#( anita being a mess after the five years? :) i had to ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

homoose · 4 years ago

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

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To bargain for immortality pt.6 END

There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.

All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.

Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.

Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.

"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.

"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.

The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.

Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"

"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.

"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.

As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.

The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.

"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.

Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling well? You look pale."

"Yeah yeah-"

"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."

"I did not!" Nicole protested.

"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."

She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.

"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.

That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.

It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.

"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.

Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.

"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.

The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.

"My ladies."

Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.

The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."

Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.

On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.

"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.

Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.

---

Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.

It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.

She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.

The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.

By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.

The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.

"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.

"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.

She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.

"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.

"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.

Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.

It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.

A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.

Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."

Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.

Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.

Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.

Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.

Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.

"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.

With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.

"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.

Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."

She had but not like this. Not like this.

"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.

Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.

Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."

"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.

The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.

Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.

"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.

Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.

With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.

"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.

He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.

The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.

Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.

She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.

---

The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.

She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"

"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.

Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.

She felt downright dreadful.

Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.

A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.

She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.

"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."

Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."

At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.

Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.

"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.

"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.

The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.

"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"

Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.

"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.

---

Date: 20th May 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)

Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts

Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.

The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.

---

Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.

"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.

And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.

She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.

A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.

If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.

---

Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu

Cadou Affinity: Favorable

Brain Functions: Normal

Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #karl heisenberg #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #tw torture #like big fat tw for this one

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Don’t Wanna Forget a Thing

For @fyeahnix !!!!!! Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you end up loving this as much as I love creating it! Thank you also for always giving me such fun prompts to do for the Goirls!!!!!

Summary: Anita and Wraith get away from the games for their anniversary on a vacation that involves being together, lots of good food, lots of Wraith taking pictures, and more than one sexual romp. Finally having privacy away from the games only making Wraith realize more and more things about how she pictures her life with this beautiful woman. Or! In which Anita and Wraith go on an anniversary trip and kiss and fuck a LOT and also bask in each other's presence.

IT COSTS ZERO DOLLARS TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bangalore/Wraith

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Wraith has piercings which is mentioned, public play, scent kink stuff, lots of picture taking + recording that is also explicit bc Wraith wants to remember Everything, Lil bit of bondage, and LOTS of the girls loving each other soooo much

Words: 10.4k

____________________

Psamathe was easily one of the most sumptuous, luxurious locations Wraith had ever seen in her life.

That’s all she could think when Anita brought up taking a trip there for their first-year anniversary. Olympus in its abandoned state as it was, was already terribly expensive looking in appearance. And that’s just for when they were fighting rather than going somewhere just to spend time together. Albeit, holding a knife to your girlfriend’s throat could be considered ‘spending time together’ but not when you were ready to steal Champion right from under their nose.

At first, Wraith had been a bit nervous. It was a beautiful location, don’t get her wrong, with plentiful shops and beautiful scenery. But any hesitations she may have had disappeared at the sight Anita’s excited face. Wraith was already wrapped around her finger and agreeing that it sounded like a great idea for their time off between seasons.

Anita had never been on a vacation like this before, she had admitted with a bit of a sad chuckle. Family vacations weren’t really a thing in their family- always on the stiffer end of waiting for more orders from the military. Being able to get away, as she explained it to Wraith, was almost like a dream.

Most people went home. Wraith and Anita both had their own reasons for not returning. Wraith, because she didn’t even know if she had any family members to begin with. And Anita, her home planet and family being too far- the whole reason she joined the games in the first place. Finding someone willing to take her home.

But together, they were their own family.

Together, they were a home.

~Rest under the cut~

The dropship leading to their hotel is spent with Wraith wide awake and Anita leaning down and to the side to rest her head on her shoulder. Wraith spends that time with her head resting against hers, her hand resting on Anita’s thigh and squeezing soothingly when Anita gets disturbed by a bit of turbulence. Soft murmurs of, “We’re okay, shh, I’m here. Rest up, baby.” To encourage Anita back to rest. Normally followed by Anita’s soft, fond hum and her freckled cheek nuzzling lightly across the top of Wraith’s head.

Their hotel is even prettier than the pictures. Huge and spacious with a big enough bed for them to share. Not like the size would save Anita’s body from the wrath of Wraith’s cold hands, however. The canopy bed was massive, with beautiful white gauzy fabric tied up around it giving it this romantic feeling with soft twinkling lights entangled in pink flowers.

To the left of it was a huge balcony overlooking a beautiful lake with big mountains and trees since in the distance across the way, with the city’s lights on the opposite side sparkling enticingly. Benches, tables, and chairs on the balcony for a quiet night or morning overlooking the beauty of the city they were staying at.

The bathroom was huge on its own with a walk-in shower made from stone and glass, big enough you could probably host at least five people in there comfortably, and a clawfoot tub off to the side. The double vanity with quartz countertops was equally as lovely, including everything they may need for their stay left atop in a basket.

“I could get used to this.” Anita had murmured low in her chest, arms wrapping around Wraith from behind in the bathroom as they both looked at the massive mirror together. Wraith had hummed her agreement, it definitely being a step up even from their quarters at the compound. Her plump lips quirk up into a half smile, turning her head up to receive a forehead kiss.

From there, it was planned dates for their two weeks in the city.

Anita suggests scoping out the city first, reminding Wraith that Natalie had a few places she wanted them to try as well. Wraith remembered, having written them down with Natalie’s insistence and a big smile on her face- anything for her best friend, after all.

The first day is sightseeing, going and walking around with their hands interlocked. Anita didn’t tend to care for PDA, but after a few hungry looks peering over at her, Wraith had casually slipped their hands together. A low hum nearing a growl in her throat when Anita had laughed. “What? Don’t like people checkin’ out the goods?”

“Don’t like people checking out what’s mine.” Wraith had coolly replied, looking up at her from under her thick lashes and smirking when she catches Anita’s freckled cheeks flushing and a small lip bite.

Cute.

She’s so cute.

Should let them watch-

Should let them watch how we tear her apart-

“They bugging you?” Anita’s voice cuts in, looking pointedly at how milky white Wraith’s eyes turn. Wraith shakes her head softly, offering a little shoulder shrug to show they weren’t saying anything worrying. No danger. However, Wraith wasn’t about to stroke Anita’s ego and tell her the reasons why.

They stop at locations to eat, a nice outside area in the morning where Anita looks beautiful in the morning light with her hands cupped around a mug and her full lips curling around the lip of it. Wraith must look at her a bit too fondly because Anita smirks, with a cocky sounding remark about if Wraith would rather take a picture to make it last longer. To which Wraith replies sarcastically of how she bets Anita wished she would, only to make Anita laugh, her head thrown back and dimples creasing her cheeks.

Wraith would end up taking a picture of her, however, for her book to keep for her own memories. Fit with little hearts drawn around it of where the morning light kissed Anita’s warm face and made her face glowy with her little smile left on her lips.

Parks were Wraith’s personal favorites. The large trees and walking paths brought a warm peace to her as she walked hand in hand with Anita. The crunch of Autumn leaves under her boots’ heels with each step and the crisp breeze blowing a few loose hairs from her messy bun around her. Everyone was quiet for the most part. Only occasionally piping up when Wraith would peek at Anita and everyone would start their rants. Ranging from Wraith’s innermost adoring thoughts to the filthier of them.

Who would have thought shopping would be Anita’s favorite? She loved clothes shopping, namely, putting Wraith in outfits and having her walk out and twirl for her. Anita’s own wardrobe was kept pretty simple, more masculine or neutral clothing just like she liked it. Though at some point in time, Wraith walks out in a sweet white dress she would have never picked. A thin bow tied at her chest and the sleeves short and puffy resting just on her biceps below her shoulders with the skirt flowy and sweet. It looked very cute- but definitely not her normal style.

It seems to do it for Anita however, who ends up in the dressing room with her, kissing Wraith until her breath is gone and her legs are hooked around Anita’s waist so she can grind into her and grunt in her ear about how good she looks.

That picture was taken by Anita, a selfie of the two with Wraith propped up against the wall by Anita’s hips still and Anita raising one side of her lips in an almost snarl and doing a rock sign. Whilst Wraith’s hair was a mess, bite marks on her neck and covering her face with her arm while her top and bra were tugged below her plump breasts.

That would later start a war between them of many more selfies and pictures in more sexual settings. One always having to prove they were better than the other.

Not that Wraith didn’t notice, though. How much Anita loved being on camera. Something that would be used to her advantage later as well.

Another day, they go to a cute café together. Sitting outside of it where the sky is gray and the rain gently patters down without too much concern for it underneath the large, white, lacy parasol over their heads. On the matching glass table is a plate of sampler little cakes, since Wraith was unsure of the flavors she would or wouldn’t like. On the table if her journal detailing the foods she liked and disliked, just so she could keep track for later purposes.

Anita insists on feeding her the bites, fit with a hand cupped under the spoon and her going, “Say ahh.” A blinding smile always on her face when Wraith rolls her eyes dramatically before going ‘aaah’ to placate her. Sealing her lips around the sweet cakes and having a different opinion each time.

Each bite is taken into account, with Anita laughing at her when Wraith makes displeasured faces fit with crinkling her nose when it’s a flavor she isn’t fond of. Normally followed by Wraith swallowing said bite and quickly downing it with water and hastily writing in her book with an underlined red pen of ‘No’ in bold.

If it’s a flavor she enjoys, she notes that Anita goes quiet when Wraith hums in a low moan of pleasure with the taste. Taking her time to flick her tongue over the spoon or linger a bit too long just so she can peek at Anita whose cheeks are red, but a small smile still on her face.

When Anita goes to take a bite of a cake Wraith really liked right after her, she leans herself across the table to kiss Anita. Swiping her tongue over her lips with another low hum of approval as she situates herself back in place with a look over Anita’s red face at the blatant PDA. “Mmh. I think I like it better when it’s from your mouth instead.”

“Ghostie, Imma need you to tone it down in public,” Anita whispers breathily at her, her ears burning and her elbow going to rest on the table with a hand over her face so she can hide her embarrassed look from Wraith.

Which is oh so fondly taken a picture of by Wraith after a quick glance down at the glass table to see how tightly Anita’s got her thighs pressed together and squirming lightly.

She’s so easy to turn on.

Look at how cute she is when she turns red for us.

You know she doesn’t actually want it to be toned down.

No one is around, what’s she so shy about?

Maybe she’s hoping you’ll take here right here--

In front of you.

Wraith blinks the visions away just in time to see Anita uncovering her face, reaching across the table to try and smear cake on Wraith’s face. Thankfully with the warning, Wraith jerks back with a short chuckle when Anita narrowly misses, only skimming her bottom lip with icing. The dodge only makes Anita try harder to get her, resulting in laughter from the both of them as Wraith leans back, ending up snatching her wrist and twisting her arm back towards Anita to aim for her face back.

They don’t notice a couple passing by soon after, holding an umbrella to stay close and looking over at the duo with a fond smile on their own faces as they think of their youth together.

The day proceeds just as softly with them together, walking the streets and occasionally taking breaks to rest or just to look at the hologram of a map and figure out what their next location should be. Sitting shoulder to shoulder and both feeling freer than ever without the responsibilities of keeping things ‘under wraps’ for the interviews for the Games.

Even then, they were known across the Outlands. Fans would occasionally stop them even here, smiling and giggling and asking for pictures. Both always declined the pictures, but most were respectful and understood and just told their stories. Some people telling Wraith that she helped them accept themselves with their own disorders- something she never thought she’d even help with. People with DID relating to her or schizoaffective disorders.

It felt...good for someone else to relate to her. For someone else to see her and think if she could do something like that, they could too.

When people stop Anita, their own stories are just as warming. Seeing not only a strong woman competing on screen, but a black woman. People explaining how it empowered them to apply for jobs they would have never before, or to be more assertive in saying No to people due to Anita’s most infamous interviews where she’d put her foot down at certain questions and tell them to move on or she would be leaving.

Not to mention some of the women stopping Anita looking to be of more masculine dress like she was, always seeming to bond to her in a way of seeing representation in a ‘Stud’ on screen. When Wraith had asked about that term after they had left, Anita explained it with a bit of a laugh and a one shouldered shrug. “Just some slang, baby.”

“An accurate term.” Wraith hums back, her eyes looking Anita over from toe to head in a slow drag and making a clear show of checking her out. That results in a blush on Anita’s cheeks, lightly shoving Wraith’s shoulder and shushing her once more. Again, Anita didn’t like PDA, something Wraith used to her advantage to make her blush even more.

Later that night, however, it would be Anita’s turn to enact some red cheeked vengeance.

Under the night sky with beautiful bright stars, there’s a violinist in the streets playing a beautiful love song on the corner of the street. People have gathered around to listen and watch her play, some kind of swaying to the music or holding their loved one with them.

Wraith feels a hand grab hers as they get closer, only to be pulled in a twirl back towards Anita and her waist grabbed as she smiles down at Wraith. “May I have this dance?”

Wraith’s face flushes red with an embarrassed laugh choking from her throat as Anita begins to lead them in a dance on the sidewalk. Twirling her and swaying with her and making Wraith’s nervousness bubble down into just soft laughter as she’s twirled back into Anita’s arms and dipped with one of her legs going up to complete said dip.

They’re watching.

