”

“So all of New Orleans,” Hannah groaned as she put her mug back on Loretta’s desk. “Let's head back to the office, see if the others have had better luck. Thank you, Loretta.”

“You're welcome dear. My door is always open.” Loretta said as she picked up the mugs and went to clean them.

----

Hannah and Sebastian walked into the office together, while he split to the side to upload a map. Hannah turned to look as Chris, a questioning look on her face. “Did you find anyone with problems against the Captain?”

“Kinda. His brother in law, Sam Grady, has fought him several times, the last one two weeks ago, got the police called on ‘em. But he's out of town so he didn't do it.”

“At least not personally.” Sebastian pointed out.

“Also his second in command at the wharfs, Commander Lucas Thiy, is the one that filled the report against him. He's currently working on taking supplies out to a boat, due back in a hour. I'll pick him up then.”

“Okay take Sebastian with you for backup. And talk to him there, just in case.” Chris nodded and gestured for Sebastian to follow him out.

Hannah shook her head and went to see where Tammy and Patton where on finding the suspect.

She walked into Patton’s office “hey please tell me, you have good news.”

“Nope sorry boss, pretty quickly after the first time we see him that Gregorio found we only have a few more shots of him.” Patton said, shaking his head.

“Okay what are you doing then.” Hannah asked.

“I'm running with Gregorio’s help, my new program. It should be able to figure out our killer’s info. Like height weight that kinda thing.”

“Do programs that do that not already exist? And it can be mistaken by things like clothes and thick soled shoes.”

Patton gasped, “Not my program. It's written to take all that into account.”

Hannah turned to Tammy “And your doing what?”

“I'm trying to figure out his training. From how he walks and kills, I'm not thinking marine anymore.” Tammy replied her eyes glued to the screen.

“Okay I'm going to go start tracking the captain’s movements throughout the city the day he died.” Hannah said as she left the room.

----

Tammy walked into the main office and smiled she and Hannah were the only ones left in the building.

“Hey, what are you doing” she asked as she sat on the corner of Hannah's desk.

“Trying to keep up with the paperwork that comes with being lead agent,” Hannah said as she lent back in her chair.

“Oh I never want to do more paperwork than I do now.” Tammy said with a laugh.

“So you want to get out of here. Dinner and a movie at my place?” Hannah asked softly.

“Naomi’s back with Ryan. It's just us.”

“Sure, let me get my jacket.” Tammy said moving back to her desk, before meeting Hannah at the door, the two walking out hand in hand.

#ncis new orleans #ncis nola #ncis new orleans fanfiction #tammy gregorio x hannah khoury #hannah khoury #tammy gregorio #sebastian lund #loretta wade #chris lasalle #fluff #angst #khourgorio

[loserholland]

Twenty Dollars

Tom Holland

Pairing ↠ Tom Holland x Reader

Warning ↠ LOTS OF FLUFF, a hint of smut at the end teehee and (Daddy kink

Word Count ↠ 2,046

Summary ↠ When pictures of the Reader and Tom alone in paris together surface, fans begin to think that they’re dating. Though the fans will get their answer’s at ACE Comic Con.

P.S ↠  Kate Bishop isn’t in Infinity War just wanted to add her in because I love Kate Bishop sm, she’s a QUEEN.

☞  Masterlist ☜

 It’s been two weeks since (Y/N) and Tom had come back from Paris, two weeks since the paparazzi and fans had uploaded photo’s of the two alone in Paris together. Endless tweet’s of ‘Are you and Tom dating?’ ‘(Y/N) & Tom alone together in Paris!’ ‘Marvel Star’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) & Tom Holland new power couple?’.

The couple had kept their relationship on the down low, their closes friends and family knew, and so did the marvel cast. Though they hadn’t official announce their relationship to the world, but a weekend in Paris changed everything. Yes fans had suspected the two beans dating, many ship accounts and constant tweets of ‘Just date already!’ ‘A cute pair of smol beans who are meant for each other.’ ‘When (Y/N) and Tom date, I can die happily.’ etc. 

ACE Comic Con was coming up and will be our first appearance since Paris, our mangers said to just keep it on the down low and announce our relationship when we want to. Tom and I began to pack entering in and out of our shared closet “So do you wanna maybe wanna confirm that we’re dating at one of the panels?” I questioned picking out which heels I plan to bring “If you’re comfortable to confirm in front of a thousand of our fans, then yes.” Tom answered. I walked back out to our bedroom placing my heels into my suitcase, throwing in what ever clothing I had picked out.

Now you must be wondering how we met, well it all started on set I was casted for the roll of Kate Bishop aka Hawkeye one of the member of the young avengers. From then on we became good friends, bestfriends and well a couple. I know very cliché, falling in love with your bestfriend. I mean who wouldn’t fall in love with Tom, he’s gorgeous, sweet and a little very nerdy.

It was currently ten in the morning and our flight was at four, last minute packing is always great. By the time it was twelve we were done packing and had a little lunch we had to be at the airport by one-thirty, we rushed around the condo double checking if we got everything. “Love? Got everything?” I asked Tom as I dragged my suitcase to the front door, I entered our shared bedroom as Tom sat on his suitcase attempting to close it “Love?” I questioned as he turned to the door “Darling, help me close this.” I laughed at his actions before heading over to close it. I looked down at my apple watch twelve-fortyfive.

 “Love we have to go before we catch traffic.” 

 We arrived in Seattle at about Seven, we ordered room service so we didn’t have to leave the hotel since we need to be up so early. By the time it was Ten, Tom and I got into bed my head rested on his bare chest as I traced random patterns on his back “Love?” I whispered as Tom hummed, I pulled away to look up at him “How do you think the fans will react?” Tom sighed tucking a piece of hair behind my ear “They’ll be excited, but a little sad that I’m off the market-” I whacked his chest playfully causing him to laugh leaning down to kiss my forehead “Though, if they’re true fans, they’ll accept the fact that we’re dating and that I love you.” I smiled leaning up to give him a chaste kiss “I love you too.” I rested my head in the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist slowly drifting into a deep slumber.

Morning came quick, we had to be down at the convention center at Eleven sharp, I wore a simply outfit a white cami body suit, along with black jeans that had a little ruffle along the bottom with a gucci belt, and a pair of Christian Louboutin grey suede Pigalle’s. I accessorized with a layered necklace and a few bracelets. Once I was done curling my hair and applying mascara and lip gloss I exited the bathroom to see Tom sitting at the edge of the bed he wore a simple black top pair with denim jeans paired with brown boots and watch on his left wrist.

 “Ready to go love.” I grabbed my purse and phone as Tom cleared his throat I turned to look at him “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he questioned as I furrowed my brows, I have my phone, wallet, pass, lipgloss, what am I forgetting “No, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.” he walked over taking off his brown leather jacket and placed it over my shoulders as I stood there confused.

“I don’t want anyone looking at my girls girls.” he pointed at my slight exposed chest causing me to giggle oh he was jealous “Awe is Tommy jealous?” Tom rolled his eyes as he avoided eye contact I placed my hand on his cheek as I kissed him these heels still make me a bit shorter than him “No need to be jealous Tommy, you’re the only one who get’s to see them. Now let’s go hm?” 

 Once we got to the convention center, we were dropped off at the back so we could get to our panels that started in about five minutes. Sebastian and Anthony we’re currently at the panel Tom and I were going to join, I placed my purse in the little room that we had backstage as we headed to the panel that was down the hall. I was to go on first then Tom would join about ten minutes later, Tom and I stood backstage it was as we waited for my cue. I wrapped my arms around Tom’s torso as I rest my head on his chest “So when you come on, and if a fan ask if we’re dating then we’ll answer the question together?” I asked Tom pulling away to look up at Tom’s face as he nodded tucking a piece of hair behind my ear “I’m pretty sure someone is bound to ask that question.” Tom said as I nodded kissing him once more “(Y/N) you’re on in thirty.” the person working backstage handed me a mic as I kissed Tom once more waiting for Seb to introduce me.

“We have another guest.” Seb said as the crowd cheered “She’s my little sister and will kick your ass. Kate Bishop aka Hawkeye the youngest avenger, the one and only (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” I made my way up the stage waving at the crowd as they cheered Anthony and Seb stood up as I gave them a quick hug then sat next to Seb.

“Hi guys!” I said into the mic as the crowd went wild shouts of ‘I loved you!”as I giggled “I love you too!” I crossed my right leg over my left as the interviewer began to ask me questions “So what’s it like to play Kate Bishop?” I sighed “Well, it takes a lot of working out and training, honestly there was never a time before and during the film I was in the gym. It was like a daily thing and I’ve gotten use to waking up at Six to work out for about two hours.” The interviewer nodded as he went on to ask more questions, “So I’ve heard you did your own stunts?” the crowd cheered as I nodded “Yes actually I decided to do my own stunts, which meant lots of practice and of course the fight scenes are choreographed so endless days practicing to get it perfect.” Tom watched his beautiful girlfriend smiling to himself as he thought of how lucky he was to have a girlfriend like you.

 About ten minutes later the interviewer said “We’re actually gonna bring out one more person for questions.” Tom made his way up the stage causing the crowd to go wild he waved at the crowd for a little bit as I smiled a little, your boyfriend wiggled himself between you and Anthony as he rested his right arm on the couch fans began to line up waiting to ask questions. So far there was about five fans that asked about our roles and if we’d like to have our own movie or on our ‘deaths.’ in Infinity war.  Another fan walked up to the mic she seemed to be about twelve or thirteen years old “Hi I’m Audrey, this question goes out to (Y/N).I love you” she began and  made heart shaped hands as I said “Hi Audrey. I love you too!” I mimicked her actions. 

“So, that jacket looks awfully familiar.. is that Tom’s jacket?” the crowd began to go wild as I glanced at Tom then back at the crowd nodding “Yes, this is his jacket.” the crowd began to scream as Tom added in “I didn’t want her to be cold, plus she looks way better in it than me right?” some fans began to scream ‘Yes!’ as Tom gasped dramatically “Guys! You were suppose to say I look better!” I playfully hit Tom’s shoulder. 

“Hi, my name is Brooklyn and this question goes out to Tom and (Y/N) my parents.” Seb choked on the water he was drinking causing the crowd to erupt in laughter “I’m sorry Brooklyn please continue.”  Seb apologized as I patted his back lightly holding in my laughter. “So, I’ve, well we’ve seen pictures of you two in Paris so we just want to know are you two dating?” I looked at Tom as he took he intwined his right hand with my left hand kissing the back of my hand “Yes, we’re dating.”  Brooklyn screamed into the mic as did others fans.

Anthony stood up and pointed at Seb “You owe me twenty bucks!” as Tom and I stared at him confusingly “Seb and I made a bet that one of your fans would ask if you two were dating, I said yes a fan would ask and he said no. So I get twenty bucks!”

 New headlines were out ‘Marvel stars (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tom Holland confirm relationship.’

I laid my head on Tom’s bare chest scrolling through instagram, tons of fans posted pictures of us on stage with our hands intwined tons of different captions ‘I can die happy!’ ‘My parents!’ ‘My ship sailed!’ I liked some of the photos that the fan accounts tagged me in before placing my phone of the nightstand. Tom was sleeping soundly his right hand behind his head as his other was wrapped around your shoulder.

I sat up straddling his lap as I kissed his up his toned body, lightly flicking my tongue over his left nipple then continued leaving wet kisses up his neck to his jaw then his soft plump lips. I began to grind against his clothes area, Tom groaned as he began to wake up “Hi baby.” I whispered innocently as Tom smiled kissing you once more before flipping your position’s causing a squeal to leave your lips. He lips crashed into yours as his hands began to lift your, well his t-shirt you’d taken from him to use for bed. Tom began to massage your boobs as you moaned, he took that advantage to slip his tongue into mouth as you both fought for dominance.

Tom lightly pinched at your already hard nipple before leaving a wet kiss over it “You know sweetheart, I’m still angry that you wore that silly bodysuit showing off to the world what’s mine.. Maybe I should punish you for that.” (Y/N) looked into Tom’s once chocolate eyes to eyes filled with lust as she swallowed the knot in her throat rubbing her thighs together for some sort of friction.

“What do you think sweetheart? Should I punish you?” Tom asked innocently as I began to nod earning a light slap to my left boob “Sweetheart use your words, I don’t want to add to your punishment.” Tom lowered his head down to your neck leaving lilac marks as your whispered “Yes daddy.”

Tom hummed in response “Good girl.” he whispered nipping at your earlobe. Lifting his head from your neck to kiss your jaw then your cheek and finally capturing your lips with his.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #loserholland #loserholland masterlist

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

I’M Coming Back For You - Pt. 2

Jerome Valeska x Winged!Reader 

A/N: IM BACK! I’m so happy! So so happy! 

I am definitely still taking requests, so please send them! I don’t have many ideas right now! I’m mostly uploading stories that I’ve already written that I want to transfer to this site!)  

Tags are open, so feel free to ask to be tagged in any of my stories! 

Please, please, please, PLEASE leave feedback!!! I love hearing from y’all! It makes my day!

Summary Kinda Thing/Original Imagine: Welp, there’s a curious Jerome and a who lot of filling.

Warnings: There aren’t really any warnings for this chapter. Maybe spoilers. I don’t know if it really counts. Anywho, this chapter is kind of a filler. I don’t know. It happened. Waffles.

Word Count:  1473 - Just The Story,  1606 - Total

 The next morning Jerome shuffled out of bed and made his way sleepily to the kitchen where he found you making waffles and dancing around the room while “Shape of You” played. The ginger had to hold back his laughter watching you bop all over the kitchen while putting a fresh waffle on a plate with three others that you had previously made. It was more adorable than funny to Jerome. 