“Anita they’re looking-”

“Let them. What? A girl can’t dance with her favorite ghost?” Anita’s voice is teasing as she pulls Wraith back up, spinning her in a twirl once again and dragging her body close to hers with a tighter grip on her waist and mischief flashing in her dark eyes. “Ya don’t mind the PDA when you’re doin’ it, but when I do it...”

Wraith is lifted by her waist and spun in the air, making an uncharacteristic and humiliating squeak leave her lips as her hands grip Anita’s broad shoulders. She’s brought back down, their noses nuzzled together and making her face feel all too hot when Anita chuckles low and rumbling in her chest. “See why you like it. Like when you turn all red for me.”

That night, Wraith makes sure to turn Anita all red for her. Fit with licking into her mouth and tying her down, making her thighs shake and her muffled moans crying out around Wraith’s panties in her mouth. Wraith makes sure to take a picture of her afterwards with flash just to embarrass Anita further, admiring the pictures afterwards and how her nails had scratched ‘Mine’ across Anita’s abdomen in raised dark pink marks.

These would go right in her personal journal, for her eyes only unless she wished to embarrass Anita by showing and reminding her.

The present day was a lazy day in the morning. Spent in bed for most of it and resting in each other’s embrace and eating together. Wraith needs the down time, and it looks like Anita does too considering the way she whines whenever Wraith needs to get up to do something as simple as brush her teeth. Needily burying her face into Wraith’s neck or back once she’s finally back in bed and grumbling about her cold skin when Wraith’s nails scratch at Anita’s scalp and running her cool fingers down her neck.

Of course, that only results in Anita getting said cold hands pressed further across her skin until she has to arch into her girlfriend and away from her freezing hands. Only able to stop her when Anita grabs her wrists and pins them above Wraith’s head with a huff. “Watch it, Blasey.”

“Or you’ll what, Sergeant?” Wraith quips back with a cock of her head. Her hair loose from its normal up position, dark locks curling around her head and her face in a messy way that makes Anita swallow. Her baby blue eyes look hungry as she peers up at her from under her lashes, her strong thighs spread around Anita’s hips and her soft, plump lips quirking into a smirk when Anita doesn’t reply. “Gonna tie me up so I can’t touch you? I’d like to see you try.”

Anita opens her mouth to huff back that she’s stronger than her and ropes wouldn’t be necessary to hold Wraith down. Only to yelp when Wraith hooks one leg around her waist, thrusting her hips in time to push Anita backwards and using her weight to push her back. Anita lands with an ‘oof’ on her back, her girlfriend happily perched on her lap with now Anita’s hands above her head, laced in Wraith’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Wraith teases, leaning down to be close enough their breath mingles.

“I’d like somethin’ on my tongue, that’s for sure.” Anita breathes back, her eyes flickering down to her plump lips and how Wraith smirks. Wraith makes sure to lick her own lips, the flash of her piercing making Anita’s breath hitch.

Too easy.

“Be a good girl and keep your hands up there for me, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wraith moves her head down, ending up kissing along Anita’s neck, leaving small bites and humming when Anita moans. Letting her tongue slide down her neck as Anita tilts her head to the side with a satisfied sigh when lips brush that little spot she liked being kissed the most.

Only for Wraith to blow a big, wet raspberry in her neck and causing Anita to shout, squirm, and shove at Wraith who goes falling backwards with a laugh.

Only for a pillow to thump her right in her face in turn.

That results in laughter bubbling from their room as they fire pillows at each other, ending with Anita running to take shelter in the shower and Wraith cornering her with a pillow until Anita can swing and pin her to the shower wall. Resulting in more laughter and stolen kisses and finally a truce.

By the time night rolls around, they’ve both have had their very necessary downtime. Tonight, they were going to go to a club, one that Ramya had suggested to Anita. Of course, when Anita had narrowed her eyes and mentioned that Ramya had been 20 when she came on a business trip here and wouldn’t be old enough to enter the club, Ramya had merely given her a look. ‘Been runnin’ this business since I was a kid, but me handlin’ guns is less frightening to you than underage drinking? C’mon, ‘Nita, don’t be such a mom.’

Anita dresses up for the occasion. A black, tailor fitted button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms and it unbuttoned tastefully down towards her cleavage but covering entirely. Black form fitting slacks fitting into her combat boots. A leather banded watch rests on one wrist, a gold chain choker and her dog tags rest around her neck, drawing attention to her collar bones and chest, and matching rings decorate her hands.

This was an outfit Wraith went a bit crazy over. Something simple but a little more dressed up than Anita’s casual outfits. Maybe Anita was looking to tease a little bit, maybe work Wraith up a bit and get her to finish what she started earlier. Anita checks herself over in the mirror, a ringed hand running over the side of her neck where a bruise was made earlier from Wraith’s mouth.

Before she can linger much longer on it, the bathroom door is heard creaking open and Anita goes to open her mouth to tease Wraith about maybe going in a hoodie or something casual. But her breath is stolen from her the second she sees her girlfriend.

Wraith normally wore things that were more on the punk side or more covering when in situations like this. But today, Anita guesses, she’s trying to kill her.

Wraith dresses in a tight black dress with a low plunge neck to get an eyeful of her plentiful cleavage and floral lace full length sleeves. It pools almost to the floor with a long slit up her left leg nearly reaching her hip and exposing her soft skin and her own black boots. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, her fringe swept to the side and two loose pieces of hair curling onto the sides of her face in their natural waves. Her makeup is done with a pitch-black matte lipstick on her lips and winged out eyeliner. A black velvet choker around her neck is only the icing on the cake for Anita.

The way the dress clings to her soft, filled out frame makes Anita swallow hard. Wraith can see how she looks at her, her eyes raking over her favorite ghost’s form. Wraith tries not to smirk, cocking her head to the side to show the expanse of her neck and watching Anita’s dark eyes slowly sliding up before she’s licking her full lips and she’s making a low whine in her throat. “When in the hell did you get this?”

“When Nat and I went out a few weeks ago,” Wraith starts, struggling not to laugh when Anita comes closer until her hands can slide up Wraith’s curves. She looks like a little puppy dog, or like Wraith was a present for her. Wraith can’t say she hates the attention this holds on her. “She said you would like it. Looks like she wasn’t wrong. Never is.”

“Remind me to thank her.” Anita sighs.

Wraith’s hands grab Anita’s wrists and slide them back down to the swell of her hips when they start to creep higher, resulting in a low whine from her poor, poor girlfriend who looks like she’s about to ditch the idea of the club all together. Wraith might be thinking the same thing, looking over the outfit Anita had on and picturing popping all those taunting buttons and tying her hands above her head so she’s just in her slacks and accessories. Maybe tie her to a chair...

They’re practically eye fucking each other. Wraith’s hands still stay around Anita’s wrists, holding them in place on her hips where Anita is squeezing her with flexes of her fingers. It’d be too easy to just back her against a wall, mouth at Anita’s neck until she got weak in the knees and fell to the floor.

We could taunt her.

Imagine how she’ll look looking at only us in a sea full of people.

Make her want us more.

Make her beg-

“Good?” Anita murmurs softly, dragging Wraith’s attention back to her face. It’s spoken quietly, a pointed look to Wraith’s once milky white gaze.

Wraith quirks her lips up, standing on her tiptoes and letting her soft painted lips press a kiss fondly to Anita’s jawline, the start of her marks for the night. “They’re fine. Nothing bad.”

It’s enough of a pause to let Wraith break away from her, much to Anita’s disappointment who whines and tries to follow after her. But a reminder of their plans is enough to get her to stop, even if it’s just because Wraith knows she’s looking at her ass when she turns around to bend over and make sure her boots are laced up.

Too easy.

A private driver picks them up to drop them off at the club. Wraith’s hand rests on Anita’s thigh near the entire drive, subtly squeezing whilst looking out the window and feeling how Anita’s muscles tense beautifully. She can feel her squirm when her hand inches up a bit more towards her inner thigh, squeezing and letting her gaze flicker over to Anita.

Anita herself looked so cute, her legs spread casually, her elbow resting on the side of the car with her mouth covered by her hand and her own gaze turned outside. Even in the dark, Wraith can see her blush from here and how Anita tries to play it cool. A squirm of her body, a clear of her throat, and trying to adjust her legs occasionally only for them to fall back open and prey to Wraith’s squeezing.

By the time they make it to ‘The Tipsy Bat’ nightclub, Anita’s already wound up. Something Wraith can tell just by how she exits the car and has to adjust herself before going and opening Wraith’s door. Always a gentleman.

It starts well enough. The club is huge and spacious, the lights sticking to a more pastel with some illuminating bats on the walls. The bar is off to the side, out of the way to allow easier access with the music sticking to a deeper bass instead of shrill. Natalie had recommended this club, explaining that it was easier on the eyes. She explained that she had her headphones on her just in case and that there were ‘quiet rooms’, making it easier to manage if she got overwhelmed.

Perfect for Anita. Sometimes too loud of bangs could startle her if she wasn’t ready or in the mindset for fighting. It could send her into overdrive, upsetting her enough that Wraith would need to find her a quiet place to ground her again. Just as too bright of lights could send Wraith into a panic if she wasn’t prepared for them.

Wraith goes to get them drinks from the bar, just water for herself, something stronger for Anita upon request. At the bar she keeps an eye out, casually leaning back against it and letting her eyes scan the scene.

Bodies press to each other on the dancefloor, people dancing with their friends or lovers. The music is a deeper, steady bass, perfect for something to grind to and people are abusing that. Her eyes scan farther, looking for Anita and finding her leaning against the wall she’d left her at but now with two girls on either side of her seeming to be talking her up. One twirling her long blonde braids and fluttering her lashes and clearly eyeing Anita up, the other girl leaning closer to her and doing that flirty little gesture of resting her hand on Anita’s bicep.

Anita clearly is trying to be polite, flashing a smile and clearly liking the attention. Wraith can’t blame the girls, nor Anita. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Of course people wanted a piece of what was Wraith’s. Look at her. Such a handsome woman with her curls and her freckled, dimples smile. Her kind gaze and how when she laughed it was deep enough to rattle your chest from her smoky tone.

But she’s ours.

She knows she’s ours so what’s the harm?

Look at them- all over her. We should show them who she belongs to-

“Your drinks, ma’am.” The voice of the bartender makes Wraith blink a few times, turning her attention back to the bar and thanking them as she takes the two glasses. She feels like a predator as she slinks through the crowd, people parting as if they knew she was a woman on a mission as she approaches their area to set drinks on the table nearby Anita.

“-h my gosh, running around on that arena must be soooo hot! Do you get like, super sweaty?” Wraith catches one of the girls asking, a giggle in her voice and her teeth biting her bottom lip as she looks Anita up and down at the words ‘super sweaty’. Wraith is closer now, able to see how Anita rubs the back of her neck and offers a low chuckle.

“Yeah, of course. King’s canyon tends to run a bit hotter. But I’m hot blooded, ya know? Like it hot.” Anita answers, only resulting in both girls looking at each other with a knowing expression and one of them laughing a bit harder than necessary.

“Hot blooded! Oh my gosh, you are so funny!”

Wraith feels her own blood boil.

She creeps closer, silent like a ghost and making the two women jump in surprise when Wraith slides an arm around Anita’s waist and tucks her body against her. Her nails press lightly to Anita’s side, pressing nice and close to her and feeling satisfaction when Anita’s arm rests around her and gives a squeeze in greeting.

“I suggest you find another ‘funny’ girl. This one’s taken.” Wraith’s tone is icier than she intends. Unfortunately, it’s how most things came out of her mouth, rather flat without much tone indication. Her expression doesn’t help any either, her eyebrows not even so much as twitching.

When the girls trot off with half assed goodbyes and a nervous glance over Anita’s smaller companion, Wraith can’t help but huff a bit. Turning to bury her face into the side of Anita’s chest and growling a bit low in her throat. “I remember why it took us so long to date in the first place. You’re so oblivious.”

“Or maybe I just like seein’ ya jealous.” Anita teases back, squeezing her arm around Wraith and letting her hand brush up and down the curve of her side as if soothing an angered lion. “You look like a pissed off kitten. It’s cute.”

That might just seal Anita’s fate, and Wraith knows that Anita knows how Wraith feels about being treated as small. Her eyes flash dangerously up at her, seeing how Anita’s lips flicker into a little smirk because she knows. She knows what she’s said and done.

Wraith’s nails press into Anita’s side, curling her body around her until she can press her hand to the wall behind her, her other hand grabbing Anita’s jaw and drawing her attention down to Wraith.

Her baby blues trace over Anita’s face, down to her lips and then flickering back up to her eyes as she brings her close enough for their breath to mingle. “Watch it, Williams. I’m not against making an example out of you in front of everyone. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Even in the club, Wraith can see how Anita swallows, squirming when Wraith presses closer. Anita’s cocky expression falls quick when Wraith slides a thigh between hers, drawing Anita nice and close until her lips can press at the expanse of her neck. The hiss falling from her fall lips of embarrassment is worth it alone, but it’s even more worth it when Wraith sucks hard on the side of her neck to leave a bruise.

Anita knows better than to draw attention by yelping, but that doesn’t stop her from hissing Wraith’s name and squeezing her waist until Wraith is satisfied with the bruise. Letting Anita stand up as Wraith quirks one corner of her lips up in a smirk. “Try not to let another girl get all over you.”

Should find them and ask if they want to watch her-

Watch her get fucked by us.

Show them who does it better.

Bet they were pillow princesses anyway.

Wouldn’t know how to touch her like we do.

She wants us.

She likes when we’re mad.

“And if I don’t?” Anita breathes, leaning back on the wall as a pastel pink light zooms by her face, highlighting the darkness on her cheeks. Her legs are still lightly spread, still staying right where Wraith put her. A good girl.

“I’ll do worse than just give you a hickey. Maybe they’d like to receive a video of what a good girl you are for me on your knees.” Wraith’s voice is just as icy as it always is. Quirking a brow at Anita and waiting for a quip back, but all she gets in return is a low whine.

Once settled down again, Wraith offers Anita her drink to sip on before they go and dance. A precaution to down your drink before ever letting it out of your sight even for a moment.

Anita doesn’t dance, that’s what she says always to Wraith with a roll of her eyes as she’s bringing her to the dancefloor. They both know it’s a lie. If anything, Wraith didn’t dance. But she’d seen Anita dance plenty. Swaying her hips in the kitchen when cooking, bouncing her body to rhythms that hypnotized Wraith often into coming up behind her to wrap her arms around her while she swayed.

Wraith knew dances, but whether she knew them from another life or this path knew it, she still wasn’t sure. She knew belly dances, rhythms in which her hips and abdomen were your focal point. Things she taunted Anita with that made her whine and strain against bonds and huffing about how much she wanted to touch Wraith. Always an ego booster.

Even on the dancefloor now, it takes Wraith more time to unwind as they move together to the deep bass and flashing pastel lights. Anita’s hands keep sliding over Wraith’s body, squeezing over her soft curves and the plumpness of her hips. Wraith can’t even argue that she’s not doing the same thing, feeling over Anita’s strong arms and the much sharper, built waist of hers.

It gets to the point where Wraith’s breath is catching whenever Anita’s hands slide over her body. Ending up dragging Wraith to her, with her back to her chest where her hands can slide up and over Wraith’s body as she reaches behind to grip at Anita where she can. Wraith’s face is flush, warmed when Anita’s head dips, pressing hungry kisses to her neck and down her shoulder and hearing the quieted moan from her lips when she inhales Wraith’s scent.

Wraith’s hips grind backwards absentmindedly into Anita’s that are starting to dry hump against her ass. The swell of her ass being a perfect thing for Anita to grind into as her hands fall to her round hips and draw her closer back. One of Wraith’s hands grabs the back of Anita’s neck at her nape, her fingers teasing up the velvety shaved sides as Anita’s teeth press into the side of her neck and make Wraith whine low in her throat.

They’re practically dry humping on the dancefloor. Not that anyone pays them any mind like anyone else. It takes all of her strength for Wraith to break them apart and not just stake her claim in public. Taking Anita’s hand and rushing them through the crowd and straight for the private bathroom. Wraith is quick to lock it behind them, walking Anita back against the sink and grabbing the front of her button up to tug her down until their lips can hungrily press together.

The sound Anita makes is worth it alone with the way she moans into Wraith’s mouth, her hands coming to grip Wraith’s hips and draw her close until she can fit her body against hers. Sliding her thigh between Anita’s parted legs where she eagerly starts to grind against it.

There are hungry hands sliding up each other’s bodies, Anita’s hands grabbing at Wraith’s ass and pressing her closer, sliding up her curves and grabbing at where she can. Wraith is no better, undoing the buttons on Anita’s shirt with hunger and untucking it. Her hands slide up her strong form, over her abs and up to her braless chest where Wraith grabs and squeezes just as her teeth sink into Anita’s bottom lip.

“Let me taste you,” Wraith breathes against Anita’s lips, drawing her pierced tongue over Anita’s lips in a playful flick that makes her moan. “I’ll make it quick.” It’s spoken in a hushed tone, breathy as their breath mingles and Anita keeps making the prettiest little sounds in her throat.

A nod is all Wraith needs before her hands are going down to Anita’s belt, quickly working it out of its loops as she starts to kiss down her torso. Leaving heavy black prints from her lips. Wraith makes sure to leave her mark, still not quite satisfied about the girls from earlier. Making sure to bite down and suck on Anita’s skin over her abdomen and hips, paying special attention to the part just above the elastic of her Apex branded briefs.

Anita’s already wet, shown by the darker gray on her crotch. Wraith can’t help but bury her face there against her as she pulls her pants down to mid-thigh, inhaling her scent and hearing Anita laugh above her in an embarrassed fashion. "O c’mon, Ghostie-”

“I like the way you smell.” Wraith murmurs honestly, nosing at the wet spot and moaning low in her throat at the deep scent of sex. “You smell so good...” It’s spoken with a sigh as her tongue drags along the fabric.

But she can’t help herself any longer, hooking her fingers in Anita’s briefs and dragging the elastic down to rest on her pants and exposing her cunt. She takes her time teasing, biting and sucking her way around her inner thighs to leave more and more bruises.

Always so pretty when she’s covered in marks, Wraith thinks. With her dark curls and her smaller lower lips all exposed and glistening from wetness. It only takes Wraith’s hand pressing on her mound to expose her clit, engorged and shiny. Her plump lips seal around it immediately, suckling and letting her tongue do all the talking for her in broad swipes. Paying special attention to letting her piercing flick off the tip and making Anita’s hips jerk.

Anita’s hands grip the sink, pressing her body back into it and gripping onto it for dear life as her head falls forward. Wraith looks up under her lashes, spying how her brow furrows, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to stay quiet even as her hips helplessly try to hump against Wraith’s mouth.

Wraith makes a show of licking up her slickness, from hole to clit and nosing her way against her. She makes sure she moans into her, letting Anita know just how much she loved her taste and scent. It does the job just fine, making Anita’s cheek turn rosy red and her head rolling to the side with a sharp whimper.

Wraith’s hands slide up the back of Anita’s legs, grabbing handfuls of her muscular ass and forcing her to hold her hips still and tilted forward. It provides a good angle for Wraith to mercilessly trace her tongue against her clit, writing her name around it as her nails press into her flesh. Only one thought on her mind with each trace.

Mine.

When Anita cums, it’s with one of her hands clinging to the sink and the other slamming over her mouth as her beautiful cries become muffled. Wraith drinks her down, licking greedily at her slickness and feeling each contract of her cunt with every skim of her tongue. She doesn’t stop licking until Anita’s legs are quaking and she’s murmuring incoherently behind her hand in a frantic way with each strained twitch of her hips.

When Wraith finally stops, she kisses over Anita’s marked thighs where the bruises from her teeth are and scratches from her nails. Just as greedily, she leaves another one near the delicious V shaped markings from the muscles on Anita’s hips. Making sure the bruise is nice and dark despite the whines of protests above her.

By the time Wraith finally stops marking her, she’s standing up and seeing how Anita’s legs shake and her head falls back. Can you really blame Wraith for reaching into her bag to snap a photo of her? The flash makes Anita groan, turning her head to the side with a heavy flush on her face and a huff. “D’ya have to take a picture, really?”

“You always said I should document the things I like.” Wraith practically purrs back, looking down at the developed photo in delight. In it you could see Anita just as beautiful and satisfied as she is now. Covered in lipstick marks and bite marks, her pussy glistening with a thin string of wetness drooling towards her thighs. Her pussy has smears of her lipstick, especially circling her clit. It almost makes Wraith go back on her knees, eager to lick her through another orgasm.

Thankfully for Anita, all Wraith wants is a picture and checking in on her. Helping her back into her clothes, despite her slightly disheveled appearance now while Wraith pauses to reapply her lipstick in the mirror. She can practically feel the hearts fluttering off Anita with the way she looks at her, especially when Anita comes and hugs her from behind, burying her face against Wraith’s neck for the comfort she always seeks after an orgasm.

When they finally make it back out into the club to start dancing again, it doesn’t take very long for hands to start wandering again and for Anita to start grinding against her. By then it’s a rush to call their driver outside with Anita squirming next to Wraith and her not doing much better. Hard to be behaved when your handsome girlfriend is covered in your kiss marks and bite marks and her body still has that healthy glow of ‘just had an orgasm’.

Even the car ride is tense, sexual tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Wraith’s sure the driver notices, but thankfully they don’t say anything but for them to have a nice night as the two women race into their hotel to get to the elevator. Where once more, they’re handsy and needy, Wraith’s lipstick left lingering on Anita’s lips even as they race down the hall to get to their room.

By the time they finally get inside, shoes are kicked off, bags thrown to the side, and hands are frantic to get on one another. For once, Anita gets the upper hand, managing to scoop Wraith up to throw her onto the bed like it’s their wedding night and she’s about to get her first taste of her.

No words are exchanged despite their combined snarky nature normally wanting them to. Anita’s soft, full lips press over Wraith’s, fitting her body until Wraith’s plush thighs are hugged around her waist and her dress is being shimmied up her body to make way for Anita’s wandering hands. Her calloused hands slide up Wraith’s dress, over her soft skin and over a few raised scars. Dragging her nails back down towards her hips to make her squirm underneath her.

Wraith can hardly breathe between the heavy kisses, the slides of their tongues and the light click of teeth. Her hands frantically work on Anita’s buttons, rolling her hips upwards and managing to get her shirt open and free so she can reach up to cup at her breasts and roll the hardened nipples between kisses. This results in Anita’s hips humping against her in slow grinds, her kisses becoming breathy and more of her lips parted to sigh in pleasure. Plenty of room for Wraith to lick at her tongue.

It takes just a single adjustment of Wraith’s leg slipping between Anita’s instead for her to crack. Anita’s hips helplessly hump against her thigh, her low moan reverberating in Wraith’s mouth and only reminding her just of how wet she was. And it takes just that moment of weakness for Wraith to roll them over and slam Anita’s hands above her head, fingers intertwined with hers.

Wraith straddles her lap just like Anita likes. Sitting up and parting their lips and smirking when Anita grunts in annoyance and tightens her grip on Wraith’s hands. “Wraith-”

“Anita.”

Anita’s brow furrows at the simple tone, meanwhile clearly embarrassed at how disheveled she sounds in turn. Wraith liked it that way. Loving seeing her warm freckled cheeks turn dark red and seeing that grumpy little look on her face yet pure desire racing through her eyes when her eyes drag over Wraith’s form.

Anita squirms underneath her, pushing at Wraith’s arms- something she could easily overpower Wraith in. But when Wraith simply pushes back, quietly telling Anita to stay down without words, her arms stay right where she’s holding them.

Though Anita was physically stronger, she knew who was really the top dog around here.

“There’s my pretty girl. You wanna be my good girl tonight, hm?” Wraith’s voice comes out silken and low, just how Anita liked it. It’s without needing to say does she move her hands from Anita’s, moving off her lap briefly to begin stripping her completely. Carefully unbuttoning and working Anita’s pants and briefs off until she’s naked and squirming under Wraith’s gaze.

Her rings and watch are gingerly taken off with loving hands from Wraith, set to the side and out of the way with all that’s left on her being her chains and dog tags. A look that never fails to make Wraith sigh at her whilst Anita grunts under her now in embarrassment, even with her legs parted with Wraith between them and her body exposed for the umpteenth time with her.

Wraith sighs at her lovingly once again, running her hands along Anita’s thighs and taking in the sight of the prior bruises and lipstick marks left on her. Including the smear of black across her lips from the make out session just held. All marked and hers.

“Can I tie you up tonight?” Wraith starts softly, tracing her nails up Anita’s sides to make her squirm as she chirps out a ‘yes’ in return with an enthusiastic head nod. “Can I record us for later?” Another nod the head, a little shier. If shy was even in Anita’s vocabulary. “You remember your safe words and signals, handsome?”

After a brief clarification and making sure everything was fine, from there it’s tying Anita up. Tying her lying down with her arms above her head tied to the headboard. It’s a minimal tie, not elaborate like Wraith normally liked, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

A click of Wraith’s camera is heard and a whine from Anita follows as Wraith pulls away the camera to see the photo with a small smile on her face. The calm before the storm- even if Anita was already quite marked up. “I needed a ‘before’ picture.”

“You’re an ass.” Anita huffs back, squirming against the red rope when Wraith stalks towards her again. A cold hand inching up her thigh and making Anita instinctively spread her strong legs open. It exposes her cunt, her inner lips blossoming open like a flower and showing her already engorged clit still circled with black lipstick from earlier. Beautiful.

Click.

“Wraith!!!”

Wraith can’t help the chuckle that leaves her, setting her camera to the side finally and crooning. “Can’t help it that you’re so handsome covered in my mark, sweetheart. Can you really blame me for wanting to capture this moment? Thought you wanted me to take pictures of what I loved.”

“If you don’t hurry up and get your ass over here, I’m gonna break these bonds and show you what you’re missing from just pictures, ghostie. I ain’t an art exhibit.” Anita huffs, clearly embarrassed as she arches her back in a beautiful arch and pulls on the ropes. Wraith smirks, setting the camera on the nightstand next to the tablet which she opens up and angles at the bed. Doing it quick so Anita wouldn’t get too squirmy.

It’s Wraith’s turn to strip out of her dress, letting it pull to the ground and hooking her thumbs under her black lace panties and pulling them off nice and slow to make Anita’s mouth salivate at the sight of her. Wraith makes sure to do it with her back facing her, bending over to unhook it from around her ankle just to hear Anita’s whine at the sight of her ass.