You did another spin then froze in place, squeaking when you realized that Jerome had been watching you dance. You quickly and abruptly stopped dancing and closed your wings around you, trying to hide your embarrassed, blushing face.  

“How long have you been there?” You ask, tightly closing you eyes and tensing up your wings, preparing to cringe if he had been standing there for a long time. You hoped he hadn’t been.

“Long enough.” Jerome smirked upon seeing the suspicious look you gave him.

You didn’t like that response because that meant that he could have been standing there for thirty seconds, or thirty minutes, and you’d never know.  

“Anywho.” You continue, turning around again, letting your wings relax. “I’ve made waffles if you’d like. There’s butter, syrup, and whipped cream on the table. If you like peanut butter on your waffles then I can get that out for you as well.”  

“I think I’ll be good. Thank you though.”

You then brought the plate of waffles to the table and the of you ate in silence for the most part. There would be times when you would see a butterfly or something, and you would completely perk up; wings and all, then excitedly blurt out “Butterfly!” in a voice that Jerome found absolutely adorable. Other times you would start mumbling to yourself about what the plans for the day were, or something of that nature.

Once you were done eating, you stood and announced: “Well, breakfast was great, and you were privy to The Amazing (Y/N): Dancer and Cook.” You joked  and laughed a little as you put your used plate in the dishwasher. “Sadly, I have to go into work today. I tried calling last night to see if I could get someone to cover for me, but no one was available, so I’m afraid I have to leave. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright. Where do you work?” Jerome asked, suddenly curious about your day-to-day life.

“I’m currently working at the pet store that’s a few blocks away. I work in aquatics as the head of that department.” You explained, straightening out a feather that had gone awry as you grab your purse, coat, and car keys.  

“That’s interesting. When will you be back?”

“I’ll probably be home around four this afternoon. Until then, make yourself feel at home. Just don’t burn down the house!” You giggled a little and turned to open the door.

“Ill see you then! I make no promises about burning the house down, but I’ll try my best. See ya!” Jerome smiled at you as you headed out the door and to work.  

-Jerome’s POV-

She’s so sweet. I thought as I watched her leave. I couldn’t get enough. From the gentle tone of her voice, to her laugh, to the four crimson wings on her back that I almost desperately wanted to touch: She was addictive. I Couldn’t stop thinking about her, and, If I’m being honest, I didn’t want to. 

As I wandered around the house, not knowing what to do now, I took in everything I could. I saw the piano in the living room, and the old clock on top of it. She had a bunch of clocks. There were two in this room, one in the dining room, and a grandfather clock in the other living room-sized room that housed a pool table of all things.  

I wonder if she can play. I noted in my mind, looking at the clean green felt of the table, and thinking back to the piano in the other room.

Walking around this house made me want to ask her about herself. Why there were so many clocks, what the deal was with the pool table, why there was so much stained glass in her home. (It was everywhere!) Four o'clock couldn’t come fast enough.

Once I had done my fair share of exploring I decided to lay down on the couch and watch TV. It wasn’t the most exciting way to spend the day, but I didn’t know what else to do.

-- 

I woke up at the sound of the door opening. Funny, I don’t remember falling asleep. I looked to my watch to see that it was 4:25, and huge smile spread on my face as I turned to see (Y/N) hanging her coat on the coat rack.  

-Back to Third Person! -

You hung your coat on the rack, and let your purse down on the little table that was under it.  “I’m back!” You sang, noticing Jerome on the couch. 

“Hi.” He greeted with a small wave of his hand. 

You went to join him on the couch before asking how his day had been. 

“It was alright. I wandered around a bit, just taking in the house. I watched TV for a bit, and then fell asleep until you came home.” Jerome said, remembering the questions he had for you.  He was about to ask you about the insane number of clocks you had in your house, but he was beaten by your own question. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Your eyes went wide with concern, and you reached out to place a hand gently on his shoulder.

He found the concern strange, but he appreciated it. He had never really had anyone worry about his well being before. 

“I slept fine. I just don’t usually get a lot of sleep, so I took the chance.” Jerome explained, causing a look of pity or sympathy to cross across your face, and your wings to dip a little. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll leave you be if you’d like to sleep some more.” You quickly stood up to leave before Jerome reached out for your wrist, gently holding it so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No, not at all. I was really just passing time, waiting for you to get home.” 

You didn’t say anything in return, but the look on your face told Jerome that that meant something to you. 

“I actually have a couple questions for you. I was looking around the house and I noticed that there were a fair few clocks. I was wondering why?” 

You just smiled and sat down, but before you could answer, there was a knock on your cherry red door that sounded either urgent or just angry.

You stood, and Jerome followed as you looked to the door with a confused look, your wings perking up from surprise. 

When you opened the door, you saw a cop whose eyes were dull and half-lidded. They seemed completely disinterested when they spoke to you. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” 

“Yes, that would be me.” You answer, noticing Jerome staying back from the door, growing nervous once again.  

“Is there a Mr. Jerome Valeska here?” The cop asks. 

“Um, yes. He just right here.” You explain softly, almost shyly. 

The cop barged in before you could show them where he was. 

“Mr. Jerome Valeska. You’re under arrest for suspicion of Lila Valeska’s murder.” The cop recited in a bored, but frustrated tone when they saw Jerome.  

“What?” Jerome asked with a confused tone filling his voice. “Something has to be wrong. I didn’t kill my mother. I...I couldn’t...”

“Listen, I was just told to bring you to the GCPD under suspicion of your mother’s murder.” The cop dully explained as if they just wanted to get this over with. 

Jerome sighed worriedly before answering the careless cop.

“Alright. Just let me say goodbye to (Y/N).”  

“You have five minutes.” Was the only response given before the strange cop left the room. You thought that that was strange. 

“I’m sorry. (Y/N).” Jerome apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright. Just know that you’re always welcome here. And, between you and me,” You motioned for him to come closer so you could whisper to him. “If you did do it; If you did murder your mother, you’re always welcome to hide out here once you escape. Ill make more waffles.” You finished with a devilish grin, and when you pulled back you saw that Jerome was smiling his own maniacal smile.

“Oh believe me darling. Once I get out, I’m coming back for you.”  

With that, the cop took Jerome away, and you were left to smirk at the next morning’s paper when you read about his arrest and sentence to Arkham.  

TAGS:

Forever and Always:

@blackirisposts​ @savvythedork​

Just For This Story:

@crimsonredcoco​ @childishmonster05​ @crazydcchick

TAGS:

Forever and Always:

@blackirisposts​ @savvythedork​

Just For This Story:

@crimsonredcoco​ @childishmonster05​ @crazydcchick

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska fluff #soft jerome #i freakin love jerome #I'm so happy with this story so far #i have so many ideas #seriously #I have a draft filled with ideas for this story #eek!!! #i'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 9

*Arrives two days late with Starbucks* ‘Sup, guys! σ( ▼∀▼)σ These past 96 hours have somehow filled me with a weird chaotic energy, and I pumped out the longest roller-coaster of a chapter I’ve ever done in such a short amount of time!!! Thank you, whoever sent all the writing vibes my way!!!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ I’m sending out strong vibes to everybody in return! *May you get hit by the writing bug and have the opportunity and energy to completely translate your ideas to printed words!*

Buuut a big note before we get to the good stuff:  I realized too late that the original events of S2 take place in Spring. Like…April. I was writing all of this with the thought that S2 took place in fall; I mean, the characters can wear a leather jacket or a couple of layers comfortably, so I thought “yeah that sounds like early autumn”. Nope! So that means that for this story’s timeline, everything gets shifted into where it should be. On the downside, that means I had to go through and edit all the bits where it said “it was totally spring, you guys”. On the upside… IT’S NOW OCTOBER!!!!! THE SPOOKY SEASON THAT COMPLETELY FITS WITH WHAT’S GOING ON!!! And coincidentally, it’s my favorite time of the year, so I love writing about it even more! I get to add in a thing here and there about the spookiest time of the year, so I’ll have a nice list of what those little changes are uploaded here soon if you don’t feel like re-reading the whole thing. A re-read isn't necessary though, just keep in mind that the humid air of rainy spring in the city is replaced with chilling fronts and even more cloud cover than usual. Why am I bothering with this? Because I’m a stickler for keeping with canon as much as possible and I feel like an absolute fool for not remembering what goddamn time of year it was to begin with. (I mean, I went so far as to download all of TeamFourStar’s play-through because I watched it so often, you think I'd remember to go back and watch the very beginning once in a while…)

Anywho, thank you all again for your continuously loving support!!! 

♡~(ɔ ˘3˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Important Spoiler Tags: drugs (mentioned), swearing, canon-typical violence, electric shocks (mentioned), torture of flowers, flirting, almost an excessive use of emoji, crying, romantic dirty thoughts

<Prev> <Next> <All>

Read on Ao3 or continue below:

Chapter 9:  Grapevines

Bruce Wayne couldn’t remember the last time he’d conducted a meeting from his home office. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it – the desk surface had hardly any dust settled on it and two empty coffee mugs he’d forgotten about on two different occasions just happened to be stacked behind the monitor – but it felt strange, like a lot of things did lately.

He knew part of the reason for that was watching houses down in the Batcave right now. Knowing he wasn’t alone in the house was comforting, but knowing there were two cops outside the Manor’s front door just waiting for a chance to grab his best friend-cum-houseguest was not, and knowing that they were both close to being thrown in hot water was even less so.

He figured the other reason he felt strange was because he was slipping back into his old habit as if it had never been shelved in the first place. He had time to kill before the video meeting started, so he’d been scouring for information on “Pam”, Jonathan Crane’s ‘old friend’.

There were a few Pamela’s in Gotham, but only one fit within Crane’s age-range and attended Gotham University at about the same time:  Pamela Isley, a forty-four-year-old former botanist with a record that ran the length of his arm. Theft, assault, threats, and attempted poisonings all done in the name of extreme environmentalism and social activism were sprinkled in her history before and after her days as a researcher, and according to GCPD records, she was now suspected of running her own drug-ring under the moniker of ‘Poison Ivy’. (Bruce found several recorded instances of people claiming to be Poison Ivy, most of whom were already arrested.)

Bruce would’ve wondered why on Earth she hadn’t been thrown in prison when she made a bomb-threat at a wealthy businessman several states away nearly a decade ago if he hadn’t seen her mug-shot from back then. At thirty-five, she looked every bit as beautiful as a top-billed Hollywood star, with natural orange-red curls cascading over her pale shoulders and ample bust in chemically-tamed waves, flashing the camera a come-hither stare that made it look like she was trying for a part in a high-budget porn flick rather than standing in front of a height chart for her criminal record. Pamela’s charges were mysteriously swept under the rug.

The latest photo he found of her reminded him a bit of those ‘cougar’ dating ads he’d seen – the older Pamela was blowing a kiss to the camera with a mocking look in her dark green eyes. Bruce glared at it. There was little doubt she was using people to cover for her constantly, and when she was in trouble, she managed to wriggle out of it with her looks.

Not this time. She was friends with Dr. Jonathan Crane, and that meant she wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. The second his virtual meeting was over, Bruce was heading towards Toxic Acres, and hopefully the wounded Crane would still be there to see Batman’s fist hit his –

Bruce snapped out of his thoughts at the buzz of his phone. A message from the BatComputer…?

I’m bored :/

Bruce blinked down at the screen. John had found the emergency messaging system. Of course he had. He was just grateful that the encryption software on his phone was still up to date. Just what else did John poke his nose into down there…? (There was the chance that John would see files he shouldn’t, but Bruce kept those under a thumbprint encryption. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.)

Stake-outs are usually pretty boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were down here tho! :)

Bruce hovered his thumb over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. The feeling was kind of mutual, if he was being honest; having another person around on a stakeout would at least keep his mind wandering into the worsts of what-ifs and double-checking every last security issue…

No movement on either houses btw. Been reading Crane’s docs in the meantime but it’s DREADFUL!!! I feel like I’m reading a sleeping pill… =_=

You finish your WE stuff yet?

Meeting’s not for another 20 minutes. Been looking up stuff on Crane’s “friend”.

Oh??? :o Do tell!!!!

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm.

Pamela Isley, former botanist w/ criminal rec., mostly extreme protest kind of stuff. Good chance she’s the head of a drug-ring that moved here a couple months ago; their leader goes by “Poison Ivy”.

They went to college together, but Pamela moved back here recently.

hMmMmm…. That means no burning the place down if we’re stuck! Bad fumes everywhere xP

Bruce focused on the word “we’re”. He hadn’t been planning on bringing John along. He wanted him safe, at home, where no one had a chance of seeing him and he wasn’t put in harm’s way…

Oh!!! You’ve got a bunch of sticky electro-shockers around - do you mind if I tinker with them? :3c pleeeeaaasssee?

What are you thinking of doing with them?

Making one BIIIIIG shock-bomb, of course! ;D I can wire them together so the shock spreads evenly in the space while it’s discharging.

Bruce reconsidered bringing John. He was still learning to curb his impulses, so being outside in a fighting environment would be a serious gamble, but... Maybe that could be their advantage, too. Bruce made a mental note to go dig out the spare bullet-proof vest from his closet’s secret panel.

You can do that?

I played around with making something like it before, but……well, you know.

Time + supplies for that project were low att. I figured I could always go back to it later anyway.

Bruce felt like his heart had deflated and swelled in such a short time that it hurt.

I mean I’m fine with throwing knives around too but I figured that would be less discrete ¯\_(ツ )_/¯

He’d been thinking of different methods of entering the “house”. Most of them featured a silent slip-in and as little combat as possible, but he knew that there would likely be some muscle around to stop any would-be intruders, and getting a quieter jump on them would certainly be helpful. He would certainly be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that John had thought that far ahead even back then.

If you think you can get it done within 1.5 hours, then yes.