When Wraith turns back around, her breath can’t help but catch at the way Anita hungrily looks at her. Her full lips are already parted and inviting, her eyes moving down Wraith’s body to rest on her cunt where black, soft hair rests and a peek of her large clit from her lower lips, with a thin line of hair up Wraith’s abdomen in a happy trail. Her legs were just as soft with hair, something Anita always made a sight of enjoying by nosing at her thighs and calves.

From there, Wraith sets up the harness and strap on. A thick cock that was red and ribbed with beautiful texture and a tapered tip. The base was black, marbling into the shaft and all in all looking akin to a dragon. Big enough Wraith couldn’t circle her fingers around it anywhere but the head. Just like she liked to feel. She also makes sure a vibrator presses inside the harness, turning it on low to begin so Anita would only get squirmy and nothing more.

“You wanna beg for it?” Wraith hums as she approaches the bed, making sure to grab the harness and strap on. The bed creaking under her weight as she pulls herself onto it to first attach the harness to Anita, delighting in her light gasp and roll of her hips at the light vibrations.

Then Wraith moves to straddle her waist, hovering just above her to ensure that Anita didn’t even get the delight of her wetness. Anita grunts, her lips parting and a furrow to her brow, but Wraith catches her quick before she can quip back at her. Gripping her jaw and guiding her eyes back to Wraith’s with a low growl leaving her. “Wasn’t really asking you, Princess.”

Anita was a bit of a struggle when getting her into a sub headspace. It took a bit of pushing, coaxing, and equal amounts of praise until she gave Wraith that look. Even now with her arms tied above her head and her eyes half lidded, Wraith can see how she struggles to keep her control. How she steels her jaw and clenches her teeth.

It takes Wraith leaning in a bit closer, her breath mingling with Anita’s due to their closeness and their noses brushing. “Beg for it.” Growling from Wraith’s lips before Anita finally lets that breath go and her eyes flutter. And Wraith knows she has her then.

“Please,” Anita breathes, her lips parting and her head tilting to chase after Wraith’s lips when she leans back a bit. “Please let me taste you, please ride my face, please- fuck, baby, you smell so good-”

Her whining is successful. Just what Wraith wants to hear.

She pulls herself up, putting one soft thigh on each side of Anita’s head and threading her fingers into the thick curls atop her head to guide her. When Anita’s tongue slides across her and her full lips seal around her clit, it’s Wraith’s turn to whine. Making sure to grip her curls at the root, Wraith holds her head still so she can hump her hips down against her mouth, delighting in how Anita moans and her hands flex above her head, a beautiful expression overtaking her face.

Her dark eyes look up at Wraith half lidded and clouded with lust, her eyebrows knitted and her lips obediently sealed around her large clit to Wraith could practically fuck her face. Smearing her wetness over her lips, her chin, probably spilling down her chin as well. Wraith couldn’t wait to see her ruined.

“That’s my good girl,” Wraith shakily exhales, her gaze turned down towards Anita to see just how well she licks her clean when her hips hold still. Wraith’s thighs shake with each lick, each spelling of Anita’s name over her clit with a distinct flick at the ending of each ‘A’ spelled. When Wraith tugs her hair, Anita goes right back obediently to sealing her lips around her clit, taking whatever Wraith gives her no matter how hard her hips hump.

When Wraith cums, it’s with a breathy, frantic noise falling into a moan. With a tighter grip in Anita’s hair and her back arched, her thighs trembling as Anita licks her through it with her own moans spilling from her lips. Wraith knew she lived for her taste, knowing just how much Anita got off on getting her off.

When satisfied, Wraith sits up higher to get away from the onslaught, pulling Anita’s hair just like she liked to force her head back and for Wraith to see her. She looked beautiful with slickness smeared across her now glossy lips, dribbling down her chin and how Anita’s half lidded eyes look so hungrily up at her.

“Look at you. Such a pretty little thing, hm? Obedient.” Wraith croons. Putting emphasis on her last word to test Anita’s restraint right now- how deep she was in sub headspace.

A fire is lit up in her eyes, but she doesn’t talk back. A good sign, Wraith thinks, as she releases her hair and makes her way down Anita’s body. The vibrator’s controller is carefully turned up to a medium speed, making the soldier underneath her arch off the bed and tug on her rope with a cry and her hips rolling upwards. It makes the thick cock bob with each roll, a sight that makes Wraith drool.

“C’mon, j-just get on with it. I know you want it.” Anita breathes out, trying her best to sound grounded and not as drooly as she looks. Wraith quirks a brow at her, grabbing the lube from the nightstand to work onto the strap, using her other arm to hold down Anita’s hips. It does the trick in making her let out a frustrated sound, only able to clutch at the ropes and bask in her own labored breathing without a single peep from Wraith.

Anita still keeps trying to get a rise out of her, even as Wraith takes her time lubing her up. “Ya want my cock, baby? Want to be full?” Her voice is low, her eyes purposeful when Wraith glances up at her. She’s still got glossy lips, still covered in bite marks, and she’s trying to get a rise out of Wraith, hm?

Gag her.

Shut her up.

Better things to do with her mouth.

Not a bad idea. One that Wraith takes in stride as she plucks her pretty lacy black panties from the bed and sits up, gripping Anita’s jaw and forcing her mouth open with a press of her thumb. She slips the panties in, pressing down on Anita’s tongue and smiling all too sweetly at her. “That’s better. You’re cuter when you’re quiet.” Being spoken with a light, loving pat of her hand on Anita’s flushed, freckled cheek.

Carefully, Wraith sits back on her hips and guides Anita’s dragon styled cock into herself. There’s always a bit of a sting in the stretch, but she kind of liked the pain of it. Absentmindedly, she reaches up towards her styled hair, pulling it from its ponytail and shaking her ebony locks free as the waves spill down onto her shoulders.

The look Anita gives her is reward enough, with her eyebrows knitted and her eyes looking up at her pleadingly with her mouth full of Wraith’s panties. Her fingers twitch above her head, her back straining like she wanted to touch her so bad. Wraith only hums, pretending she doesn’t notice Anita’s whining and whimpers as she eases herself down inch by agonizing inch with little shimmies of her hips.

By the time she’s finally fully seated, sans the more knotted base, she groans like she’s stretching oh so casually forward. Hooking her fingers around Anita’s jaw like she’s about to kiss her when she leans forward, only to forcefully turn her head to remind her of the tablet sitting on the nightstand recording them perfectly all the way down to Anita’s knees.

“Nnh-” Is the only sound Anita can make, a high-pitched whine as her eyes flicker over the screen with her face burning red. Her dark eyes linger lower on the screen where Wraith grinds and bounces her hips on her cock, moaning directly into Anita’s ear and making her eyes roll back with each bounce. Each bounce forcing the vibrator to press directly to her clit, each grind forcing it against her, each breath from Wraith driving her closer and closer.

Wraith knew just how to push Anita’s buttons. Her lips mouthing at the lobe of her ear and lightly nipping, glancing to the side to see how Anita still helplessly watches the screen with flutters of her eyes. She knows Anita is close already, her breathing starting to get labored through her nose and her body trying to fuck up into Wraith with each grind downwards of her hips to fill her up.

“That’s it- good girl, you gonna cum, hm?” Wraith moans in Anita’s ear, ghosting her lips over the shell of her ear and down her lobe. The noise Anita makes is strained and needy, a high pitched ‘mmh!’ and her eyes rolling back into her head as her eyes unfocus from the screen. Her fingers flex on the ropes above her head, her lashes fluttering and her hips jumping as she begins to cum.

“Keep watching,” Wraith hisses low in Anita’s ear, watching her teary gaze turn back towards the screen to see herself cum. Wraith can only imagine the embarrassment coursing through her having to watch herself helplessly cum and hear herself whimper. Wraith can feel each jump of her hips, forcing the cock deeper into her and making her own breath hitch.

From there, Wraith bounces her hips with hisses in Anita’s ear of, “Don’t take your eyes off me.” “You wish you could fuck me, hm? Wish you could make me moan like you did?” “Such a good girl. That’s my princess, let me hear you.”

Anita responds positively to each one, her eyes rolling back into her head upon her second orgasm and Wraith chasing that high with her as she cums again. Making sure to sink her teeth into Anita’s neck to silence her own whimpering and once complete, she pats downwards until she can turn off the vibrator to silence Anita’s over-sensitive sounds.

The panties are removed from Anita’s mouth, a gentle kiss pressed over her lips and the rope removed from her. Another kiss is shared, then another, then Anita chasing after Wraith’s lips with a soft sound in her throat when she dodges to kiss her cheek instead with a gentle ‘shh’ falling from Wraith’s lips.

Aftercare is to be had after turning off the tablet and saving the video. Wraith makes sure to clean Anita up, carefully applying salve to any bruises on her wrists and massaging her hands where she’d flexed them too hard. Even softer kisses are pressed to each bite mark, carefully wiping off lingering lipstick anywhere and Wraith’s voice gently asking if Anita wanted a shower.

Carefully they make their way to the shower with Anita getting in first and Wraith taking the time to wash off her makeup in the mirror. She ties her hair up loosely with a clip to prevent it from getting wet, entering the shower to see how drunken in love Anita’s eyes are when she reaches for her to drag her close to her body. Her taller body preventing the spray from hitting Wraith and instead pounding on her back.

“Hey,” Anita softly murmurs, her voice hoarse and quiet from earlier.

“Hey,” Wraith murmurs back just as soft, pressing a kiss to her collarbone fondly.

They embrace each other in the warm water for a bit, just lightly swaying and spending close intimacy together. Wraith always liked to be close, letting her fingers trace mindless shapes into Anita’s strong back with water dripping down her fingertips. Taking particular interest in a scar on her lower back that makes Anita hum soft and quiet into Wraith’s hair.

“Dropship picks us up tomorrow,” Anita murmurs with a kiss to Wraith’s head when she hums back in disapproval. “Hey, don’t complain. I’m sure ya miss bein’ able to hunt me down.”

“Mmmh.” Wraith hums back, nosing her way against the top of Anita’s breast instead and letting her hands slide back down to her ass to grab it. It makes Anita choke on a small chuckle, even as Wraith sighs back. “Don’t get this much privacy in the showers, though.”

“Thought you liked being a lil’ exhibitionist?”

Wraith huffs out a laugh, turning her head to press her warming cheeks to Anita’s body at being caught.

From there it’s quiet care. Cleaning up each other with Anita being mainly focused on, working out her tense muscles and rubbing her down with expensive soap. Wraith takes her time on her, murmuring apologies for covering her in her lipstick and getting murmured replies back that it was fine. Gentle hands ensuring no dirt left, and even afterwards Wraith still urges Anita back into her arms to hold each other under the warm spray again.

By the time they get out and clothed into pajamas, the hologram clock reads a blaring 4:00 A.M in red lettering. Anita groans, but that’s quickly remedied by them climbing into bed and Wraith drawing Anita’s head to her chest to gently begin stroking along her shaved sides.

Wraith sighs to herself once Anita is soon fast asleep, her breathing even and calm with her breath fanning across Wraith’s chest. They'd go back to the compound, get settled back in and the new season for the Apex Games would start in a week’s time.

And one day...

Wraith turns her gaze down to Anita, smiling softly down at her.

One day they could forget the games and start a life of their own together.

#Voidstrike #Bangawraith #apex lemons #apex legends #Bangalore #Wraith #Bangalore x Wraith #nsft #lemon #princess writing #commissions

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riversofmars · 4 years ago

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Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your lovely comments, very happy you all approve of my choice of cast lol! I'm still in the early stages of setting up the story so I'm still mulling over some of the details but I think it's coming together. This chapter actually took a lot of restructuring and rewriting but slowly I'm getting there I hope. I really hope it works for all of you, I've re-read it so many times now that I can't see the wood for trees so I'm just gonna post it now and hope for the best lol :D Enjoy!

Chapter 3: There’s Stories About Us

London, late 19th Century

“Why don’t you have a seat?“ To Vastra, the Doctor’s pacing around the drawing room was becoming increasingly irritating. She was engrossed in the file River had left behind and refused to sit down.

“I think better on my feet.“ The Doctor retorted without looking up. It was the first full sentence she had spoken since picking up the file. Her expression was unreadable.

“Is it still five sugars?“ Jenny questioned, pouring tea for everyone, hoping to lighten the Doctor’s mood.

“You do know her well.“ Yaz commented while the Doctor just took the cup without comment and carried on.

“I take it she doesn’t talk much about her past?“ Vastra easily picked up on the hint of jealousy in the young woman’s voice. The Silurian had seen it many times. The Doctor was very private and by neglecting to speak about their past, they tended to make the person they were travelling with feel all the more special. To them it was like they were the first person to experience all the wonders of the universe with them. Finding out about all those that came before them wasn’t always easy.

“She never… I never expected her to have a family.“ Yaz looked over to the Doctor who was still walking up and down the drawing room, mumbling under her breath as she kept reading. She briefly put her cup down on the mantle of the fireplace so she could turn a page. Her brow was knitted in a deep frown, she was restless though more level-headed than before.

“I don’t think she expected it, either.“ Vastra conceded, taking a sip of her own tea. As she watched Yaz’s reactions to the change of circumstances, she felt reminded of the time the Doctor had regenerated and Clara had struggled to adjust to them changing. This situation wasn’t so different, Yaz was struggling as well. They were all going through a big change, and the Doctor even more so than the rest of them. Vastra could tell the Doctor was different from her last regeneration, even without the added pressure of finding out about having a child. This Doctor reminded her so much more of the one they had accompanied to Demon’s Run, than the one they had last seen. It seemed fitting as again, a child’s life was on the line; just one generation on.

“Why does her wife not travel with her?“ Yaz turned to Vastra with the question that had been bothering her.

“Professor Song travels in time as well. Their timelines are not always synchronised.“ Vastra explained, hoping not to reveal too much. It wasn’t her place.

“So like The Time Traveller’s Wife?“ Yaz asked, but found herself looking into confused faces. “It’s a book, do you not… right 19th Century…“ She waved it away but it gave her cause to think. Being out of sync with the person you loved had to be incredibly hard indeed. She remembered crying over that book and she couldn’t imagine this would turn out to be a more cheerful tale.

Suddenly, the Doctor halted in her tracks, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Is everything alright, Doctor?“ Yaz asked as their friend’s face went very white as she stared at the page in front of her.

——

Darillium, 52nd Century

River stirred slowly, a light breeze tickled her nose though she couldn’t remember leaving a window open. The bed was soft and familiar, she stretched her limbs into the silky sheets and hummed contently after a good night’s sleep. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up slowly when she realised something was off. It should not be as quiet as it was; and she should not have slept through the night. The explanation to her questions perched on the side of the bed. The Doctor was feeding a bottle to his son who quite happily curled into his father’s arm, allowing his mother some well deserved rest.

“You can lie back down if you like, we’ve got this, haven’t we.“ The Doctor gave her a soft smile when he noticed her sitting up.

“How long have you been up?“ She asked, her voice sleepy still. She hadn’t heard either of them waking.

“You know I’m always awake before you.“ The Doctor reminded her. River smiled, her hearts swelled at the sight in front of her. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her husband look so utterly content and happy. She wanted to enjoy the moment but a strange, unsettling feeling was seeping into her subconscious

“Yeah but I didn’t even notice…“ She looked around, wondering what was intruding on this perfect moment.

“Everything okay?“ The Doctor asked with a frown. He lay the empty bottle down on the bed and pulled his son against his chest.

“I just…“ River couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like things weren’t adding up. “When did we come back?“

“What do you mean?“ The Doctor started sounding more concerned. He gently tapped and rubbed the baby’s back.

“Vastra, Jenny, Strax… the Library…“ Slowly River’s memories were returning but they weren’t compatible with where she was.

“What are you talking about? Did you have a particularly vivid dream?“ The Doctor chuckled. “Or nightmare, rather, if Strax featured.“

“The sunrise.“ River looked out of the window to see orange and purple stretching across the sky.

“It’s almost time.“ The Doctor nodded with a soft smile. “First light.“

“But we’ve already seen it.“ River looked back to him, confused.

“I think I’d remember if we’d already watched the sunrise after twenty-four years of waiting for it.“ The Doctor retorted amused. “Are you feeling okay?“

“This isn’t right…“ River shook her head slowly. Her hearts sank at the painful realisation. “I’m not meant to be here…“ She wanted to lean forward, reach for her husband, touch her son, but she didn’t dare.

“River…“ The Doctor said but she shook her head more firmly.

“No, I left before I even… and you didn’t…“ She looked at him with sorrow and the genuine concern in his eyes only made it harder. This was where she wanted to be.

“River.“ He reached out for her but she pulled away.

“This isn’t real, it can’t be, I…“ River turned away and closed her eyes, shaking her head to herself. Her hearts ached. She wanted this to be real so badly but she knew better. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

“River!“ This time, the voice changed pitch and River woke with a start.

“Anita.“ River looked up to her colleague, blinking against the morning light. She found herself surrounded by piles of books and notes, back in the artificial reality of the Library. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa while reading last night.

“Considering we probably don’t actually need sleep in here, you were very difficult to wake up.“ Anita pointed out and held out a coffee to her. “Went anywhere nice?“

“You could say that…“ River gave a mournful smile but quickly put her walls back up, projecting confidence and assurance. “Thanks.“ She took the coffee offered to her and sat up properly. “Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it. I didn’t realise we’d dream…“ She gave a wary smile. Though it felt like real life, she couldn’t quite let herself fall for the comforting illusion; not yet anyway. Not while she was still so deeply concerned with what was going on in the universe beyond.

“It feels like real life.“ Anita shrugged and took a sip of her own mug as she perched on the coffee table. “Certainly beats the alternative.“

“Certainly does.“ River admitted.

“So what have you been up to? Everyone was meeting up for breakfast and when you didn’t show up, I thought I’d check on you.“ Anita revealed her reason for being here and River glanced to the clock on the wall.

“Are the kids up, too?“ She found herself asking, almost instinctively.

“Been up ages. CAL said they thought it best to let you sleep, you were in a happy place.“ Anita explained with a smile. She hadn’t taken River Song for the mothering type but she had taken on that role without a second thought. She seemed to be taking comfort in it.

“I suppose I was…“ River thought back to Darillium and the Doctor, the perfect family life they could have had, had she just stayed. She took a deep breath to maintain her composure.

“So what’s all this?“ Anita asked, gesturing at the mess around them.

“Ah, just a bit of light reading…“ River smiled weakly, sipping her coffee. It tasted just like the real deal.

“You call this light?“ Anita laughed. “What are you researching?“ She picked up a sheet of paper that River had been making notes on.

“I may have… lied to you about why I agreed to lead this expedition… It wasn’t just for the money.“ River answered slowly, realising there was little point in keeping secrets now. They would be spending eternity together and River knew she needed a friend. She’d gotten on well with Anita from the start and she wanted someone to confide in. “The Library is the sum knowledge of the universe, as it were, and I needed access. Looks like I got more than I bargained for, eh?“ River joked but the sorrow behind her eyes was easily spotted.

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything but… what’s the point now?“ Anita asked, contemplating her words. “Technically, to the universe, we’re dead…“ She could tell River wasn’t adjusting all too well.

“Doesn't mean that the universe out there stops, does it?“ River pointed out.

“Are you trying to get out of here?“ Anita raised her eyebrows.

“And go where? None of us have a body to go to.“ River gave a bitter laugh. “No… but eventually, he’ll come…“

“Your Doctor? The one from your time?“ Anita asked and River nodded:

“One day, I’m sure of it.“

“And you need all this for when he does?“ Anita concluded, feeling like she was beginning to make sense of the professor’s actions. “So tell me what this is? Maybe I can help.“ She picked up more notes, skimming them.

“They’re stories, myths, every record, every…“ River started but Anita was quick to pick up on one unifying factor as she picked up more of the articles:

“It’s all about you.“ Anita looked up with amusement. River Song had a reputation of course. She was an accomplished archeologist who had published a lot of research. Who would have thought that there were also plenty of books and articles about her, not just by her.

“Some of it. I always told him there were stories about us… he was modified.“ River smiled as she recalled bringing it up with the Doctor.

“The Doctor?“ Anita asked to confirm. “Is he your husband?“ She exclaimed as she continued reading.

“Afraid so.“ River chuckled.

“So are you going to tell me why you’re doing this? Or will I have to drag it out of you?“ Anita prompted, looking back to her.

“This is just the start… it might look like a lot already but really, I’m just a tiny speck of dust in his life. There is so much more I don’t know, so much more that’s in his future and in his distant past…“ River mused. This was just a tiny fraction of the records she’d found so far.

“You’re not just being nostalgic, are you?“ Anita asked, putting the books down to give her her full attention.

“Before I joined the expedition, I received a message from a friend, someone who deals in information. They came to me with concerns about a prophecy and rumours.“ River said, tightening her grip around her mug. “Now, there are a lot of prophecies out there and I don’t pay much heed to any of them, but there was something about it… stories of a Timeless Child that somehow relates to the Doctor, to me… and as it happened, I just found out I was pregnant at the time.“ She explained and Anita’s eyes widened in shock at the revelation.

“Were you still pregnant when…“ Anita was stunned. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“No, thankfully.“ River smiled, touched by her concern. “My son is fine, he’s with some dear friends. He was three weeks old when I set off to the Library…“ She revealed with a sad smile, wondering how the Paternoster Gang was getting on. Surely they were doing an excellent job at looking after her little one… but she regretted her choice nonetheless. She should never have come here.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea.“ Anita reached out and gave River’s hand a squeeze. Immediately, she saw River’s interest in looking after the children in a completely different light. “Does the Doctor know?“

“I don’t know. They may have told him by now…“ River shrugged taking a deep breath to maintain her composure. “God, he will be furious… Hopefully furious enough to come and shout at me in here…“

“So you think your son is the Timeless Child?“ Anita asked, trying to make sense of what River was telling her.

“Maybe…“ River couldn’t be sure of anything. She had found no clues either way, despite her many inquirers; but it seemed like a funny old coincidence that whispers of a child surfaced just as she’d found out she was pregnant. “I haven’t been able to find out much at all, so I’m hoping I can now.“

——

London, Late 19th Century

The Doctor’s mind started racing, as did her hearts. Where, when and how had River heard about the Timeless Child? And why was it referenced in her file? The Doctor hadn’t told anyone about what the Master had revealed to her and she couldn’t imagine the Master would have shouted it off the rooftops either, seeing as he’d murdered everyone that could have known. Even when the Doctor had briefly spoken to Ryan about learning about the gaps in her past, she had never used this term or gone into detail. She hadn’t even filled Yaz in either. Someone out there knowing that exact term couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Doctor?“ Vastra’s voice was sharp, drawing the Doctor’s attention at last.

“Sorry…“ The Doctor snapped out of her thoughts when she realised everyone was looking at her.

“Does something stand out to you?“ Vastra prompted, gesturing towards the file.

“It’s nothing, never mind, just… it’s not related to this.“ The Doctor shook her head, closing the file disappointed, yet unsettled. This was in no way helpful for finding out where their child was or who could be behind the kidnapping. It did, however, raise some very unsettling questions. How did the secret about the Timeless Child get out? Though River might have drawn some wrong conclusions about who it might be, she couldn’t discount the possibility that there might be a connection between the myth and the kidnapping. Maybe there were Time Lords involved in this after all.

“So what do you think?“ Vastra pressed on. “Time Lords or…?“

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t…“ The Doctor shook her head. “First thing’s first. I need to find out where River got her information from.“ The Doctor decided after brief consideration. She rolled up the file and stuffed it into her coat pocket to study more intensely later on. Someone out there - Time Lord or not - knew about the Timeless Child. Maybe, whoever was behind this, already knew it was the Doctor and were trying to get to her by kidnapping her child… There were a lot of possibilities but all seemed as unlikely as each other at this point.

“So can’t we just, like, talk to her?“ Yaz interrupted. “Why don’t we go and find her, your wife, I mean. You must be itching to go. She’ll be able to fill us in far better than…“

“Can’t.“ The Doctor cut in sharply.

“It’s not as easy as all that.“ Jenny gave Yaz an apologetic smile.

“Why not?“ Yaz frowned. “You know where she’s gone, you said earlier: The Library. Let’s go there.“

“River died at the Library.“ The Doctor shot back, anger returning to her voice. Rationally, she knew Yaz couldn’t know all these things, but that didn’t change how she was feeling about it being brought up or having to explain.

“What?“ Yaz was dumbfounded. She looked around into knowing faces and realised she was far out of her depth. There was a lot she had yet to catch up on.

“Well, Doctor, technically, we could try and…“ Vastra started but the Doctor wouldn’t let her finish:

“For all intents and purposes she died at the Library, she can’t help us now. I was there, remember? I know that she didn’t make any great discoveries about the Time Lords while we were running from the shadows. There was hardly time.“ She stated bitterly.

“There must have been a reason for her visit there and she said she would need your help.“ Vastra was getting frustrated with the Doctor’s refusal to give weight to her wife’s concerns and attempts at research. Just because she hadn’t found anything yet didn’t mean she was wrong to be looking.

“She didn’t get the Doctor she was hoping for.“ The Doctor huffed.

“Obviously not, which is why you visiting her now could prove enlightening.“ Vastra countered.

“Sorry, I’m not following.“ Yaz looked to Jenny for an explanation as she didn’t want to interrupt the increasingly tense conversation the other two women were having.

“Professor Song died but she’s not really gone.“ Jenny explained kindly. “The Doctor saved her.“

“I didn’t save her, I trapped her.“ The Doctor interrupted angrily.

“Her consciousness remains in the Library’s computer.“ Vastra clarified which only seemed to infuriate the Doctor more.

“Yes and she has to exist in the knowledge that she will never hold her child again! If I didn’t think she hated me for putting her there before, I’m damned sure of it now.“ The Doctor snapped.

“She will want to help.“ Jenny interjected.

“I will not be the one to tell her her child is gone!“ The Doctor yelled, her emotions boiling over. She had caused River so much pain. She had thought she’d done a good thing when she had saved River’s consciousness only to learn during their next meeting that she hated the idea of being trapped like that. The Doctor already carried so much guilt, she would not add this to the pile. She refused. How was she to break this news to her? “I won’t do that to her. Put that on her while she can’t do anything to help, having to rely on others, no! I can’t do that to her!“

“Doctor…“ Vastra tried to intervene but to no avail.