Ha ha ha with these supplies I can get it done in like 40 mins! >:3 just you watch!!!

Btw have you seen the news?

Not yet. Why?

I was on the morning edition! At least they used a good pic ;D

But also saw a guy getting fished out of the harbor. Your handy-dandy invasion software said he’s a registered Ryde driver.

I told you not to fiddle with that.

Sorry, but I only used it the once! Promise!!!

Bruce sighed through his nostrils.

Besides I thought you’d want to know. Think Crane stole his ride and dumped him by the docks? :v

Probably. I can get the plate from up here to verify. DO NOT TOUCH THAT PROGRAM AGAIN.

Yes sir ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bruce wasn’t sure if that message was supposed to be flirtatious or mocking.

The incoming call from Iman Avesta stopped him from responding. He figured it had to do with John’s escape and the extra security added at Wayne Tower this morning, but why was she calling him now, rather than several hours ago?

“Iman?”

“Hey, Bruce. Hold on a sec – there we go, now we can both -”

“Bruce, what the fuck?” Tiffany asked over the line. “Are you at home right now?”

Bruce almost sighed at the attitude. “Yes, Tiffany, I’m at home, in my office.”

“Uh-huh. I keep getting alerts that your basement’s messaging system is being used. Care to explain that?”

Oh. Of course. He’d forgotten Tiffany had linked her phone to that, too. It’d just…been too long, he supposed. (She couldn’t read them, though, could she? He was fairly sure it didn’t give out mass-texts unless prompted.) “…where are you right now?”

Iman responded instead. “We’re in your second office.”

“…the line’s secure?”

“Of course.” Iman paused, and Bruce knew his new CSO was choosing her words carefully. “I’m guessing you have John Doe in the Batcave?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce, did you fucking break him out?” Tiffany asked with no shortness of impatience.

“I rescued him,” Bruce said firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to say, but listen:  I had no choice but to take him with me. One of the doctors working at Arkham has gone rogue – he’d been doing experiments on patients, and I have a feeling he’s going to continue them on civilians. I need to find him before then, and John has been helping me.”

“Helping…? You’re not bringing him in the field with you?” Tiffany said disbelievingly. “After that psychopath almost killed us?”

Bruce could still see Joker running at Tiffany, knife in hand, his psychotic breakdown in full force. He could still see him being smacked against the railing, sheer madness played over his long, bloody face as he desperately fought to stab what was his hero.

But John and Joker were as much the same as Bruce and Batman were, and they were constantly changing.

The Joker in the Batcave wasn’t the same one from Ace Chemicals.  

“I know what John did,” he answered, trying to breathe even as something wanted to hitch in his throat, “and I know how far he’s come since then. I know you both regret-”

“No, I’m not listening to this right now,” Tiffany scowled, her voice fading in the middle her sentence like she was leaving the room. “Talk some sense into him.”

Bruce heard Iman’s voice call after her, and then nothing for a beat.

Iman sighed. “I’ll talk to her. But Bruce,” she started seriously, “Tiffany isn’t the only one worrying about you. Six months can’t possibly cure everything wrong with a man whose spent his life in an asylum.” He could practically hear her chew over her phrasing. “I need to know… If John goes too far – if he shows signs of regressing…or just becoming more volatile – I need to know you’re going to put your foot down.”

“I’m more than capable of handling him, Iman.”

“Please, Bruce, I’d rather not have to pull you off another broken pipe lodged in your kidney.” She paused, and Bruce let her continue, feeling the scar in his side twinge at the painful memory. “I know you care a lot about him,” she resumed in a softer tone, “and I know you trust him. But if you doubt him at any time, you need you to step back and re-evaluate your choices. I don’t want him to regress back into the Joker.”

That was a different Joker, Bruce wanted to say. He knew that wouldn’t sound the way it should. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

“Good to know,” Iman replied, sounding somewhat relieved. “This doctor you’re hunting – is there anything we can do to help?”

Bruce shot a look at the clock in the corner of his monitor. He didn’t have as much time left as he would’ve liked before his virtual meeting started. “Tiffany can fill you in a bit, I had her help searching Arkham’s records before. Can you run a plate for me? I think Dr. Crane is running with a stolen car; I’ll send you the details in a bit.”

“Sure. We can check traffic cams for it, too, if you’d like.”

“If you would. And the second I have anything concrete on Dr. Crane, I’m sending Tiffany the details – I need her pull as Oracle to get the word out to the GCPD before anything happens. They’ll listen to their number-one informant more than a vigilante coming out of retirement.”

“…you’re…?”

He could almost see the shock in her face. They’d had a short discussion about his alter-ego when he decided to quit the first time; she’d been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It was almost as if she’d seen it coming.

“Are you sure?”

He was as sure. She didn’t know about the instincts broiling underneath his surface every day. She didn’t know he never really stopped being half of himself. She wouldn’t know or really understand that he just shoved it all down and aside like he did so much else just to get through things. “I don’t have any other options at this point.”

“…you know you can count on us if you need the help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Right. Well, in the meantime we’ll keep the fort over here running as smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

The line went silent, and Bruce pulled his phone away, catching a glimpse of three unread messages.

Sorry, buddy, I was just kidding around, you know? Ha ha

Bruce???

Hello???????

Sorry, had a phone call and couldn’t reply. It’s fine.

Seconds ticked by, and Bruce began changing out of his black t-shirt and into his button-down. It wouldn’t do to appear as a CEO in anything less than a proper suit. He could leave the jeans on, at least.

“Oh! Uh…sorry, Bruce…”

He felt his heart stop for a second. That was definitely John’s voice, even though it crackled slightly from the speakers. The monitor didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. John must have been using the spy-camera feature on the Batcomputer; it was linked to most the devices in the house, and Bruce’s webcam was no exception. He’d almost forgotten it had a loudspeaker function, too.

“I didn’t realize you were…um, changing.”

Bruce glared at the webcam’s lens. “John, what did I tell you about fiddling with the Batcomputer?”

“…sorry. I was worried when you didn’t answer me.”

He sounded genuine, at least. Bruce could easily picture him running upstairs to find him, if there wasn’t a chance he would’ve been seen. “I answered you a minute ago. I was on a call with Iman,” he stated plainly, fixing the buttons on his sleeves.

“…oh, ha ha, there it is! Uh, I guess I’ll just…go, then…”

Bruce almost questioned why John was sounding nervous and distracted, but it wasn’t until he saw the webcam light wink off again that he realized his shirt was wide open, the scars littering his torso half on display from the waist up.

Thankfully, no one was around to see Bruce bury his face in the palm of his hand for a moment, feeling like his face was on fire from first and second-hand embarrassment.

It didn’t last long. Bruce took a few deep breaths as he fixed himself up, and dialed into the meeting with a fixed expression of calm, firmly ignoring the heat that had settled in his stomach that threatened to go lower at the thought that John was bound not to forget any of that.

Driving the Batmobile in full gear again was certainly something else. Bruce felt the weight of the Kevlar body armor press against his limbs as he sped down Gotham’s twisting alley streets, no one any the wiser that the Wayne’s red sports car was hiding Batman behind it. The city’s CCTV signal was scrambled with the flick of a switch as he came into driving distance of the alley’s camera, making him almost untraceable.

He’d given the Honda Accord a head-start; it couldn’t go nearly as fast as the Batmobile, and Bruce had to find a spot to safely change before going to go pick John up from his drop-off point, and the post-working-hours traffic had already gotten its usual early start. It was a slower drive than he’d like it to be, even with Bruce’s shortcuts.

The setting sun was completely obscured by a dark overcast. It made the orange streetlamps glowing over the decorations sitting here and there in windows and doors even more energetic, like every corner of Gotham was slowly growing with the energy of Halloween.

Bruce clicked the communicator in his cowl. “John, are you there yet?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then a rustling noise. “Sorry, I had to take this off for a bit. What?”

“Are you there yet?”

John giggled slightly. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. Just waiting on you, pal.”

He was already at the meeting point? How did he get there so fast? “You put everything back where it was supposed to be?”

“No, I stripped the seats and threw everything into the garbage,” John grumbled with dripping sarcasm. “Of course I did, it’d be rude not to put Jerry’s stuff back. What do you take me for?”

“…I’m just making sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“I didn’t.” There was a loud slurping noise, like the last of a liquid being sucked from a straw.

“John, where are you right now?”

“In the alley, waiting for you.”

“Did you make a stop?”

John giggled, a little louder, but not at all nervous. He was enjoying himself. “What can I say? Going out on the town with you like this makes me thirsty,” he said with a strange purr. “Besides, no one bats an eye at me when I look like this anyway.” He paused. “Well, no, I’ve gotten some eyes on me, but, uh, I think they’re more the appreciative type. I guess ZZ Top was kinda right about the sharp-dresser thing.”

Bruce felt his brows knit together. “You’ve always looked sharp,” he said truthfully, turning down a narrow alley.

“Yeah, but not thousand-dollar-suit sharp. There’s a difference! Plus I think this bullet-proof vest makes me look a little bulkier than I actually am.”

Bruce spotted him leaning against the graffiti-covered wall, a Burger Lord cup in one hand and a plastic orange bag in another. Just how much time did Bruce lose while he was changing?

John tossed the drink in the dumpster and practically jumped into the car, shoving the orange bag behind the driver seat and slamming the door shut as Bruce switched off the communicator. He took one look at Bruce’s questioning glower and gave a nervous sort of grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, there’s something in there for you, too.”

Bruce almost asked what, but decided that a lecture on keeping a low profile and not taking money from his house’s various hiding spots would have to wait. (Though he supposed whatever John got wasn’t expensive. He was quite frugal, and it wasn’t as if Bruce couldn’t afford to buy John whatever he wanted anyway.) He concentrated instead on heading down the twisting path towards Toxic Acres. At least the traffic over there was a hell of a lot lighter.

“Hey, when you drove me to the Batcave, did you go in fourth gear, or third?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just recalled putting his foot to the floor and keeping his eyes on the road, occasionally reaching over to check John’s pulse. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that; I concentrating more on driving as fast as possible.”

“Oh – so you didn’t know you could punch the shift down into third whenever you wanted? It was so fun! I can say I literally punched it out of the Batcave!” He laughed. “I’m guessing you can’t do that in this car?”

“…I’ve got paddle shifters.” They were starting to travel into the more deserted road leading into Toxic Acres. Bruce took a sharp turn onto the hill with the broken Do Not Enter sign, and checking that no one was behind him, flipped the switch to shift the car into armored plates and pressed the wheel-paddle for a lower gear.

They flew down the road with a whirring whine of the engine, John’s notorious excited laugh mixing with it, and Bruce allowed himself to smile a little at it, knowing his own little joyful thrill wouldn’t last very long.

John was soon tapping his fingers together in some kind of rhythm as they passed by more empty houses, Bruce moving a little slower to keep his eyes out for trouble. Sitting close to the river on the outskirts of the city, they were originally meant to be a long neighborhood for the middle and upper class to build their lives, but as the unemployment and crime rates rose, the place became abandoned. It didn’t help that the piping structure to carry water there had been faulty, making either lead poisoning or unfiltered dirty water a prominent problem and giving the section of Gotham its nickname.

“How do we know which place is the botanist’s?” John asked, his green eyes scouring the houses in front of them.

“I sent out another drone earlier for some aerial shots. There’s a place with camouflaged green-houses in the back on Aster Place.”

“Wow, you did that before I left? That was fast…”

“It was a quick job. I’m not picking up the other drone until later.”

They turned the corner onto Aster Place; the road would dead-end in a while, but Bruce knew the house wouldn’t be situated at the end.

“Oh, there’s the spot Jackie got shot at!” John pointed ahead. “I wonder if there’s a bloodstain left…!”

Bruce tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re close.”

It was oddly quiet out there. There was no other sign of life in what was a hot-spot of criminal hide-outs. Bruce turned on the thermal vision in his cowl; a lot of the houses were actually empty for once.

Except for one. 1801 Aster Place. There were a group of people scattered around on the bottom floor and what appeared to be a lot of heat-lamps running on the top floor. If one of the people in the group wasn’t Pamela Isley, then she might have been holding up in the basement…

They left the Batmobile out of sight down the road, and Bruce and John moved swiftly behind the backs of the houses in the chilly night air, the taser bomb safely in John’s coat pocket; John was surprisingly quiet, only humming a familiar tune here and there. (Wasn’t it the theme from that old spy-thriller…?) Bruce managed to quiet him with a look, and John mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

Two unknown people were standing in what used to be a kitchen; three more people were up in the front room of the house. There were no security cameras to be seen.  

“Stick close to me,” Bruce whispered, the modifier in his cowl deepening his voice. “We go in through the back window, take out the two in the kitchen quietly and throw the bomb up front so we can cuff the lot. If none of them are Ms. Isley, we find the basement.”

John gave him a thumbs up, pulling out the riot baton he had hidden away. (Bruce had still not remembered when he or Alfred bought that, but vaguely remembered stashing it in the towel cupboard with some other emergency gear. He wasn’t surprised John found it.)

The bathroom window’s locks weren’t difficult to break. They looked like they had been broken several times already. Bruce slid the insect screen up and slipped in through the thin opening feet-first, twisting his limbs just right to softly land on the floor. He had to help pull John through the rest of the way after he smacked his head on the bottom of the window; thankfully he hadn’t made any noise, but he did give Bruce a strange look as brushed himself off where Bruce had gripped his sides.

Bruce didn’t have time to think about it.

The two people in the kitchen stood in semi-darkness, watching through the patio windows with rifles leaning against the wall. There wasn’t so much a bare bulb to give off light. Bruce figured their eyes might have adjusted to the dark, and signaled John to follow as he crept up behind the two goons.

“I dunno, with all the hype surrounding episode four, you just know those guys are going to mess up somewhere. Remember when they decided to let Celestyne drop to his death back in season one?” The one with dreadlocks asked.

“Oh, come on, that was just to test the game’s limits. Besides, Celestyne couldn’t die; I don’t think Jane can, either,” the second person responded in a higher voice with a casual shrug.

“Dude, you know the game’s gonna make her a villain in the end, though, right? She might die…”

Bruce was ready. John was gripping the baton with a widening grin…

“Are you kidding me? They have her affection meter up so high I’m surprised the game doesn’t have a dating opt-”

Bruce slammed dreadlocked goon’s head into the wall just as the baton crashed down on the other goon’s skull, little smears of blood marking the plaster and paint with a satisfying crack.

John clutched the collar of the goon he’d struck, gripping the slightly bloody baton a little harder in his other hand. He seemed to be thinking.

Bruce took a zip-tie out and cuffed the goon’s hands behind their back, and wondered just what John was staring at until he’d turned the person around and caught a glimpse of them in the light of the window.

They were both women with little tattoos of vines creeping along the back of their necks.

If Bruce guessed right, those were ivy leaves on the vine. Poison Ivy had a loyal gang.

John zip-tied the wrists of the woman he’d struck and patted the part of her head that wasn’t wounded. “Sorry,” he whispered as if she would hear it. “Lauren’s ex,” John mumbled, gesturing to the woman on the floor as if he knew Bruce had raised his eyebrow at him.

Bruce simply swept onward, spying the door for the basement. There was a light on in the front room, and three women who looked like they could be professional boxers of different weight categories were sitting in different areas. One was sharpening a knife at the table, and another was cleaning a semi-automatic rifle as the third kept watch over a monitor showing security camera footage; three looked to be by the greenhouses (Bruce recognized the Foxglove variety growing in one under an opening in the glass, sitting next to something that looked primeval), and two were watching over the plants upstairs (marijuana, by the looks of it) and in the basement.

There was a figure in the last screen, working over a row of potted plants with low lamps. A zoom-in with Bruce’s lenses showed long red hair.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, and John crept ahead him, the taser-bomb in hand: it looked like a mass of the sticky-bombs grouped together, colorful wiring connecting them all like some kind of net, and before Bruce could do or say anything, John threw it into the living room, where it tumbled into the middle of the floor.

The group began to shoot out of their seats in a second, and in the next the ball seemed to expand like a geometric toy, the wired tasers being thrown in the air with a flash before smacking people and surfaces alike as they discharged. All three people fell to the floor in trembling heaps, and John dashed out and started to cuff them, Bruce close behind.

The electric bombs were safe to touch now that they had fully discharged, so Bruce had no qualm about stomping on the lightly-burning sections of carpet underneath some of them to prevent any spread of fire as he pushed them aside. The bulkiest goon wasn’t quite down for the count; she was still conscious.

She yanked John off her fallen comrade by his shoulder and threw him into the table’s edge. Bruce threw a Batarang at her arm just as she was about to punch, and John gave a swift knee to her stomach as she flinched.

She fell to the floor with a louder crash and a grunt, pulling the Batarang out from her arm and letting it drop to the floor. “You fucker…” She said, glaring up at John before looking over at Bruce, her eyes widening as he approached with more Batarangs at the ready. “B-Batman…?”

“Yup! He’s real,” John said playfully before smacking the side of her head with the baton. “And so am I,” he added with a growl. He decided to tie her wrists behind the nearest table leg. “I hate not being able to call myself Joker like this… Really sells it better.”

Bruce felt his heart twitch at the name. “You can call yourself that, if it helps,” Bruce said gently, tying the monitoring-station woman’s wrists together, “Just not to people’s faces.”

“Kinda defeats the point,” John grumbled.

Bruce shot a look at the security monitor – Pamela Isley didn’t seem to have heard anything. Still, precaution should be used. “Let’s go,” he said plainly, sweeping out of the room with a swish of his cape.

John tucked a hand into his pocket and followed.

The basement stairs were carpeted and quiet, but Bruce was careful to walk on the outsides rather than the middle. Spiders had clearly made themselves right at home in the damp corners of the walls, and he had to duck to avoid getting the tips of his cowl’s ears stuck in one of their webs. A soft sort of click was heard behind his back, and Bruce figured John had gotten out his grappling gun.

Pamela Isley was bent over a row of exotic-looking orchids posed under heat lamps, dabbing something into the center of a blue orchid’s petals. Bruce saw several troughs full of hallucinogenic mushrooms sitting on the other side of the wall.

“There you go, my darling,” she cooed in a honeyed voice, acting like she was carefully painting the center of the flower, “You’ll soon be the belle of the ball…”

Bruce eyed the electrical box on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to drown the place in darkness; he’d be able to see, but John wouldn’t. The best bet was to tackle and restrain her.

Or…

Bruce took out his own grappling gun, and aimed it at Isley’s collar. One click, and it snagged her shirt with practiced ease.

“What the-?!”

Pamela Isley was suddenly dragged yelping through the air at an angle, smacking hard into one of the tables and spilling several unusual potted flowers to the floor.

Bruce grabbed her and threw her to the concrete floor, standing over her with several Batarangs in his hand as John cackled beside him.

“Jonathan Crane,” Bruce growled out, “Where is he?”

Pamela Isley sat up, shock written all over her face as she processed exactly what happened – it quickly morphed to a steely stare. “Batman,” she said slowly in a sweet voice, “I thought you were an urban legend,” she continued, wiping the corner of her mouth where a dribble of blood leaked out. “Do you always treat a lady this way?”

Bruce dragged her up by her collar and threw her against the wall, keeping her at arm’s length. “I know he bought plants from you today. Tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” She taunted, smirking widely at him. “You think I haven’t been knocked around by men before? I’ve been in whole worlds of hurt, honey.”

There was the distinct sound of the grappling wire rushing through the air, and then an enormous crash – John had taken out one of the mushroom tables, the fungi now breaking and bouncing against the floor it the scattered in the dirt.

“Whoopsie,” John hummed, a wide unnerving grin on his face, “butter-fingers.”

Isley looked rather taken aback, but the expression quickly warped into a mocking glare. “You think destroying my inventory is going to intimidate me?”

John shrugged, leaning back against a table and knocking over a several small tropical plants with a slide of his hand, shattering the clay pots and sending the plants scattering to the hard floor.

That definitely got her attention; her face paled slightly and there was tremble in her. “Stop that!”

Bruce glared at her, mentally thanking John for his quick thinking. “Tell me where Crane is and I’ll consider stopping him from tearing this place apart.”

Her dark green eyes glared at him with a slow-boiling dislike. “Let me go first.”

Bruce did a very quick once-over; she didn’t seem to have a gun holster on her, and she was definitely a lighter build than the rest of her gang. Knives were still a possibility. He decided to let go, keeping a Batarang between his fingers just in case as he stepped just out of her reach.

Pamela dusted off her green turtleneck. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. He bought a few of my flowers and left,” she said, crossing her arms.

John laughed, fingering the leaves of the blue orchid she’d been attending. “With a hole in his shoulder? You didn’t even offer a band-aid for that?”

Pamela was closely eyeing the plant in John’s hand. “What if I did?”

“I know he’s a friend of yours, Isley,” Bruce growled. “You’re the only one who could know what he’s planning.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she stated, “and I don’t care. I’m not his mother.”

“I can see why you were paying such close attention to this one,” John hummed, fingering the petals with a gloved hand. “It’s so pretty. You put a lot of effort into keeping all these, huh?” He grinned at her, almost looking like his usual self. “It’s not just some financial scheme for you, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Pamela stared at him, trying to keep her voice level; Bruce noticed her eyes kept flicking slightly downward, like she was watching the plant. “I breed and sell rare plants to collectors on the side.”

“Oh good! So this won’t bother you!”

In a swift move, John cut the blossom off the stem with the bowie knife one of the group upstairs had been sharpening.

The blossom fell to the table, and Pamela Isley looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

John picked up the blossom. “Let’s see – she’s honest,” he said playfully, plucking a petal from the stem, “she’s not!” He pulled another.

“STOP IT!” Pamela shrieked, making to rush at him – Bruce pulled her back and pointed the tip of the Batarang at her face. She glanced at it fearfully, but then looked back at the flower being torn apart in John’s hand, and it looked like she was watching a child die before her eyes.

“Stop that,” Bruce instructed; John hummed and held it still. “Talk, or my partner and I crush every plant in this place.”

Isley stared at the flower in John’s hand. “I… I don’t know what he’s planning,” she said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. John only touched the tip of a petal before she spoke again – “But-! But I know… He’s building something. He didn’t say what, but he asked for some muscle - I hooked him up with some of Maroni’s old boys.” She shut her eyes and took a breath before glaring at John like he was a complete monster. “I hope the lot of them tears you limb from limb.”

Bruce forced Isley’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them. “Down on the ground,” he growled, pushing down on the top of her head. John pointed the grappling gun in her face with a smirk; a good insurance if she decided to try and elbow Bruce in the face.

Pamela shot them both a hateful glare as she knelt down, and it didn’t waver as her ankles were tied, too. “I won’t forget this,” she spat.

Bruce sent off a message to Tiffany regarding the coordinates of “Poison Ivy”’s headquarters from his gauntlet. He knew she’d get the word out before he could even get back in the car. “Tell it to the judge,” he taunted, leading the way out of the basement, not missing the sparkle in John’s eyes as he followed, the severed, torn orchid blossom having been carelessly thrown at Pamela Isley’s feet.

John gathered up the sticky bomb device before they hustled back to the Batmobile, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that he spoke, and when he did it was in a tone Bruce would almost call revered.

“So, what do we do now, partner?” He asked, a definite glow on his face.

“We go look at some of the Maroni gang’s old haunts and see if we can find anyone recently hired,” Bruce said, the voice modifier in his cowl now disabled. He glanced at his recent text messages:  one from Tiffany giving the ok on Poison Ivy, and another from Iman with the last known location of the stolen Ryde car. “After we look into the motels in the red-light district. Crane might’ve stayed there.”

John laughed to himself, but for once he didn’t share the joke; instead, he pulled out a packet of jerky from the plastic bag he’d brought along. “I knew this would be a long night,” he said cheerfully, as if he was really looking forward to the whole thing.

It was well past one in the morning when Bruce arrived back home through the front gate, the Batsuit stowed away and the plates flipped back to red. The two patrol officers were only somewhat surprised to see him arrive back. Naturally, they reported nothing new, since John had been dropped off in the Batcave first.

Sore muscles were nothing new to Bruce. The old strained climb back up to his bed was just as annoying as ever. He honestly didn’t feel like he wanted to sleep, but after following several empty leads over the city and bruising a few heads alongside John, he did admit that he was physically exhausted. He knew lying down was better than nothing, and he still had to go to work in several hours like he didn’t have a double life. At least he wasn't starving, thanks to John thinking ahead and buying him protein-and-carb-filled snacks.

He forced himself to go through his usual nightly routine, despite the temptation to just flop into bed and lay there. He looked at the bruises on his back and ribs from where John had struggled against him under the influence of Crane’s drug, and decided not to bother putting the bruise-away cream on them, nor on the new ones forming on his shoulder from where one of the former mobsters had hit him.

When he did finally collapse onto the master bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his brain still decided to chat away at him.

There were no leads as to who exactly Isley had hired for Crane. Bruce cursed himself for not trying to work the specifics out of her. At least he knew she was arrested for drug possession and manufacturing, as well as smuggling illegal fauna.

There was no word on the whereabouts of Jackie Lant. Her car was missing, and she’d called into work sick. Her apartment hadn’t been visited in the entire time Bruce had his drone’s eye on it, and neither Tiffany nor Iman had seen anything when they looked into Jackie’s friends’ places, either. All Bruce knew was that she hadn’t called an ambulance to fetch her from Toxic Acres, that she hadn’t been admitted to a hospital, and that there was no sign of her body either in the Acres or in the Gotham River.

She was alive, somewhere, and Bruce didn’t know what she was going to do next. He hoped she was just going to lie low until he caught Crane.

Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. His house was still empty. He didn’t seem to be staying at any of the motels – or hotels – around the red-light district or its surrounding streets, and nothing had come of a quick credit-card check. The Ryde driver the GCPD fished out of the River that morning had been shot in the head, and his car was so common that if Crane could’ve switched the license plate with anything and been completely invisible. They’d done a quick search of the warehouse district and found no sign of him there, either.

Bruce had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t going to find Crane until the doctor reared his head.

The billionaire rolled onto his stomach, shoving the anxious thought away as he pressed his cheek further into the plush black jersey pillowcase. There were a couple more places he could check tomorrow…

The bedroom door creaked, and Bruce’s eyes shot open, a second away from grabbing the billy-club under his pillow – he could see John’s messy hair in his dark silhouette.

“Bruce? You awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“…can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bruce noticed he closed the door behind him. Like he was planning to stay there.

That definitely put a new light onto the situation. A tense thrill was building in his shoulders as John deigned to sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Bruce.

John was only wearing his Arkham-regulated pants, and the pale white of his bare skin almost shone in the light streaming in from the window. Bruce saw several bruises forming, one of which was from where he’d gotten grabbed by the shoulder by a Poison Ivy goon, and several more where he’d gotten knocked into.

“…I don’t think I can sleep in that guest room,” John sighed. “I mean, I tried my usual methods of sleep induction, but… It’s too big…and empty. I’m really not used to that.” His voice came out quieter and more contemplative. “I know it’s weird, but do you mind if I sleep in here?” He asked, turning halfway to look right at Bruce.

He felt trapped. If he said no, at the worst John would sulk, and at the best John wouldn’t get any sleep, and that was definitely worse for his mental health. John had mentioned before about how regular sleep cycles were supposed to help with that.