“No! Not until I’ve exhausted every other option. She thinks he’s safe with you and I will not tell her otherwise until we’ve found him.“ The Doctor snapped.

“If you’re sure.“ Vastra knew there was no talking to her when she was like this. She would come to her senses eventually but she appreciated the sentiment. If at all possible, they should go about things another way before breaking the news to the Professor who would have to watch from the sidelines, unable to help.

“Someone else might have got their hands on Timelord technology…“ Yaz said changing the subject and breaking the heavy silence. Perhaps her not knowing too much about the Doctor’s wife would be a good thing. Perhaps she could look at things more objectively. Tensions were running high indeed.

“It might be more likely than someone surviving the Master’s destruction.“ The Doctor conceded. “But it’s very little to go on.“

“We have to start somewhere.“ Yaz got to her feet feeling a sense of determination. They had to stop wondering about the ifs and buts and start doing something. A child’s life was on the line.

“River started investigating a myth based on some rumours that someone might be after us, after our family.“ The Doctor explained of Yaz’s benefit. “I have a pretty good idea who would have brought it to River’s attention. Perhaps we can trace these rumours back. It’s as good a place as any to start.“ She decided at last.

“Excellent. We shall carried out our own investigation and torture those we find for information!“ Strax stated in excitement as she returned to the drawing room at just the right time. He was carrying several bags.

“Really, Strax, that is not…“ The Doctor started but Vastra interrupted:

“I hope you don’t think you’re going without us.“

“I have packed three types of grenades and the caustic blaster I have been dying to try.“ Strax announced with great enthusiasm.

“And I will get the swords.“ Jenny nodded, exchanging a quick glance with her wife.

“Please, Doctor, we owe you this.“ Vastra didn’t give the Doctor the opportunity to protest. “Let us help bring your child home. We failed you. We won’t fail you again.“

“Let’s go.“ The Doctor wasn’t so proud that she would refuse help offered. She would do whatever it took to get her child back.

#doctor who #fanfiction #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #action/adventure #space wives #yowzah #river x thirteen #river x twelve #twelth doctor #femslash #madame vastra #Jenny Flint #strax #Yasmin Khan #the timeless child

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cicici03 · 5 years ago

Text

Just Listen- Chapter 2

Hey Everyone! I’m so happy that you like this book so far! I love hearing y'all thoughts and hearing what y'all think about my characters. With y'all telling me and giving y'all input, that help find me look at my story plot, and to see if I should tweak it a little or keep it because of your feedback! So continue with the lovely feedback! Just know it is going be a lot of twists and turns in this story.

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As Tre slammed the door behind him all he could do was break down. He is trying to wrap his head around about the woman he loves. With their 14-year long relationship, and five of them years being married, they never fought like this.

Tre was silently praying to God. Lord, what is happening to my marriage? Help us please! As Tre was wiping his tears away, he saw the kids walking up slowly towards him. “Are y’all ready to go.” They all nodded slowly with not looking their father in the eyes. With Tre opening the door, Jakob and Amaya walked to Tre’s Ford truck to get in.

Before Mia walk completely out the door, she looked at her dad with a gloomy face.

“Daddy, you and momma has been arguing a lot. Can y’all please stop or get a divorce.”

Tre felt a pain in his chest as he looked at his daughter. His thirteen-year-old daughter or any of his kids was not supposed to feel like this. With her face looking just like Cierra, all he could do is feel bad.

With that, they both walked to the car with a cloud over their head.

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Cierra finally made it in the office before 7:45 and was not even thinking about what happen at home. However, she was about to give a good old- fashion cussing out to her assistant for messing up a deal that took months to negotiate.

As she walks into her office, she saw her assistant ,Angelo, waiting at his desk looking like a lost puppy.

“Angelo, Angelo, Angelo. Your ass almost was about to go apply for unemployment this morning,” stated while walking slowly to his desk. When she finally stops, he slowly looks up with puppy dog eyes.

“Now bitch, what would you do without my fabulous skills of not helping clean up the shit I mess up.”

Cierra gave a little smile to Angelo, which he knew that he is not in trouble no more.

“What am I going to do with you.” stated Cierra while walking into her office with Angelo following.

“Girl you would not have Ms. Ghetto Fabulous in the building. She will make sure you are getting your coin but will also help you cut a bitch if you need her too.”

Cierra just start shaking her head laughing at what this fool just said. Angelo is Cierra’s cousin, who got a lot personality, and just move to LA because he got kick out of cosmetology school in Houston due to altercation with a client who did not like her hair. With that, Angelo gave her a piece of his mind, but also “accidently” burn her in the process.

Angelo’s mom, Aunt Christy, ask her niece can he stay with Tre, the kids, and her for a while. Like she stated “You know Angelo is crazy. He gave his life to the Lord, but for some reason he has not been delivered from his crazy ways.” Cierra laughed at the statement because she knows it is true. Also, the sound of her sweet Aunt Christy angry, Southern voice did not help that either.

So, Cierra allowed for Angelo to move into the house for a few months, and to make sure he got on two feet so he could move his butt out.

“Do you know when Mike is going to get here for his appointment.” As she stated the words that was coming out of her mouth, Angelo rolled his eyes and just looked at her.

“Now Cierra, you already know I don’t like that man. All he wants to do is tap that ass, get a script from Ebonixs, and tell Hollywood that Trevante Rhodes wife slept with him,” responded as he gave Cierra a look.

Mike Johnson was a new upcoming producer of movies that started Angela Bassett, Micheal B. Jordan, and James Earl Jones just to name a few. Mike was a fine, dark chocolate man that just made any woman legs to open. However, Mike was a man that had a many woman, and was known for climbing over people to get to the top.

“Mike is truly a nice man. He brings many awards and standards for Black Hollywood. He might like to stick is penis in everyone, but he still a person,” said as she strutted to make sure she looks nice for her appointment with Mike

Angelo look at his cousin as she made herself all doll up and smiling. When Angelo move to LA a few months ago, he did not see Cierra look this happy. Oblivious to him and both Cierra and Tre, this is when Tre and Cierra’s marriage start breaking down. Angelo finally saw the smile that he loves, but it was not for the man she has been with since she was sixteen.

Angelo knew something was wrong with Tre and Cierra’s marriage due to him hearing some of the arguments at home before he moved out. Out of all those arguments, Cierra was the main aggressor. One-time Angelo had to intervene after one of those argument almost went too far.

——————————————————————

Angelo was in the passenger side of his date’s car coming from a late dinner they had. One thing is that Angelo absolutely hated the date. First, the fine brother did not want to pay for his half of the food. Second, the man is on the down low and they had to sit in the back. Finally, this is the part that really took him out, the man had three baby mamas.

With that, one of them decided to bring her lawyer to serve him papers because this man have 30,000 dollars in back up child support. That was when Angelo decided enough was enough.

“My nigga, you are a fine, gorgeous black brother on the down low and have back up child support. Please just take me back home before I blow you up,” exclaimed Angelo as he literally jogs with his finger wagging out of the restaurant with his date following close behind him.

“Well tonight was very eventful,” Angelo’s date stated while looking at Angelo with lust in his eyes. As they pull up to the gate of Cierra’s and Tre’s gated community, Angelo got his ass out and walk straight to Ms. Ernie, the security guard.

“Ms. Ernie can you take my ass back home,” asked Angelo with the most annoyed expression on his face. As Ms. Ernie look up from her newspaper with her glasses at the bridge of her noise. She got up and looked out the window and saw the man Angelo has been on date with.

“Angelo, baby, when are you going to stop using Grindr. Baby get like me and use Tinder! I know that got some gay people on there,” strolling out of the booth “I called Casey to take you home, but it is going to take him about thirty minutes.”

Angelo looked at the man, who kept telling him that he loved him and come out the closet for him. Lies. Angelo went through the door of the gate that the security guards and sashay his way to Cierra’s house with a deuce sign in the air.

He heard Ms. Ernie talk to the boy, which she stated “Baby if a black person is willing to walk somewhere, they do not like you! Baby it already looks desperate, get your ass in the car and go on about your business,” cackled Ms. Ernie while pushing him into the driver seat.

After 10 minutes of walking, Angelo finally reach Cierra’s house, which all the lights were off. He looked down at his phone and saw 12:14 a.m.

He looks at the driveway and he realize that Cierra is not home yet. He quietly opens the door and tip toe up to his room. When he saw his bed, he saw heaven itself. He jumped on the bed and just took in the Tide smell of his comforter. As he was about to close his eyes, he heard a loud bang.

With Angelo being from the hood, he fell straight to the floor. Then it was following by Tre’s booming voice “Cierra why your ass just now getting back! Who is it Cierra?”

If Angelo could hear them, then he knew the kids could hear. Angelo tip toe down to see what was happening. Cierra was walking into her office with Tre following close behind her. “Tre it was just a lot of paperwork.,” Cierra sat in her seat and looked at her husband absolutely drained. Tre looked even angrier by her answer.

With that, he picks up the vase on Cierra’s desk and slam it to the ground. That caught Cierra’s attention because it was not just a regular vase, it was the vase that her grandmother Anita gave her before she died.

“What the hell is your fucking problem Tre! Why would you do that you bastard,” exclaimed the horrified Cierra on the floor with tears in her trying to piece it together. Tre did not back down from there either, “She would want to know if you are the cheating on me too!”

“Damn Tre, nobody is cheating on you. Your broke the one thing that I had left of her.” She looked up at her husband and she did not see her husband. She saw a man that personified anger. “I would not be this mad if you just tell me who you are sleeping with! No, scratch that, I am going be piss the fuck off. Just tell me who it is!”

Tre grab her arm tightly and pull her up. “Tre you are fucking hurting me. Get your motherfucking hands off me!” Cierra screamed and started punching him the chest. Angelo finally saw that he needs to intervene.

“Tre, Cierra come on now the kids sleep,” Angelo pushed them both off each other “Please y’all, I know yall don’t want the kids to see you like this.” In Angelo’s years of knowing them two as a couple he never seen them get so angry at each other.

“Tre what about you go and sleep in the guest room. Please Tre, you do not want to do anything crazy man,” Angelo looked at Tre with pleasing eyes. Tre look at Cierra crying hysterically on the floor at the vase. He realized what he done, “Cierra, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Tre back away and took his keys off the table and ran out the door.

Angelo looked at his cousin crying hysterically calling out to their grandmother, “Grandma please help me! Please I need you more than ever.” Angelo saw his cousin heartbroken, all he could do was pull her in closely and rock her just like grandma use to do.

————————————————————

As he is recollecting that memory, Trevante was the main aggressor in that situation. Were there other times Tre being the aggressor? Angelo thought while looking at his cousin still dolling herself up.

After a couple of minutes, Angelo heard to the most annoying voice ever in his life. As he looked at Cierra, she realizes the voice and gave the biggest smile in her life. The voice exclaimed at the door, “Who is that fine, dark chocolate woman over there?”

Angelo and Cierra look at the door and there he was the infamous Mike Johnson. The man stands six foot even, with his all red outfit. This man looks like the red Power Ranger. While Angelo looked at him at the door. Mike walk over to Cierra and gave her a hug. A hug that was longer than ten seconds because Angelo counted.

Mike was whispering in Cierra’s ear and she was giggling like a schoolgirl. Angelo sarcastic cough loud enough for both to let go of each other. “Angelo, can you go to Logan’s office and tell her to rearrange the meeting for 2:00 for me,” Cierra slightly glanced at Angelo. Angelo look at Mike and Cierra.

He walked out the room, but he calmly said something before that last footstep out the door. “Cierra don’t do anything stupid.” With that, Angelo turn around to close the door and look Cierra dead in the eyes. Cierra looked at him, and Angelo could not read her.

Angelo went to his desk and looked at the clock, 8:30 a.m., even though Cierra told him to do something. He was about to sit there and listen for anything that sound suspicious in that room.

After two hours, he has heard nothing, but a couple of laughs, and he even thought he heard somebody crying. He called Logan to come down to his desk.

“Angelo, I heard you was almost heading into the unemployment office,” Logan laughed while walking to his desk. “Logan don’t come for me when I have not come for your fake booty and nose. Can you still breath with those small nostrils?” shouted Angelo while dying of laughter in his seat.

Logan looked at him with looks that could kill if that were possible. “What do your ass want anyway. My husband was about to give me some until you called me saying that it was urgent.”

Logan walked over to Angelo’s desk and sat on it. However, something caught her eye, Cierra’s door was close, and the door is never close until a certain somebody is here. “Is he here,” Logan mouthed to Angelo. “Yes, the hell he is,” Angelo mouthed back. Logan rolled her eyes and just shook her head.

Just as they were about to talk about, Mike walk out of the room. Angelo and Logan both to see if he looks dishevel. However, he was not and that surprise Logan. Logan loves her friend, but she been acting so suspicious. Angelo excitedly thought Thank the Lordt that I do not have to kill homeboy and Cierra.

“Mr. Red Power Ranger what was y’all talking about,” Angelo sarcastically looked at Mike. Mike laughed as he was closing the door. While, Mike was doing that, Logan saw just before the door close Cierra crying.