If he said yes, though, he’d know he was sleeping next to John, and there was the tiny worry in the back of his head that John might…try something. Or at least roll over too much.

“I promise I’ll stay over on my side,” John muttered, not tearing his eyes away.

“Alright.”

A sweet smile stretched on his face. “Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret this.”

“If you keep talking, I might.”

John giggled as he slid beneath the covers on the far side of the bed, flopping one of the extra pillows down between them. “There – a no-roll barrier,” he said as if he had to explain the concept to Bruce.

It did not escape Bruce’s attention that John had decided to lie facing him and rest his arm on top of the pillow. John had pulled the covers up to just underneath his armpits; Bruce could see John's sharp collarbone and the lean wiry muscle of his chest. (Bruce made sure not to look for more than a moment's curiosity would allow.)

God, John’s face was actually his for the first time that whole night. Bruce had gotten used to seeing it in the natural makeup, but it was almost a relief to see it in its normal borderline-luminescent white. He looked like the man Bruce knew.

Acid-green eyes stared at him, flicking slightly and growing soft. “I…did want to talk to you about something, though. If it’s okay.”

“I suppose I’m still awake,” Bruce said in an attempt to lighten the tension in his arms. “Sure.”

“Do you ever…look back on something, and think about the worst thing that could’ve happened in that situation?”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he had. Usually in his worst moods, he’d think about how everything could’ve gone wrong. He’d usually think about everything he could’ve done better, too. “I try not to, but…sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about our fight a lot, lately,” John confessed, “At Ace. I used to think about it a lot when I got recommitted, but… You started visiting me,” he said softly, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You remember when I told you I thought I’d messed things up for us?”

“Yeah.” It was Bruce’s first visit to John. He never forgot the sheer hopeful joy on John’s face upon seeing him. It was practically engraved in his memory.

“Ever since I started sessions with Crane, I kept going back to that night. He always tried to weasel my worst secrets out of me,” he said with a low scowl, “but when he started using that…toxin on me… I kept…thinking about what could have happened back there. I… I know I almost killed you.”

The sheer pain reading in John’s eyes was enough to make Bruce want to wrap his arms around him. It was beautiful and raw and honest, and Bruce found himself holding stock still, almost captivated by the expression.

“I kept seeing it. Over and over – it was like I could see myself throwing you over the railing or-or stabbing you, or...” Bruce saw tears welling up as John clenched the pillow between them. “I don’t want to come close to that again, Bruce,” he managed to say, his voice starting to hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to kill you.”

Bruce threw his pride away and grabbed John’s hand in his. “You won’t.”

“You…you don’t know that,” John said with a light sob. “If…if I…go back to how I was… If I mess up...”

Bruce squeezed his hand, feeling the soft skin twitch under his fingertips. “I won’t pretend you’re perfect,” he said, honesty seeping through every word, “but I know you, John. I know you’re not going after Crane out of revenge, like you did with Waller. You reached out to me for help – but you were already trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to just stabbing him with the nearest shiv.”

John sniffed, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was almost smiling. “Yeah…”

“So you’re not the same person you were then, are you?” He soothed with a supportive smile. “Even if you feel you are going backward, I know it won’t be to that same point.”

“Maybe…” he said with another sniff, looking more serious. “But Bruce, you know there are things I can’t ever really stop, right? The auditory psychosis is pretty much going to stay with me the rest of my life,” he started, clutching Bruce’s hand back, “and I’m not going to lie here and pretend my pulse wasn’t pounding a mile a minute when we were fighting those mobsters out there.” He sported a small knowing grin at him. “You know what that’s like, though, don’t you…”

(Yes, he did.)

“…you know what’s funny? I used to think one bad day could turn a person completely upside down.” John managed to stroke his thumb against Bruce’s knuckle, sending a little shiver over the skin, and Bruce wondered if John knew how incredibly intimate that gesture felt as he stared softly at him from the pillow. “Especially after Waller came to town… But…I never really thought things could go back up after it. I guess it just…takes a while.”

Bruce knew there was something right in John’s line of thinking. It only took one day to turn his life on its head, and he felt he knew, despite John having no memory of his life before Arkham, that something similar had happened to him. “Well…they say time heals all wounds.”

“How much passed before yours started to heal?”

He almost didn’t want to answer. The truth was that he wasn’t sure at all if he was ever going to fully heal, despite knowing what his parent’s really were. Maybe it was because he knew the terrible truth about them that they wouldn’t ever heal right. Maybe he’d always have that miserable note in the background of his life.

“…I’m still healing.”

“I didn’t say you stopped, buddy,” John chuckled with a knowing look. “Still…got good days and bad days, huh?”

“Feels like it, yeah.” Today…was definitely more of a mixed day. Looking at John across from him, though, all honest and open, and thinking back to how it felt to fight alongside him again, and investigate with him, with that warmth and instant familiar comfort between that never faded away, he almost felt like he wanted to call it a good day. “Today might have tilted things right-side up.”

John laughed, a genuine, humored one that was almost infectious. “Now I know I’m rubbing off on you; that sounds like something I’d say!”

John slipped his hand away and turned to lie on his back, still chuckling to himself. The warmth still burned in Bruce’s palm, and he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away at all.

John turned to him once more, an all-too-familiar affection shimmering brightly in the green depths. It pulled Bruce in and made him feel like he should inch close enough to feel the warmth and security it promised. “’Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John turned over, leaving Bruce to stare at the bruises forming on his shoulders. There was the terrible temptation in his hands to shove the pillow between them aside and wrap his arm around the man’s middle so he could lean into that pale, battered back and bury his face in a head of soft, green hair.

There was a worse urge, one so vivid it almost made Bruce’s head spin – he could just reach out and touch the bruises, feather-light, and trail his fingertips down the curve of spine until it arched with a pleased shudder, and Bruce could follow that trail with his mouth as far as John would let him.

Bruce turned his head away, the memory of John’s lips on his coming to the front of his mind, and he shut out the mental image of repeating that kiss right then and there, telling himself that he really shouldn’t feel that way towards someone who desperately needed support, nor to his best friend who he’d left scarred in more ways than one, and certainly not someone who was both.

It had been a long time since Bruce shared a bed with someone, and far, far longer when he shared one with someone he didn’t have sex with.

He hoped that was all it was. Just the bed’s memory getting to him, and nothing else…

Notes:  Super-sexy-plant-person-in-her-late-twenties Ivy is OUT. Cougar-aged-mobster-botanist Ivy is IN! >:) 

I really wanted a different Ivy. I’m tired of the young, uber-sexy walking plant-human-hybrid that’s immune to all toxins and diseases; plants get diseases, too, and she’s so plant-like she should have some kind of physical humanizing weakness! It’s much more interesting to have a human who’s just built up an immunity and uses her babies for weapons and business; I kept her serious environmentalist trait, though, because while I dislike the anti-hero thing she’s got going on lately and would love to see her as a straight-up villain again, we do have to relate to her somehow, and her love of nature is always going to be a good part of her. Since Harley’s older, too, I figured it would be alright if they had a ten-year gap between them, so when Pam eventually goes to Black Gate one day, they’ll be pals. ;)

And Bruce you complete fool!!!! You should’ve kissed him!!!  Why do you do this to yourseellllfff? D:

I'm sorry it took so long, but as you can tell, I had a lot to work on, and I’m doing my best to write the next chapter as quickly as I can while this nutty energy in my brain is still fresh. I’m trying to keep with my weekly schedule, but I hope you guys are okay with having a gap day, as appears to be the habit now. ( ._. ) I mean, no one yells at me or anything for being late, but I aim to please with my work, and part of that is being consistent. 

I shall continue to try my hardest! (*｀へ´*) 彡3 See you next weekend!!!

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #fordarkisthesuede writes #I had a lot of fun coming up with a different ivy! #i like the idea that she heads her own gang despite being rather anti-people #like she doesn't even consider them when the JUCE force shows up #then again goons are rather expendable in the batman universes aren't they? #i can't believe i worked in a nod to TFS's playthroughs of TT bats #i still laugh when i rewatch the first season and they just let Selina drop #all because they were curious to see what would happen #so will ivy's info have an impact on future events? #only time will tell......... #also i'm serious about those writer vibes #i'm sending 'em all out #you'll all do great this week i can feel it #p.s. the ao3 chapters are already edited properly so i'll fix the tumblr ones asap

[and-it-freezes-me]

Here We Are

Summary: Logan has always prided himself on being a good student. If only everything weren’t so tiring...

Or

Rather than continuing any of my ongoing projects, I spend all the time in which I am not either studying or burnt out from studying, writing about someone else being burnt out from studying.

Words: 7,589

The soft chimes that marked the end of Logan’s timer rang quietly through the room, and he put his pen down.

Test over.

He didn’t need to check the time, but he did it anyway: fourteen-thirty. Half past two. He now had fifteen minutes to submit his transcript, and practice from the previous year meant he knew he could do it in eight. Well, eight minutes and twelve seconds, to be exact - and it was always important to be exact.

It took one minute and thirty-four seconds to walk from his small room to the dorm’s printers on the second floor, providing he didn’t stop to talk to anybody.

That would count as collusion, and although the online nature of his exams meant that nobody would know he had broken the rules but him, Logan had the exam honour code to uphold. Cheating did not come easily to him.

The eight sheets of paper, covered front and back with his neat, navy-blue scrawl, would take a couple of minutes to scan - this was always the least predictable part of the process, thanks to the ancient machines in the small room. When was the last time a professional had done maintenance on one of these things, rather than a harried engineering student at three in the morning?

One minute forty-two seconds to get back to his room - the flights of stairs on the way back added up. Logan knew he could bring his laptop down to the copier room with him, submit the papers as soon as they were digitised, but he never did. That felt messier, somehow, incomplete.

Thirty-eight seconds to log back into his laptop and upload the scanned exam questions to the submission page.

And then he was finished.

Logan stared blankly at the green checkmark on the screen.

Now what?

Well, he knew ‘now what’, really.

Now what was studying for the last of his exams, a week from tomorrow.

Now what was finishing up the work he had been unable to submit before his exams.

Now what was working on his practical knowledge, ready for his internship over the summer holidays.

Now what was more revision, all the things he had learned this year that would be useful for next year.

Now what was exhausting.

Resting his head in his hands, Logan pushed his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes.

Exhausting… Was that really the right word? He was tired, yes, but no more so than was usual by now. He had been getting a steady eight and a half hours of sleep every night for the last few months, always between the hours of eleven and seven-thirty - a healthy sleep schedule, and one he prided himself on maintaining.

He couldn’t even claim that he had exhausted himself revising in the runup to his exams: every time he had sat down to work, he had found his attention wandering. Logan hadn’t timed it, not wanting to be constantly even more aware of how lazy he was being, but he was certain that for every hour he had been sat at his desk over the last few weeks less than half of that time had been spent revising.

He would start working through his notes, trying to consolidate information, make flashcards, and attempt past paper questions - and fifteen minutes later he would find himself mindlessly solving a sudoku, scrolling endlessly through the recommended page on Instagram, opening his texts repeatedly to see if any of his loved ones had messaged him in the short time his phone had been silenced. He would begin writing up a more concise lab report from the winter term, and suddenly it would be essential that he googled star-nosed moles or re-read an article about the lives of sequoia trees.

How could he be so exhausted when he had barely done any work?

If he took a nap now, Logan knew it would likely disrupt his bedtime later, but getting into bed was the only thing that seemed even remotely manageable just then. He highly doubted he would be able to fall asleep: even with the curtains closed, his small dorm room wasn’t exactly dark, and he could hear muffled conversations from the room below and the one to his left. Then there were the footsteps in the hall outside, likely belonging to one of the students he lived with. They were friends, he guessed, but that didn’t mean that the compulsory small-talk whenever he passed somebody in the corridor wasn’t exhausting.

There was that word again. Exhausting…

Logan closed the lid of his laptop.

He should read for a while.

He enjoyed reading. He loved it. Back home (only three and a half hours by car, only milliseconds by phonecall, and still so far away that he felt as though he were drifting through space in his own private shuttle), the stack of books by his bed was fifteen-deep: murder mysteries he had yet to sink his figurative teeth into, sci-fi novels of which he had yet to crack the spine, high fantasy that he couldn’t wait to read.

At home, he could go through a book in a matter of days - hours, even, if he didn’t have anything else to do that day.

He hadn’t read more than a few chapters since the start of term, weeks and weeks ago.

Logically, it was a calm, gently stimulating activity that shouldn’t take too much energy.

That was what he would do: he would make a cup of coffee (decaf, of course), he would sit at the end of his bed with a cushion between his back and the wall, and he would read for an hour or two before going to do something about dinner.

If Logan waited by his door for a few seconds to ensure he couldn’t hear anybody in the hallway outside, it was his business.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, Logan unlocked his kitchen cupboard and pulled his mug from the bottom shelf.

He had two mugs: his favourite navy blue with ursa major picked out in white on one side and ursa minor on the other, and the other a freebie from a jellybean company that his parents insisted he bring in case he ever needed to make tea for a guest. The jellybean mug held all of his cutlery.

Coffee he kept on the second shelf up, along with tea bags, sugar, flour, cereal, and jam; he dumped two heaped spoonfuls of coffee granules into the bottom of his mug and then pulled his phone from his pocket.

No new messages.

Well, that wasn’t quite true: there was the usual chatter from his subject group chat, as well as murmurings from the astrology club Discord and a couple of emails about theatre opportunities he didn’t have the time or energy to pursue, and trips he didn’t want to go on. There were no new messages from the people he loved.

He could try sending someone a message, of course - a simple Hello, how are you doing? or even just a picture of the statue in the middle of the courtyard outside the kitchen window, captioned with a mundane comment about the weather.

But it was the middle of the afternoon.

His parents would be at work.

His younger brothers would be at school.

His friends would be studying or doing exams or something.

Besides, how would a conversation even go? Logan definitely didn’t think he had the energy to manage an entire phone call on the off chance somebody was free, which meant texts, which meant…

Him: Hello, how are you doing?

Friend/brother/parent: I am well. Here is a picture of the incredible thing I have done recently. How are you?

Him: I am also well, but quite tired. I have just completed my penultimate exam. I think it went well.

The last part was a lie, but only just. Logan had no idea how the exam had gone. He had sat down, answered the questions to what he hoped was the best of his ability, and submitted it. Some of them had gone well. Some of them he had struggled with. In short, the exam had just… Happened.

Just like everything else in his life at the moment. 

It was all just things, happening one after another.

Friend/brother/parent: Well done. Make sure you get some sleep in between revising. Good luck with your final exam!

Him: Thank you.

Then there would be that awkward moment, where they could both see that the other was still online but neither knew what to say.

Then he would put his phone back in his pocket, feeling even more alone than he had before.

Logan wasn’t good at telling people how he felt. It was much easier to simply offer his father a hug and have it be understood that he needed the comfort. It was easier to lie on the floor and have his brother sit on him, or lie next to him, and eventually move to a couch where they could watch television together. It was easier to sit with a friend and listen to them talk about… Well, anything, chiming in with the occasional question or fact but generally happy to listen and feel appreciated.

The light on the kettle clicked off.

Logan filled his galaxy mug with boiling water and carried his coffee back to his room.

There was a neatly folded wad of scratched-out workings that he used in lieu of a coaster on his bedside table, and he lined up his mug carefully with the beige ring already staining it. Toeing off his shoes, Logan sat on his bed and swung his legs onto the mattress. His pillow he placed behind him, so he could lean comfortably against the wall at the head of his bed.

After a second, he got up again to close the blind and flick his bedside lamp on. The sudden change between cool daylight and the warm electric glow was almost startling - for a moment, Logan considered opening the blinds again, knowing that he was risking throwing his carefully maintained bodyclock out of whack… And pushed the idea away. He was tired all the time anyway - a few hours like this wouldn’t hurt.

His book sat on the table by his elbow.

It had been a birthday present from his brother, and he was determined to finish it before he went home at the end of term so he could tell him what he thought. That should be an easy task - with ten week terms, and a week on either side to wind up and destress afterward, Logan had more than enough time to read a mere two hundred pages.

But now it was week eight, and he was going home in three weeks time, and he was barely more than a chapter through.

Well, there was no time like the present.

He reached out… And picked up his mug.

A few mouthfuls of coffee, and then he’d get started.

“Son of a bi- ow.” Logan returned his mug to the bedside table. A droplet of coffee slid down the navy blue clay and soaked into the already stained notes beneath it. “Note to self, let coffee cool down first. Ow.”

Reading first it was, then. 

Logan picked up his book and stared at the cover.

It was a nice cover. He wasn’t one to fall victim to judging books by their bindings, but this one would have caught his eye had he been walking past it in a shop window. The silhouette of a tree was picked out in gold foil against a teal background, a child’s figure curled beneath it. Logan had even heard of the book: it was fairly well recommended… And one he had concluded he had no particular interest in reading.

Logan liked to think he was fairly open in his reading choices. Yes, he preferred anything fantastical, set in far away places that he could use to dream himself out of his own skin - or even tales set in a world very similar to his own, but with a few notable differences. Secret magic, for example, or vampires, or rapid advances in technology of one sort or another many years before breakthroughs had really been made. But he didn’t limit himself: some of his favourite books were set in the real world, turning the mundane into something almost magical in itself.  Stories about siblings, about friendship, about growing up and finding yourself and becoming comfortable in your own skin. He wasn’t even opposed to the occasional romance, if it was well-written and the characters developed enough to keep his interest. (He had even forced himself to struggle through the entire Fifty Shades series, determined to find out what the hype had been about. It had been… Disappointing, to say the least).

The books Logan didn’t like reading were the critically acclaimed tear-jerkers. The books designed to make a point about the human condition, the books designed to dwell on the subtleties of the human soul with no alien species to take most of the metaphor, the books designed to sieve through emotions and relationships with no clear goal or purpose. The sort of books that had reviews like “deeply moving” or “bittersweet” or, god forbid, “will touch your heart and leave you better understanding yourself”.

Maybe it was because he always found them needlessly morose.

Maybe it was because they never made him feel as much as the reviews promised.

Maybe it was because he could never quite understand the choices the characters made, their reactions, or why people raved about the way their deepest feelings had been so beautifully expressed.

Trying to figure out what was so special about those stories was exhausting in itself - the fact that their subject matter usually left him dejected (even if he didn’t feel particularly in contact with his inner self) was even more so.

And, if he was going to be honest with himself, his lack of response to “the most stunningly crafted explorations of the soul” always made him feel a little… Broken.

In short, he knew that this book was going to leave him figuratively wrung out. Even making his way through the few pages he had managed so far this term had left him emotionally drained - something probably exacerbated by the fact that he knew exactly what sort of book he was reading and how he was supposed to react to it.

Taking another deep breath, Logan flipped the pages until he found his bookmark. It would get better when he got properly into the story, he told himself - he hadn't given the book a fair chance yet.

He stared at the words on the page for a solid minute before realising that he hadn't taken in a single one. 

He wasn't even trying.

What was wrong with him?

It shouldn’t be so hard to find the willpower to read a single book. It wasn’t even that long, compared to some of the other novels he had raced through. Just because it was stressing him out a little didn’t mean he should be having so much trouble with it. Once he had finished it, he could start the other book he had brought with him, one that looked like a space-faring take on Aurthurian legend and something he was really looking forward to reading.

Of course, he could just read that instead. But if he kept putting off reading the book he was currently reading, he’d never get through it - and it had been a present. It would be rude not to read it.

Logan sighed.

He closed the book and put it back on his bedside table.

It tugged at his conscience.

He closed his eyes. Carefully, he removed his glasses and folded them up, placing them on the table beside him without looking, and pressed his face into his hands.

The book pulled at the corners of his mind.

“Tomorrow,” he told it. “Tomorrow. Or the day after. When I have more energy.”

He wasn’t going to give up on it - he would just put it off a little. There was no harm in taking a break, right? (Never mind the fact that taking a break seemed to be all he could do anymore. Never mind the fact that he never seemed to have the energy to do anything more than was absolutely necessary).

He should at least drink his coffee. If he didn’t, it would just go cold, and making it would have been a complete waste of time.

Instead, Logan slipped under his duvet and pulled his pillow down with him before reaching over and flicking off the lamp.

-

He might not have been asleep when his phone next sang out, but he had certainly been enjoying the peace that came with being wrapped in blankets and temporarily isolated from the world.

Fumbling for his glasses, Logan slipped them back on before reaching out to turn off the alarm. It was almost seven - it didn’t feel as though he had curled up here for nearly four hours. Perhaps he had been dozing.

It was his daily alarm to stop working and make dinner for himself - not that he had still been working at this time for more than a handful of days over the last few months.

He wasn’t particularly hungry.

Or maybe he was hungry, but not enough to justify the effort it would take to extract him from the ball of warmth in which he had cocooned himself, face conversation with any of his floor-mates that happened to wander in while he was cooking, and go through the long process of chopping and frying or boiling and then washing up for a meal that would take a fraction of the time to eat.

It was strange. Logan usually enjoyed cooking, but lately it had all just seemed so… Pointless.

Especially when he wasn’t particularly hungry.

When he checked his phone again, it was past eight. Where had the hour gone? He really should get up now. If he let himself skip dinner, he’d end up letting himself get into the habit of skipping meals again - and he should avoid allowing that to happen.

Ensuring that he ate enough was healthy. He wasn’t about to allow himself to slip into bad habits, especially not when he was supposed to be an adult and looking after himself. It wasn’t even as though he had an excuse for letting himself get to that point. There was nothing wrong with him.

Inhaling slowly, Logan pushed the covers down toward the end of the bed and swung his legs onto the floor. The rush of cool air made him shiver, but he made himself slip his shoes on and make his way toward the door of his bedroom rather than climbing straight back into bed like he wanted.

There was nobody in the kitchen when he got there.

Logan stood in place for a few seconds, adjusting his glasses - they were crooked, he should have taken them off before returning to his dozing state - and trying to figure out what to cook. Nothing too complicated: he didn’t have the energy to make anything complicated. On the other hand, there was no satisfaction to be gained from making something really simple, and days when he felt like this were supposed to be the ones where he needed to put in the extra effort so that he could feel good about himself.

That was what everything he read online said, anyway. How self-care wasn’t always taking it easy and lying in and ordering dinner; how the things that would help him feel better would probably feel hard to do at first.

But that only brought him back to the first  hand: he had been putting in the effort to cook and eat well and exercise and sleep at reasonable times for weeks now, and none of that was doing anything to get rid of the empty feeling that pushed against the inside of his throat and the tips of his fingers and the backs of his eyes.

Maybe he still had some marinara sauce in a jar somewhere. He could chop some spring onion or something, to make himself feel as though he had actually done something toward his dinner, then just mix the tomato sauce into a bowl of spaghetti and grate some cheese on top of it. That wasn’t so difficult.

It wasn’t until Logan opened a cupboard and tried to find the right jar that he realised that everything was slightly blurry.

Weird.

His glasses were definitely on his face: he had adjusted them when he had walked into the kitchen, and could feel their weight on his nose. Maybe they were smudged?

Then the fingertips of the hand absently rising to adjust his glasses once more met his cheek and came away damp, and Logan realised he was crying.

That was… Inconvenient.

And somewhat stupid, really. What did he have to cry about? He had just been in bed for four hours, and now he was going to eat and then go back to bed, possibly watching something on YouTube or Netflix in the time between eating and falling asleep. And what if one of his floor-mates came in and found him crying into the spaghetti he was trying to make?

At least he wouldn’t have to add salt to the water.

The thought made him chuckle a little, but did nothing to stop the tears trickling down his cheeks.

Okay, he could stop now. There was nothing wrong, he was just going to cause a scene he couldn’t satisfactorily explain…

But he couldn’t stop.

In fact, the more he tried to stop himself - first by focusing on breathing evenly, then by pressing his fingertips against his closed eyes as though to plug his tear ducts, then by holding his breath for as long as he could, and finally by pinching the skin on the inside of one elbow until he left little crescent moons in the dark flesh - the harder he cried.

Okay. Okay, fine. Whatever. He could cook like this. He just had to do it quickly.

The jar of marinara was about half full - more than enough - and he refilled the kettle and flicked it on before turning toward a different cupboard to find a saucepan. 

When he went to chop one of the slightly pathetic-looking spring onions, Logan realised his hands were trembling.

How long did spaghetti take to cook? Logan dropped a handful haphazardly in the saucepan and reached for his phone to check, only to discover that he had left it in his room. Well, that was okay. He could just fish some out with a fork every now and then to test it. No biggie. Now, if only he could breathe through his nose… Since he had given up attempting to stop crying, Logan’s breathing had become more ragged. Not unbearably so, but enough to be inconvenient.

He already knew that he wouldn’t find any tissues in the kitchen, but he glanced around anyway before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. Who really cared? He was the one that would have to wear the jumper, and he was the one that would have to wash it. Besides, it wasn’t as though there was anybody around to see his lapse in manners.

It probably wasn’t worth going back to his room to get his phone. What would he do on it? Just get trapped in another spiral of scrolling through memes that weren’t funny or advice for people with conditions he didn’t have no matter how familiar some of the symptom lists felt. The more time he spent wandering around in the corridors meant the higher the chance of somebody seeing him like this was, too.

Fully aware of how concerning it would look if someone were to walk in and see him, and entirely without the energy to care, Logan sat down in the middle of the floor and waited for his pasta to boil.

How much more pathetic could he get? Bawling his eyes out in the middle of the kitchen and equally as unable to calm down as he was to explain why he was crying. Obviously, he was hoping somebody would come in, see him, and make a fuss over him. He couldn’t come up with any other reason - but the idea of someone finding him like this, of seeing him in such a mess and suddenly having reason to worry about him, to treat him differently, made his chest feel tight.

Logan hiccupped - and suddenly he was gasping for breath through his tears.

This was ridiculous! He was fine. Nobody was hurt, nobody was dying, the test hadn’t even gone that badly; he was just tired, he was just so tired, but that wasn’t a reason to be breaking down like this.

He was still crying when the stove started hissing, and he stood to find his pasta was overboiling. Removing the lid to let it settle down, he fished a strand out with the end of his fork and found it cooked. Even with his blurred vision and shaking hands, mixing in sauce and then grating cheese on top of it wasn’t too difficult a task, and when he transferred the whole thing to his bowl (something he should have done before adding cheese but had forgotten) only a little bit went on the surface. He wiped it up automatically.

When he went to pick up his bowl, he found it too hot to comfortably carry with his bare hands. Logan stared at the fuzzy shape for the count of ten before tugging the cuffs of his sleeves over his hands and cupping the bowl between them. The material was just thick enough that he could carry it without hurting his palms, though he would have to put it down to open his bedroom door.

He was halfway there when somebody spoke behind him.

“Logan! How did your-”

But Logan had startled when he had been addressed and his bowl, piled high with pasta and sauce and cheese, had slipped from his sweater-pawed hands. It smashed at his feet, melty tomato goop splattering his socks and the wooden corridor floor, pasta flying everywhere.

Logan stared at the mess.

It felt as though his trachea was closing up.

What was wrong with him?

It wasn’t difficult to carry a bowl through to his room.

Why couldn’t he do that without fucking up?

Okay, okay, he could deal with this. This was fine.