“Why the hell my friend is crying you Power Ranger,” silently said to Mike so Cierra would not hear. “You got my cousin crying, I hope you know I burn a hoe once, and I am not scared to do it again,” Angelo angrily stood up.

Mike started laughing, “You know what, that is between me and Cierra. Also, tell Trevante I said hi,” Mike amusedly said. “You know what if you even think about sticking your little wiener in my cousin. I will hurt you!” exclaimed Angelo as Logan pull him backed.

“Trust me if I really wanted to have sex with Cierra. I would have already fucked her better than her no good husband,” Mike walked with a smirk walking into the elevator, “Plus Cierra would have already left her husband and her kids would be calling me their dad.”

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So what do y’all think? Is Tre begin some of the arguments? What about Mike? Why was Cierra crying? So many questions that will be answer.

Taglist: @l-auteuse @munteanhore @Ijstraightnochaser @twistedcharismaaa

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Stay In Your Lane || Morgan, Deirdre, Anita, Marley (pt1)

TIMING: tonight

LOCATION: Mortal Pins

PARTIES: @professoranieves @detectivedreameater @deathduty @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: It’s not a double date if you say it isn’t. Everything is fine.

Morgan didn’t mind turning up early for meeting Anita and her mystery girl. She hadn’t been to the bowling alley since that muggy winter outing with Deirdre and all but danced down to reserve a lane for the party with Deirdre. There were no birthday parties commandeering the playlist or half the bowling lanes, only whatever top 20 pop hits Morgan was too unglued from the world to recognize and groups of adults and kids trying to have their own group fun. The beer smell in the carpet that seemed to come packaged wrapped with every bowling alley had gotten worse, made only more confusing by the perfum-y scent of herbs coming from the ball and shoe racks. But it wouldn’t be White Crest if the place was totally normal.

“Does it feel good to be back where we had our first date?” She asked, knowing full well the bowling had been far from the best part of the night. “It’s almost a shame we’ll be on the same team. I can’t make a prize of myself if you win.” She rose on the tips of her toes and pulled Deirdre down into a kiss. “Although I guess we should probably keep the making out to a minimum since we’ll have company I actually want to invite us out again.” She lowered herself and dragged them into the rental line hand in hand. “I think you’ll like Anita. We have fun at work when we take our lunches together, and you and I have fun all the time, and this new girl has her so worked up and out of her comfort zone it gives me flashbacks sometimes. But, she’s gotta be fun too, if she’s keeping up with Anita. According to my calculations, that adds up to an evening well spent. And you don’t even have to order a hot dog this time.”

It was in lacking the allure of a human that intrigued, confused and frustrated her, set against a backdrop that was new, that Deirdre finally realized that the bowling alley was disgusting. It was disgusting the first time, but she could almost forgive it for its newness, and the idea of living up to some dream of a 10 year old's birthday party. Her eyes trailed across the establishment; they'd kissed there, stood in line over there, left holding each other down that way. She remembered, even when she’d thought she wanted to forget it. "Fates, was that a date? I think I liked the dinner we had after much more than the bowling part anyway—our first kiss aside." She also remembered being annoyed and baffled by Morgan, though those days were a memory now. "Why did I agree to this? I hated bowling and I hate people." And then Morgan kissed her. Ah, yes, that was why. She hummed against her, trying to pull her close. "You're always a prize." Deirdre was reminded again how much she hated bowling alleys as a kid—no younger than 13—rushed past them, an 'ew, gross' spewing out of his slushie-stained mouth. Deirdre groaned and reluctantly retreated into a respectable position with Morgan. "No promises. I'm thinking of how much I'd rather just go on a date with you, alone. And how illegal it is to throw a kid down the lane. That's perfectly fine, right?" She grumbled again, shifting nervously. If Morgan was getting flashbacks...then which one in Anita's equation was supposed to be her counterpart? She wouldn't wish that turmoil on to anyone, regretting every moment she spent denying feelings. And, honestly, she was nervous. She wanted Anita to like her, she wanted this to be good for Morgan. She knew a lot about how to charm people, and she could only hope it could work now. "I'd be having fun anyway, Morgan. I always am with you." The kid rushed past again, another 'ew, gross' squeaking out as he went. Deirdre groaned. "Anita better get here before this place becomes a crime scene."

As Anita and Marley pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley, she suddenly had an aching feeling that this was a bad idea. Possibly one of her worst. Thinking back on it all, she wished she never even made mention of anyone to Morgan. Then Morgan wouldn’t’ve suggested they all spend time together. Then she never would have awkwardly asked Marley to go bowling with a friend from work, and they both wouldn’t be sitting in the car about to walk into a … double date? No. No, it wasn’t that because they weren’t dating. Once she got out of the car she made her way over to Marley, instinctively reaching down and slipping her hand into hers. “Thanks again for agreeing to come. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle being a third wheel while bowling.” As they made their way inside, Anita quickly scanned the area for Morgan, who had already texted her that they were there. Thankfully it wasn’t too crowded so she was able to spot the petit english professor fairly quickly. Once they got over towards them, she lightly dropped Marley’s hand so that she could greet the other two women. “Morgan! Hey, so good to see you,” she said with a wide smile.

Marley didn’t know why she’d agreed to this. She never should have agreed to this. When she’d first said yes, she hadn’t thought much of it. But then the more she’d thought about it, the more she realized this was a little outside of the bounds they’d previously set up. And they had been doing so good, too. No weird conversations or arguments or awkward moments in person. Things had been good and maybe that’s why she had said yes. She wanted to spend more time with Anita, even if it meant going on a double-not-date date with her and one of her professor friends. That’s what people did, right? They took an interest in other peoples’ lives? And Marley was very interested in Anita’s life. Not for any particular reason, but there’d always been that pull with her, hadn’t there? It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. Still, hanging out at a bowling alley with another couple seemed...like a big step to Marley. But she wasn’t about to back out now, if only to prove to herself that they weren’t like whoever these other two were-- they were just friends who slept together a lot and sometimes didn’t. When they pulled up, Marley looked over at Anita, giving her a brief smile before sliding her sunglasses on. “Being a third wheel is pretty bad, anyways, I can’t even imagine being one while bowling,” she teased, taking her hand as they headed in. She found it only slightly odd that Anita dropped her hand once they went in, but when she looked up and saw the two people they were heading towards, Marley almost stopped in her place. “Uhh, Anita,” she said, reaching out to try and tug back on her, before deciding the hell with it. She puffed herself up, put on a smile, and strutted up. “Long time no see, Detective,” she said to Morgan with a grin.

In the moments before Anita and her date showed up, Morgan continued to float in her little bubble of excitement and affection. “Mmmm, we met here on purpose, I put on something cute for you, we had fun, we flirted, we kissed, we had dinner somewhere with candles, that sounds like a date to me.” She slid Deirdre’s arms back around her and swayed them as they waited in line, shuffling forward only a few places as a gaggle of five teenagers argued over how many lanes to get. “But, we can do something fun after, though I don’t think throwing children is gonna make the cut. I uh--wow.” The slushie faced child was waggling a dead toe into another child’s eye. “I can appreciate the impulse, but we’re trying to make a positive first impression. But we could mess with the parking meters in town, or take off the labels of canned food and move them around? Or just go home, crawl into bed…” She turned her head back, smiling coyly from upside down.

Then she heard Anita and straightened up, pulling away from her enough to pull Anita into a hug. “Hey! Thanks for coming! You look amazing, as always. Especially this hair?” She fussed with Anita’s waves, nodding with approval. “Gotta look extra nice for your hot date, huh?” She murmured, teasing. “And who is--” Morgan never finished. She recognized Marley on the spot and felt her body temperature drop another few degrees. “Oh. Uh...yeah. It’s funny, right, because of the part where an amateur had to do something your workforce couldn’t handle. That was fun.” She laughed, shrill and nervous as she put her hand out to shake. It was all she could do not to ask Anita right then what on earth she was doing with Marley and did she know she made women cry in her free time? “Didn’t expect to see you here! With Anita. Small town, huh?”

An argument as to why they should just leave and make their own fun sat between Deirdre's lips, caught there as Morgan moved away. The soft beginnings of a whine whistled between her teeth before she remembered she was supposed to make nice, and that this was Morgan's friend. "Deirdre," she introduced herself to Anita with a friendly smile, offering her hand when the hugging was over. "Morgan's girlfriend. It's nice to finally meet you, although Morgan's descriptions obviously put—" Deirdre froze. She knew that voice. It haunted her still sometimes, and the red eyes that sat under her stupid sunglasses. The only thing she could do to keep those memories at bay was to imagine Marley's suffering laid over them—to make her pay, somehow, for even thinking about it. Her body tensed and she took a casually protective stance around Morgan and Anita, who she assumed was some victim too. "Stryder." And there was Marley, in all her dumb, sunglass wearing glory. She glanced between Marley and Anita, smiling with a sinister delight to quell the nauseating fear that threatened to bubble. She might not have known how to kill Marley exactly, but Anita was sure to die like anyone else. And she wasn't above hurting someone's lover to get to them. Deirdre's eyes drifted off to Morgan. Okay, so she was above murdering Morgan's friends. She snapped her gaze back to Marley and her smile quirked into a smirk. She sauntered up to Marley and fling her arm around her shoulders, urging her close and closer to the group. Like an old friend, or maybe someone who was trying to figure out how much Marley weighed and how much effort it would take to throw her down a lane. "You know, the detective here told me that commitment was the least exciting thing in the world once. Something about how she thought it was boring to be in a relationship," she spoke freely to Anita and Marley, playing her part as the happy participant. "I never thought I'd see the day she'd have a date and eat her words." She reached up and pinched Marley's cheek. "So proud of you, Marley-Warley." Now, how did she go about stabbing someone around an audience?

Anita returned Morgan’s hug and grinned softly when she started playing with her hair. “Yes, I do look extra hot tonight. But I’m not here on a date.” The second sentence was said softly, with the intention for only Morgan to hear it, though admittedly she didn’t know if mara had any advanced hearing capability. Not that Marley would object to her insisting it wasn’t a date, but she just didn’t really want to open up that can of worms right now. Though, honestly a can of worms sounded really delicious right about now. As she turned to greet Morgan’s girlfriend, she noticed that both of the women seemed to already know Marley. And judging by their tones and words… it didn’t seem like they all knew each other in the best of ways. “Yeah, really nice to meet you finally, Deirdre.” She shot a quick look over at Marley, trying to assess how bad of a situation this was about to be. Quickly she turned her attention back to Deirdre though, realizing that this whole date topic was becoming central to the general conversation. “Oh, no - sorry if you thought.” She offered a slightly awful laugh, trying to diffuse the situation the best that she could, “We’re not here on a date. We’re just… here to bowl. Because, well, Morgan invited me. And ya know, outings are so much better with an even number of people. But, it’s not a date. And I generally echo her sentiment about relationships.” She didn’t mean to think about it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Marley and Deidre had a history and that was why she was bringing up dating. She tried to shake the thought but it remained. “But, uh, I take it you all already know each other then. And here I was worried tonight would be awkward.” Another awkward laugh followed, and Anita was fully unsure of if she was making the situation better or worse.

Frowning, Marley disintegrated and slipped through Deirdre’s grip before she could reach up to pinch her cheek. Though she stayed visible, she kept herself intangible for a moment longer, just in case anyone else thought it was a good idea to try and grab her. Anita was the only person allowed to do that, and she glanced over at Deirdre, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. She half wished she’d just worn her regular glasses, so that the two women now glaring at her could see her glaring back at them. Why did Anita’s friend have to be Morgan of all people? Not that Marley cared. These people had no say over her. She brushed her sleeve off as if Deirdre touching her had tainted it and shrugged. “The department is a little busy with real crimes, sorry,” she said nonchalantly, “and it’s not a date.” And yet, Anita’s words made Marley’s skin prickle a little. She knew that that was how Anita was, of course, and it wasn’t that it bothered her-- but hearing her say it outloud to other people made it seem much more...real. Clearing her throat, she took Anita’s arm and pointed towards the concession. “What do we say to drinks? You two finish getting the lane, we’ll go grab refreshments,” she grinned, “because I know I’m not making it through this without at least a little bit of alcohol.” Let the words hang a moment before tacking on, “You know, the bowling part.” High pitched laughter half interrupted her. “And the kids part.”

Morgan watched all of this unfold as if she’d been flipped inside out of her mind. This was just some weird sitcom on Netflix. She definitely hadn’t trapped all of them here with Marley Stryder. Deirdre wasn’t glaring daggers and trying to pinch the detective’s cheek, Anita wasn’t looking at all of them like a deer in the headlights and Marley wasn’t leveraging supernatural secrecy and a little murder to make her look like an idiot in front of her friend. Nope! That would just be way too ridiculous! But Morgan’s eyes met Anita’s in the chaos and she knew this was all too real. She gave her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile. One that said, everything’s going to be fine! Especially now that Anita didn’t want this to be a date enough to say so out loud. Maybe she could be dissuaded from more repeat engagements when this was all over.

Looking up at the others, Morgan hated to realize that Marley was offering them a chance to regroup after ruining their expectations of something easy and pleasant. She reached for Deirdre’s arm, tugging her back in a way she hoped wasn’t too obviously protective. “That...Sounds great!” She said shilly. “So nice of you, Marley.” It hurt her mouth to say it, but stars did she need an out. “No booze for me, but everyone who drinks, uh, knock yourselves out. It’s a night to party, right? Oh, look! We’re almost next!” She edged her way back and looked at the shoe rack with exaggerated interest. “Stay and help me with the checkout, babe?” She asked Deirdre, squeezing harder, just in case it wasn’t obvious she wanted her to stay.