Logan tried to force a deep breath into his lungs. When that didn’t work, he settled for the several slightly less ragged gasps he got instead.

There was a dustpan in the kitchen. He could scoop up everything large enough, and use paper towels to sc-

“Logan?”

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He flinched away from it.

“Sorry! Sorry, I should have asked. Oh, buddy - what’s wrong?”

It was Roman.

Well, said one corner of his mind, at least it’s Roman. Roman’s your friend. It would have been worse if it had been someone else - imagine one of the others seeing you like this. You barely know most of them.

Oh, said another part of himself, if only it had been anyone but Roman. You’re just going to worry him - and he’ll start treating you like something fragile. There’s not even anything for you to be making a fuss over.

“Logan?” Roman’s voice was much more gentle this time.

Logan realised with a start that - other than flinching away from his friend (oh, god, why had he flinched away from his friend?) - he hadn’t moved since dropping his dinner. He wasn’t even sure he could recall how to move: given the difficulty he was having in remembering how to breathe properly, things didn’t look promising in the motor control department.

“I - I will - clean it up.” There - that was a mostly steady sentence. Okay, great. He could do this. The kitchen was behind him, which meant turning around, which meant lifting one leg and -

“How about you sit down, instead?” Roman was still speaking quietly, as though to a spooked animal.

Logan shook his head jerkily and took a few steps toward the kitchen. “Gotta - It’ll stain. The floor, it’ll stain the f- the floor, if I don’t -”

“I can clean it. Logan - Logan, please, slow down. You’re a mess - can you even see straight right now?” It sounded as though Roman had followed him back down the corridor. When Logan went to push open the kitchen door, he found that his hands were still shaking - hard enough now that he fumbled the handle on his first try. “You’ll just cut yourself on the bowl, Lo, please. Lo.”

“You sh-shouldn’t have to-” His throat closed up again and he gestured roughly at the corridor behind them. “I can do it.”

“I know.” Roman’s red converse passed his watery field of vision - Logan still hadn’t looked up, not wanting to see the pity in his friend’s face - and then the dorm’s yellow dustpan was being waved gently in front of his face. “Let me help, Lo. I’ll clean it up. Here - can you drink some of this?”

The bright yellow smear of the dustpan was replaced with something that took Logan a few seconds to place as Roman’s water bottle.

He hesitated, then nodded and took the bottle with a movement that he could only describe as robotic before following Roman’s red shoes back into the hallway.

His friend kept up a steady stream of quiet chatter as he cleaned, the words of which Logan didn’t quite catch over his unsteady, unstoppable sobs, but the tone of which was at least a little relaxing. When Roman went to empty the pasta and bowl fragments into the bin and replace the dustpan and brush with a cloth, Logan followed his shoes like a puppy on a leash. As they returned to the hallway for Roman to wipe up the last of the mess - even without being able to see clearly, Logan could tell that he had done a good job - he reminded Logan to drink something, and Logan obeyed this time.

Then Roman was returning to the kitchen, presumably to rinse off the cloth. Logan didn’t follow this time, toying with the idea of retreating into his room to avoid making his friend deal with him when he was in such a state (over nothing!). But that would just make Roman worry more, wouldn’t it? He’d probably start knocking on the door, and then Logan would have to choose between ignoring him (a massive dick move, and he’d probably call campus welfare on him just in case) and opening up to him anyway. Instead, he stayed where he was, both hands squeezing the cool plastic of the water bottle tightly enough that the blood was being pushed from his knuckles, until Roman’s shoes entered his field of vision again.

“Do you want to come sit down?”

Logan shrugged.

“Well, I’d assume you’d rather not stay out here, right?”

This time, Logan nodded.

“Okay. Come on.”

Roman’s room was the same size and shape as Logan’s, but decorated with significantly more flair. Pictures of him with various friends littered the walls - Logan knew he appeared in a significant portion of them, as did their friends Logan and Patton - and a massive bean bag took up almost a quarter of the available floor space. A tall stack of novels was on Roman’s desk, sticky-notes of every colour of the rainbow poking from between their pages at every angle. His bed was covered in a thick red blanket, but his duvet had been balled up and was spilling from the bottom of his wardrobe: clearly Roman was finding the summer too hot to sleep comfortably with it.

Logan was glancing around for the desk chair when he realised that Roman was gesturing for him to sit on the bed.

He sat.

Roman sat beside him, hands on his knees, red-painted nails picking at the material of his jeans.

What was he supposed to say?

Oh.

“Tha-”

“D’you- Sorry. You go.”

Logan shook his head. “I was ju- just saying thanks. F- For cleaning.”

“Don’t mention it.” Roman’s hand twitched toward him for a moment, then returned to his own leg. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ab- About the pasta?” Logan was so confused by the question that he momentarily forgot how difficult breathing evenly was - and was then even more surprised by the fact that it became slightly easier the moment he stopped trying to force himself to calm down.

“No, you spoon.” It was always surprising how much affection Roman managed to pour into his weird friend-insults. “About why you’re crying. You don’t have to. Or I can call Pat, if you prefer. Or Virge.”

Logan sniffed, balled his fist inside his sleeve, and rubbed at his eyes. When he pulled away, his glasses were very crooked, but he didn’t try to fix them.

“I d- I don’t know.” He cringed at the words. What sort of moron doesn’t know why they’re crying? Idiot. “I’m - just tired. Really tired. Th- That’s all.”

Roman was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to figure out why he was friends with such a moron. Then he nodded - Logan caught the moment in the corner of his vision. “Okay. Can I do anything to help?”

Logan was shaking his head before he had even thought it through. He refused to burden Roman any further than he already had.

But when he actually thought about it, his answer didn’t really change. What could Roman do, even if Logan didn’t feel as though asking for help would be asking for too much? It wasn’t as though he could make the day any longer, or the work Logan needed to do any less, or clear the suffocating, useless, worthless, futureless feeling that hung around him like fog. It wasn’t as though Roman could make him any less tired.

“Alright.”

Logan wiped his nose on his sleeve again. His throat felt raw. He wished he could just stop - stop crying, sure, but also just… Stop thinking. Check out for a while, check back in when life no longer took so much energy to just get through a few hours of the day.

“Here.” Logan accepted the box of tissues with a grateful sniffle, and Roman smiled encouragingly at him. “You weren’t planning on going back to work after eating, right?”

Chucking wetly, Logan shook his head. If Roman had any idea how little work he had actually been doing recently, he’d find his current state even more ridiculous. Logan was supposed to be good at work. That was how people saw him. That was who he wanted to be. That was how he was known. And if he lost that identity, who was he?

If Roman knew how much he was struggling to make himself do even the smallest worksheet, maybe he wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.

Roman continued, politely ignoring the way Logan’s renewed sobs were making his whole body shudder. “Good. That’s good. How about I order us some food, and we watch one of the early episodes of Merlin. Does that sound alright?”

Logan blew his nose loudly into a tissue, then dropped it into the wastepaper bin Roman offered him. “I d- if you ha - have things to do, I don’t-”

“I don’t.” Logan tried to raise an eyebrow at his friend, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the whole unstoppable crying problem. “I mean it, Lo. If you’d rather not, that’s also fine, but I want to… I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“I’m fine, I’m not gonna-” Logan started to protest, but Roman cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“First, that was the biggest lie I’ve ever heard and I’m an actor - and I didn’t mean it like that, Lo.” Logan opened his mouth again, and Roman rushed on. “And it’s not because I’d feel guilty, or anything like that. I mean, I would feel guilty if I just left you like this, but that’s not why I - Look, you’re my friend. I want you to feel alright, and if I can’t actually fix anything, I want to just be with you for a while. Okay?”

That should have made Logan feel a little better. That was clearly what Roman was hoping for. Instead, the ball of cold, damp misery in his stomach expanded further, pressing against his lungs and his ribcage. This time, Roman didn’t ignore the change in his breathing.

“Oh, no, Lo, I didn’t… Do you want a hug?”

Logan wanted to say no. He didn’t want to put more demands on this friend that he didn’t deserve - but his traitorous head nodded, and when Roman’s arms looped gently around his torso, his traitorous hands fisted tightly in the back of the man’s jumper.

Roman was really warm.

At first, his hands hovered awkwardly above Logan’s shoulders, but when Logan pressed his face into his shoulder he hugged him properly. “Hey… It’s okay, bud. I got you…” When one hand started rubbing slow, deep circles into his back, Logan gave up on trying to stop crying and let himself wail.

-

Roman let Logan cry into his shoulder until he finally hiccuped himself into something more or less resembling calm, despite the fact that Logan was almost certainly holding him too tightly and the fact that the shoulder of his shirt had long since become a tear- and snot-stained mess.

When Logan finally pulled away, throat sore, eyes red, head aching dully, Roman handed him the water bottle he had dropped earlier with a small smile. “You needed that, huh?”

“... Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Rolling his shoulders back, Roman got to his feet and made his way toward the wardrobe. “Do you want to grab my laptop and find Merlin on Netflix? I’ll order pizza.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Logan promised quietly. If he really stretched for it, he’d probably be able to reach Roman’s laptop on his desk from where he was sat - but given the bone-deep weariness that had come over him, he’d probably just drop it. He picked the safe option, standing to shuffle to the desk and back again.

Roman dropped the t-shirt Logan had ruined onto a pile of clothing and pulled a replacement over his head. This one was white, with a cartoon crown in the centre of the chest and the words ‘Hail Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter’ in a circle around it - Logan was pretty certain that Roman’s brother had a matching one, with a bloody head surrounded by the words ‘behold, where stands, the usurper’s cursed head’. He preferred the crown, personally. “Don’t worry about it.”

“About… What?” Logan glanced back up from the browser window he had just opened.

“The pizza. Call it payback for you reading the other half of my video audition last term.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Roman popped the ‘p’, remoed his shoes,  then sat down next to him and pushed his pillow between their backs and the headboard. “Budge over, let me sit. Any thoughts about toppings? Does tuna sound okay? And a drink - do you want some Sprite? Coke?”

Logan should probably argue the payment thing. He was sure Roman had already thanked him for reading that part… But he didn’t have the energy for a full argument about it. “Tuna sounds great.”

“... A drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You have to drink something. Fuck knows you’ve lost enough fluids, Lo.”

With one hand, Logan clicked through Netflix until he found the episode list. With the other, he lifted Roman’s water bottle and waved it at him.

“Fair enough. Which episode are w-”

“Valiant.”

“That’s the one with the snake shield, right?”

He nodded.

“Nice. Hit play, Pocket Protector.”

Logan shuffled closer to Roman’s side, and his friend lifted an arm to drape over his shoulders in a side-hug; when the episode started, he tilted his head to lean against Roman’s shoulder. His eyes were already half closed by the time Kilgharrah started narrating the introduction.

The next thing Logan knew, the warmth of Roman’s body was pulling away from him. When he pried his eyes open, it was to see that their episode had been paused somewhere toward the end; Roman was slipping a pair of flip-flops onto his bare feet, and as Logan watched he stood. Everything was vaguely blurry, and the faint weight of his glasses was missing - a glance to the side showed that someone - Roman - had put them carefully on the bedside table.

“Where’re you going?”

“Pizza’s here. I’ll be right back - didn’t mean to wake you. You’re not going to run away, right?” Roman’s tone was light, but they both knew that he was serious. Logan shook his head automatically.

“I’ll be here.”

“Good. I’ll sic Patton on you if you’re not, got it?”

“I got it.”

After a pause, during which Roman pointed a finger mock-threateningly at him, Logan leaned deliberately into the cushion at his back and folded his hands behind his head. Roman nodded in a self-satisfied sort of way and left the room.

He must have sprinted down to the dorm’s front entrance and then back up again: it was less than five minutes before he was back, slightly breathless and bearing a large box. The smell of melted cheese hit Logan like a truck. Roman must have heard his stomach growl from across the room, because he wasted no time in hopping back onto the bed beside Logan and unpausing Merlin. 

They didn’t speak at first, for which Logan was grateful: he was suddenly ravenous, and had been halfway through his second slice before he had remembered to breathe.

When the episode ended, though, Roman didn’t start the next one despite Logan’s prompting (he wasn’t about to touch Roman’s laptop with his pizza-greased fingers). Instead, he offered Logan his water bottle again, and was uncharacteristically quiet while Logan drank.

The silence stretched on for long enough that Logan had opened his mouth to ask Roman if there was a problem before his friend spoke again.

“Lo, is there anything… I mean, are you doing okay?” The softness from earlier had crept back into his tone, and every single flight reflex in Logan’s body fired at once. He had known it couldn’t be this simple. Roman was worried, rightly so, and Logan wasn’t going to be able to stop him from worrying, and it was going to colour the way he saw him for the rest of his life.

“I’m -”

“If you say you’re fine again, I’m going to scream.”

Logan swallowed the word.

“You’ve been distant lately. You always seem stressed. And now… Is there anything I can help with?”

The words stuck in his throat, and Roman squeezed his shoulder gently.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just… Don’t distance yourself from me - from us, okay? If you’re having a shit time, let us know. We’ll be here for you.”

Logan swallowed again, this time trying to fight down the fresh lump in his throat. “Roman, it’s… It’s just been a rough couple of weeks. Rough month or two. I’m - I’m working on it. It’s okay.”

Another squeeze to his shoulder. “Alright. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you, you know? But -” This time it was Roman who swallowed, clearly searching for the right words. “But… Have you considered talking to somebody else? A counsellor? If-”

“I don’t need to see a counsellor.” The words were automatic, almost cold, and Logan wished he could bite them back. “I mean - I’m alright. There’s nothing wrong here. I’m just tired.”

How was he supposed to explain that whilst there was no shame in anybody else seeing a therapist, to do so would destroy him?

Roman looked at him, eyebrows raised. Logan held his gaze as long as he could, but eventually he had to look away, and Roman sighed. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I was just saying… If you’re struggling, I mean… My therapist has really helped me a lot, that’s all. Just - consider it, okay?”

Logan swallowed a few more times, trying to find something to say, but in the end all he could come up with was a nod. “Okay.” He meant it.

“Thank you.”

Quiet again, but this time there was no suffocating, unbroached topic hanging in the air between them. It was a more comfortable quiet than before, despite the creeping all over Logan’s skin that was telling him to put as much distance between himself and this conversation as he possibly could.

Then Roman started the next episode, and Logan leaned against his shoulder once more. He had relaxed properly by the end of the opening sequence; by the time Gwen was arrested as a witch, they had finished the pizza, and Logan was dozing off once more.

Roman might not have been able to fix everything that was filling his head with noise at the moment, but he had provided a temporary reprieve from the ceaseless, exhausting now what that filled Logan’s every waking moment.

He could deal with everything else when he was slightly less tired.

#university AU #Logan tss #Roman tss #lots of internalised angst #and then some comfort #university is exhausting

[taeverie]

Loved You Then

Synopsis: After years of being apart Jaehyung comes back to voice his feelings, but there was another event that held him back when he reunited with you.

Pairing: Jaehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 2769

A/N: another re-upload, but for my one and only day6 fic hahaha

You were eighteen when Jaehyung bidded goodbye to you in the summer; he gifted an envelope that held an inked correspondence with a simple trinket inside.

You remember that day almost too perfectly: He insisted that you would not open the poorly sealed sleeve until you were inside your vehicle, pure intentions to keep the contents a secret until then. It was not a tearful goodbye, sentiments were not dilapidated — rather, the feeling was almost refreshing.

You had known Jaehyung since you were young, being neighbors and stuck in each other’s classes since elementary swirled an ineffable friendship and a perceptible closeness. It started with a smile, a strange greeting that was paired with an effervescent laugh. You mirrored that same expression back that one mid-spring day, glamour gracing your face as you introduced yourself to him, sheepish and quiescent.

He looked at you, hesitant before replying. Though, when he did, you knew that he would have a significant role in your life.

And so he did.

As years stacked upon each other, days being wasted by walking to school together, creating jests in class, and making each other’s way back was somehow just enough for a stable friendship to form. You two stuck together like a being and its penumbra, constantly shadowing each other to poke silly jests or snap mindless comments towards each other’s mistakes.

Recalling the memories while you sat in the backseat of your car drew a small smile to your face, every fraction of the reminiscence appearing ephemeral the more you attempted to rise it to the surface. Episodes of you and Jaehyung engaging in a silent redamancy flashed in your mind: being alone together on holidays, his annoying aubades he would sing to wake you up in the morning, even to the smallest bits like when you both experienced a plethora of sleepless nights to talk about pointless things.

All in all, the admirable sentiment was evocative — one would of had to be blind to overpass the comely connection shared between you and Jaehyung.

But as limpid the raw intimacy was, nothing changed between you two. There were no proper dates, no surprising gifts — everything remained stagnant. All because you and Jaehyung kept each other’s thoughts at bay, afraid to disrupt the equanimous friendship that took years to construct.

Regret rained down on your being that day when you formally parted from him, kissing goodbye to the city and not your childhood love, but as you were being driven away by your parents in the back of the vehicle, it was already too late.

You remember it clearly: how you sat in the backseat that day wishing that the seats would engulf your tearful being. At that point anything would have felt better than the void in your stomach created by the one who would typically fill it. Your world was like a picturesque halcyon, a state of jocularity that you were able to share with him.

But it became nothing.

You recall staring down at the silly letter, tears seeping into the paper as you were no longer able to hold back such withering emotions. You ran your fingertips over the surface, unable to bring yourself to rip it open and reveal its contents. It took a couple of deep breaths to calm your nerves, but you finally did.

Inside the packed paper rested a letter and a necklace — his necklace of a miniature acoustic guitar similar to the one he carried like a talisman. You gawked at the matching jewelry, intransigent and unsure of what to think. Aside from the extensive amount of memories and mere snapshots of each other, you had something from him, puzzled on why.

That was, until you unfolded the letter.

Every ounce of weight that had piled on was alleviated off your shoulders when you read four simple words; a promise established in blue ink:

“Until we meet again.”

–

There is one day left before the start of Spring. Your world has never ran jejune for a second, felicit air sempiternal since your arrival into the new city.

You wake to the melodious chirps of the birds outside your apartment window, a peaceful tune that is a stark contrast to your typical blares of your alarm clock. As long as you have been living in the fresh city for four years, it still feels new to you. You groan, arm sailing to the bed stand to grab onto your phone, groggy. A scintilla of light streaks on your face when you flutter your eyes open, the illumination more unpleasant to your eyes than the brightness of your screen.

You squint your eyes as an attempt to focus your vision, trying to read the time — only to find out that you are an hour late for your breakfast date. You yank your blankets off your bed and raise yourself up quickly, eyes flaring wide when your mind finally catches up to the situation.

Your thumbs race over the screen of your phone, rapidly sending the first message.

[10:02 AM] You: are you up?

You purse your lips into a pout, anticipating an angry response but within seconds you retrieve the opposite.

[10:03 AM] My angel: Of course. Ive been waiting for you to wake up for an hour!! Way to stand me up

You smile at his message, the slight humor the same as always.

[10:03 AM] My angel: haha, i’m sorry. i forgot to set my alarm but at least i slept some more for once

[10:04 AM] My angel: Im joking :)

[10:04 AM] My angel: Still down for breakfast?

[10:05 AM] You: brunch*

[10:05 AM] My angel: Ill take that as a yes

[10:05 AM] You: same spot? you always order the same stupid chicken and waffles

[10:06 AM] My angel: You already know me, haha. Those are delicious too!! Ill see you in twenty?

[10:06 AM] You: thirty*

[10:06 AM] My angel: <3

You pull yourself out of bed, yawning and stretching prior to creating a cup of coffee. Your apartment is as quiet as ever as you walk through it, the only dull sound being your soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. As the liquid seeps into the glass pot you wait patiently, eyes still struggling to keep themselves open; that is, until you finally pour yourself a cup and down it.

The effect is enlivening, traces of fatigue being drawn out of your body as you prepare to get ready.

It is a typical Tuesday morning; nothing too out of the blue or disturbing, just like every other. The sun appears at its peak despite it barely being ten, and your body is quite the opposite. Desultory, you dress yourself and constantly check the time on your phone to see if you are somehow running late.

Within moments you are out the door, on time to meet up with your boyfriend just as promised. The streets are vast, cars barely adorning the streets as you walk by. It feels as if the sun peeping out in the sky is only a decoy, for the chill breeze practically overtakes every hint of heat — so much for summer.

It does not take long for you to arrive at the location: a dingy diner that juxtaposes with the modern architect of the town. Despite its antique exterior, within the confinements of the restaurants radiates sentiments of joy that come in the form of a simple breakfast plate, or even the muted tunes that emit from the speakers.

You stride onto the checkered tiles of the perimeter, the redolence of sweet syrup and fresh coffee swirling together in the air. Seating yourself, you situate yourself at the corner booth — the signature area for you and your boyfriend since the first date — and peruse the menu. It is a first that you arrive prior to your boyfriend; he usually takes punctuality quite seriously.

You cross your ankles as you skim the options, words not sinking in your mind — you are going to be ordering the same breakfast meal anyway. A few more people flood inside and out of the diner, none of them being your awaited partner, and you release a sigh.

Setting down the menu, your eyes fixate on the entrance of the door hoping that with every swing your boyfriend would be the one to waltz past it. You try to focus on the tunes as you wait for him and the waiter, but the thoughts of him arriving keep poking the back of your mind. It is not until you release another sigh for you to realize that there is a shadow being casted over you. You turn your head towards the cause and your heart almost leaps to your throat

Standing beside your signature table is not the same man that you constantly visit the diner; a familiar face, but one you have not seen in years.

And it takes you by surprise entirely.

Your eyes flare wide, two orbs like blown glass the more your mind refuses to fathom who is standing before you.

From the round glasses the summer blonde hair, skin gently kissed by the heavenly sun, you recognize him within a heartbeat. It takes a couple of moments for your mind to comprehend, but everything appears to fall into place the second he flashes that same signature grin.

It is not your boyfriend standing by the table — not the man you have been waiting for — but it is none other than Jaehyung.

You are rendered speechless, sentences lodged in your throat and the few that make it past has the words dissipating on your tongue. After all, what are you supposed to do when you have an accidental encounter with your childhood friend? Communication with Jaehyung came to a standstill two years ago, the routine of texting each other frequently easing away; it did not take long for, even the most diminutive of, conversations to vanish entirely.

Looking at him, those same eyes that always fill with wonder, your thoughts become a whirlwind and you cannot make a simple attempt to break the silence that is being shared. The music in the diner along with the constant chatter withers to white noise, providing you with a feel that you and Jaehyung are the only two people in the diner.

“I,” you begin, surprised. “Jaehyung?” you say his name, unsure.

He blinks twice, mind just as dazed as your own. “Y-yeah… Y/N, it’s been a while.” He smiles brighter, a look of assurance.

“What are you doing here?” you ask while urging him to sit down with you.

He accepts the offer and situates himself right across from you, fingers interlacing on the surface. “I was just in the area, I didn’t think I’d see you here.” He corrects himself, “Actually, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

His words leave his mouth easily, a polar opposite to how you are unable to articulate your thoughts. You nod, paying attention more to the changes in his appearance than the depth of his words. “I didn’t think so either.”

His smile never falters, pearly whites still gleaming your way. “But… wow. You look different,” he comments, lighthearted.

You laugh. “I can say the same about you.”

“So,” he changes the subject, “how have you been?”

You hum, taking a moment to think. “Great,” you tell him. “Better because I’m getting my breakfast soon especially. What about you?”

“Good,” he responds, immediate. The waiter stops by and fills the empty mugs on the table with coffee, which are quickly followed with a small glass of water. The worker leaves and the conversation resumes like normal. “I’m still working on music and such.”

“That’s great to hear.” You smile. You avert your eyes from his own to look out the window; not in search of your boyfriend, and not as a distraction to shift from the situation, but to collect your thoughts briefly. “Hey,” you turn your attention to him, recalling a significant factor. “Do you still have your tiny guitar charm? The one that matches with what you gave me the day I left.”

Jaehyung appears taken aback, surprised at how you remember such a small item. “Why?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you still wear it?” he questions, light hearted as if he expects the answer to be a “no.”

Instead, you reach for the long string around your neck, the item hidden by your clothing. You tug it out into the open, showing it off to your friend and on the spot, his smile dwindles. “I said I would never take it off,” you inform.

Jaehyung laughs, content. He sails his hands to his pockets, ready to pull out his keychain as he says, “Funny, because I actually—”

“—Y/N!” someone interrupts. You raise your eyebrows at the calling, head turning when you recognize the voice. Jaehyung halts, blood in his body practically freezing.

“Younghyun!” you say, recognizing the face. “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for a long time.”

Younghyun chuckles and plants a light kiss on your cheek when he sits himself next to you. “Sure you were,” he comments. His attention drifts to the man across from him, unfamiliar and a tad awkward. “Who is this?”

“Ah.” You chime, “This is Jaehyung. He’s the friend I told you about back when I lived in the small city.”

“Oh,” he hesitates, unsure thoughts crossing his mind, “I’m Younghyun, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jaehyung only nods at him, a tight smile etching on his face — his version of saying hello to someone a little unwanted for the time being,

“Jae,” you call. “This is my boyfriend, Younghyun.”

“B-boyfriend?” Jaehyung says lowly, swallowing his breath. He rests his palms on his lap, cancelling the action to pull out his keys. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

But by the time he voices his “hello,” it feels as if he is not wanted in the situation, for you are already far too engaged in a heated stare with Younghyun. Jaehyung cannot pull himself to speak, his tongue running as dry as sand the more he lingers in your presence.

He discreetly watches the way Younghyun takes your hand in his, fingers interlaced, and Jaehyung cannot help but wonder what it would be like if he was in your position — if he was the one to hold you lovingly and have these breakfast dates with you frequently.

It isn’t until he clears his throat and uncomfortably shifts in his seat for him to gain your attention again. You force a smile, remember the earlier conversation. “So, what were saying about the charm?”

“Nothing much,” he fibs, hands balling into fists on his lap. There is a long line of silence shared between you two, a quietude that strangers experience with one another. Younghyun quirks the corner of his lips up, taking note of the situation and he tries to diminish his presence.

Jaehyung continues, “I was just going to say that I lost mine a long time ago.”

Your smile fades at the words you thought you would never hear. He broke the small news so easily, and with a slight chuckle — almost as if the charm had no relevance to begin with, like it was never a silent promise for a reunion. This time, you are frozen and left on the edge of unsure thoughts.

“I should go,” Jaehyung tells you. “Music calls.”

But before you can tell him goodbye, he lifts himself from the seat and starts to amble to the exit. You watch his physique quickly saunter, like the moment shared between you two was toxic, and he turns to do a small wave.

You wave back and Younghyun grips harder onto your hand, a small sign to let you know that everything is okay — whatever everything is.

As Jaehyung is a foot out the door he glances one last time at you at the corner table, catching your fetching grin by someone else’s side — someone that is not him. He smiles to himself, happy to see you are well, and slips out his car keys from the depths of his pocket.

He gawks at it for a little, adoring the matching acoustic guitar that dangles on its chain. After all, he said he would never lose it — the item that promised a reunion, a chance to tell you that throughout all the years, he loved you.

#good morning fellow morning crew #day6 #day6 jae #day6 scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 angst #young k scenario #day 6 young k #day6 imagines #day6 fanfic #jaehyung #young k #writing