When the others were gone she let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Okay, obviously, this is a pretty big twist in our wholesome plot. However, the plan is still to be nice and make sure Anita’s still my friend by the end of this. Unless Marley tries to hurt you again, in which case, I’m pitching a salt shaker at her. Or some fries. If I order fries, will you eat them? Unless-unless, you want to go home and I can be the third wheel. Which, yes, would be very painful, but I could deal.” She looked up at Deirdre, trying to keep the plea out of her face and failing.

Perhaps it was the humiliation, the disrespect or the content of the vision themselves. Maybe it was being rendered helpless that way, or Marley’s lack of empathy after--the disregard of an apology. But to say Deirdre hated Marley was a severe understatement. Her hand phased through Marley’s skin and she noted that, just as she did Marley’s reaction to her prodding. She watched her just the way she would any future victim; any vulnerability to unearth, any information she could wrap her hands around. She wanted Marley dead, that was the only way to justify her trauma that she knew. It didn’t matter to her then if Marley actually liked Anita; she was evil, and her mind would not stray from that opinion. She smiled back at Marley and Anita as Morgan tugged her along, she said nothing and her eyes remained glued to Marley even as they moved away. How could she ruin this? How could she make Marley suffer? Morgan’s voice cut the fog of her rage and she snapped her attention to her girlfriend, her mouth stuck in a saccharine smile and her eyes blank as she refused to stir from thoughts of murder--thoughts she made poor buisness of hiding, her hand locked in a too-tight grip to Morgan’s. “That’s right, mara don’t like salt. I remember Evelyn saying something about that. I could gouge some salt into her---”

And then Deirdre remembered why she was here, and blinked her fury away. She slumped, gripping Morgan tighter. “Sorry. No--No. I can see this through. I can---Anita is your friend. I want to make this good for her I just---” Deirdre sighed, shutting her eyes with the foolish hope she could flush away memories of the night she met Marley. She shivered. “Do you think Anita is in danger? Do you think that Marley is---” She couldn’t finish the thought. Nothing she knew about the mara told her that she would care to be good to someone like Anita. Nothing in her body agreed with it. “Get me whatever is strongest there!” She called out to the not-couple, trying to hide her body’s reflexive terror at the sight of Marley the best she could from them. “I really, really don’t like Marley, but I can handle this. I’ll stay.” She assured Morgan again, leaning down to press a firm kiss to the corner of her mouth and then turning back to the task at hand. “Just...don’t be mad at me if I throw a bowling ball at Marley.”

Anita briefly caught Morgan’s eye while Marley and Deirdre were… interacting. This wasn’t good. Of all her fears as to why going on this bowling outing was a really awful idea she never thought that ‘Marley has some strange beef with Morgan’s girlfriend’ was even an option. She was racking her brain for something to say to attempt to diffuse the situation when Marley started directing her towards the concessions area. This was good, taking a few steps back to hopefully figure out what the hell was going on. And to get some booze, that would help too. “Hey, so uh…what the fuck is going on?” She asked, wrapping her arm into Marley’s as they made their way across the awful abstract carpeting. “Do we need to bail? Is this gonna turn into like … a big mess?” Sure, slipping out and not returning would be incredibly rude. But Morgan would understand, wouldn’t she? As much as she hated to admit it, Anita wasn’t the type of person to have many platonic friendships. And even though they were quite flirtatious, that’s what they were - friends. Good friends even. Anita didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, but she also could practically feel the disdain radiating off of Marley and Deirdre. “If I had known you had history with her girlfriend I wouldn’t have invited you, I swear.”

The banshees eyes burrowed into Marley like bullet holes, and she had to look away to keep the feeling from splintering all over. She wasn’t sure why that odd feeling was needling at the back of her neck again-- that same feeling that made her confess to Anita after they’d argued, or after she’d accidentally fed from Lydia-- but she wasn’t about to point it out or acknowledge it. The distance between the two couples-- er, pairs-- helped ease her muscles a little, the tension fading even more so when Anita’s cool hand slid around her arm and fingers intertwined. She looked at Anita as they made their way across the gaudi carpet, lined with what she assumed were patterns a mother from the 50s would appreciate, and up to the popcorn and concessions counter. It smelled more like the charred remains of the kernels and the butter used to pretend the lifeless snack had any flavor, but they weren’t here for that. As it turned out, the entire party was human-food adjacent. As far as she was aware. Whatever it was that Morgan was, she didn’t seem to need sustenance either. Just the alcohol, then. Her eyes settled on Anita. “No,” she said slowly, even though the rest of her begged her to say yes. She wanted to run, she wanted to go back outside where it smelled like ocean salt and dead leaves, instead of staying stuck in this pit of stale socks and warm beer-- but Anita had seemed excited to hang out with her friends, and Marley wasn’t about to deny her that. Anita deserved a good night out, after all, and if that meant gritting her teeth and bearing a grin through the banshee she’d tormented and the girlfriend who wanted to rip her head off, she would do it.

“No,” she repeated again, this time more firm. “I can play nice, promise. And if it seems like they don’t want to, I can just dip. It’s fine,” she gave a little lopsided grin, trying to be reassuring. “I don’t wanna ruin this for you.” Even though she ruined everything. This, for some reason, seemed important to not ruin. When the greasy teenager came up to take their order, his outfit more striped than any mimes’s, but boasting far too many colors, Marley ordered two pitchers, before turning back to look at Anita. “And uh-- it’s complicated. I’ll--” her eyes fell on the two across the lane, standing in the line together. Their arms were wrapped around each other, their bodies sitting together almost perfectly, like they simply fit that way and life made sure to let them fall into each other. As if they were simply made for each other. Another strange pang tugged on her sternum, on the space beneath it, and she looked away quickly. Whatever they had, she never would. Marley wasn’t capable of feeling that. Her arm instinctively wrapped tighter around Anita. “I’ll tell you later, as long as you promise not to hate me for it.” Just then, two pitchers and a stack of shameful, plastic cups were set on the counter before them and Marley found herself glad she hadn’t gone for the wine. She wasn’t picky, but plastic ruined the flavor.

Picking up the two pitchers, and leaving the cups for Anita to grab, she turned back towards the alley, nodding in the direction of the other two, who were now heading towards what she assumed was their lane for the night. Just grin and bear it, she told herself. For Anita.

Morgan side eyed the pair at the drinks counter, barely holding in her grimace. “Anita can handle herself. I don’t know what she is, but she’s a part of our crowd, so to speak. And I think if Mara had any pheromone stuff, Evelyn would’ve mentioned it. And, you know, she’s not even the type who gets attached easily. She doesn’t ‘do’ relationships. And she knew that rule one is no repeat engagements, and I know this because we talk about exploits--tastefully--over lunch. Whatever this is, it’s real, or as real is it can be with Marley lying about what a dickbag she is to everyone else. I mean, that’s gotta be it, right?” She paid the cashier for their lane and ordered an extra large plate of fries, with a pair of paper sauce cups filled with salt on the side.

As they waited off to the side for their order to be filled, Morgan gave Deirdre’s arm a squeeze, resting her head against it. “We’ll play one game, I’ll bond with Anita, and we’ll call it an early night, by which I mean, you get to decide what’s for real dinner and if you want to change the numbers on the parking zones, or just go home and let me do whatever you ask in bed. Also, you know, if you change your mind later and need to tap out, that’s fine too.” Their plate arrived, along with the size bowling balls and shoes they’d asked for. Morgan hefted hers with her new strength, taking a little joy in the astonishment on the attendant’s face as she spun it between her hands. “And uh, while I don’t think bowling ball to the mara should count as a first tactic, I think I can safely promise that whatever it is I’ll feel, it’s definitely not gonna be mad.”

She came down to their spot, all the way at the end of the lanes. The place was so busy this weekend, there wasn’t any other space except next to the teenager party, and the evening didn’t need to get worse by playing there. Morgan put on her best friendly face and waved at Anita and (regrettably) Marley as they came to join them. “Hey! Thanks for getting the drinks. At least the beer looks good and cold.” She plopped down on the seat and started putting names in, keeping her attention mostly on Anita. Ever since Rebecca went off on another stupid lead, she’d been lonely with just the surviving TA bros for friends. This had to work. She needed this to work. “We already got your shoes, just need to go find the sizes you want. And there’s snacks for the table to munch on! Sometimes it’s nice to have something to occupy yourself with between rounds. I’m thinking two teams in pairs? Prof versus prof, with each of our...gal pals as our teammates? That should make things even and fair. And like all super reasonable adults, we just play for bragging rights. I’ve played uh, three or four whole bowling games in my life? So I’m feeling pretty snazzy. How about y’all?” She did her best to keep her tone light, to focus on the good and not make this too strange, but she couldn’t help but slide her gaze over to Marley to make sure she wasn’t doing anything underhanded.

“I don’t mean physically, Morgan…” Deirdre grimaced, she didn’t want to imply anything about Marley but….she was doing exactly that. It was easy to fake interest, easy to string people along---even those who thought they would never want a relationship. She’d done it before; what was stopping Marley from doing the same? “I remember what she was like when she---” Deirdre swallowed. “I don’t think it really matters much how capable or smart Anita is, if someone like Marley---” She cut herself off again, daring a glance back at the couple-not-couple. “I’m just worried about your friend, that’s all.” Or maybe she just struggled to believe someone like Marley was capable of a healthy more-than-friendly relationship with someone. Then again, she never thought she was either.

But Morgan was here, pressed against her and soothing. She wondered for just a second---before she regretted it---if Marley and Anita felt this way too. “No,” she shifted, anchoring their bodies together the way they knew best. “I mean--I can do this. Anita is your friend, and we don’t need to do any of that on my account.” Deirdre leaned down to steal a kiss, lingering as she continued. “But I’ll take you up on having some fun to ourselves later.” She watched with a smirk as Morgan spun her bowling ball, pride swelling in her as astonishment settled into the attendant. That’s my girl, she felt like bragging, but had enough sense not to. That poor employee had at least a couple more hours of their shift to slog through, they could probably do without Deirdre boasting about her amazing girlfriend. Instead she snaked her free arm around Morgan’s waise, overcome with a sense of ease. “You’re right. Salt to the mara should be the first tactic, or is it knife to the mara? Salt knife to the mara. You’re a genius, my love.” Everything would be okay, because Morgan was here. Marley couldn’t hurt her, Marley wouldn’t.

And then she did something she knew she’d regret. “I’m sorry,” she held her hand out to Marley as she approached with Anita. “For being weird. Whatever happened between us, it’s all in the past, isn’t it?” She smiled politely, offering Anita a look of apology as well. Of course, she knew it wasn’t her fault, and of course, she was still fantasizing about the pleasures of stabbing Marley but this she did for Morgan, and for the sake of not ruining a friendship she must have cherished. “Right?” She gestured to her hand, insistent that Marley take it and accept her unnecessary apology. Except her eyes painted a different story as they met Marley’s: I want to dismember your body and bowl each part down the lane. Then her eyes fell to the salt and the fries: I don’t even know where I’ll stick those but I’ll stick them somewhere. “That sounds perfect, my love,” she smiled at Morgan, done with her silent threats. “But we could make it more interesting. Bragging rights are one thing.” And a fae with the power to bind people to their competitions was another. And she would win, of course. She could scream and knock those pins down and none would be the wiser. Of course, all of her ideas of a bet involved stabbing Marley. “You know, I’d like to be able to ask one question, and get complete honesty. That’s it. A worthy enough bet, right?” She looked between Anita and Marley. “Unless, of course, you’d both rather be boring.”

Anita smiled softly when she felt Marley’s arm tighten around her. It made the awkwardness of five minutes ago seem to slip away and she let out a soft content sigh. “Of course I won’t hate you.” She pressed a quick kiss to Marley’s cheek right before the concession employee placed the beer and cups down in front of them. She grabbed the cups off the counter, thanking the worker who seemed very disinterested in being there, then following Marley back to the others. “I didn’t know bowling could be played in teams, honestly. But yeah! That sounds good to me.” Maybe making it teams would be better, hopefully Marley and Deirdre wouldn’t have to interact much and the rest of the evening could be wholly uneventful. “Three or four times? Well, shit, you’re practically an expert compared to me.”

She began to pour out four cups of the beer, looking up cautiously as Deirdre approached Marley. Whatever happened between them, it was clearly a long and complicated story. Something Marley was worried she would hate her for. Which was pretty ludacris considering all they’ve been through already. But she seemed like she wanted to move on, put it behind them. Anita smiled over at them then reached over to hand Morgan a nice full cup of the beer. She gave her a little hopeful smile, maybe naively thinking this night would go better than the first introductions might have implied. Deirdre’s suggestion made her a little nervous, honesty was a valuable commodity, and not one she liked to share. But Anita wasn’t about to be called boring. “Alright,” she said with a shrug then looked over towards Marley. “And when we win, we get to ask a question. What’s the fun in a bet if it's not reciprocal?” Very quickly she realized she probably should have consulted with Marley before accepting, but she knew she wasn’t one to turn down a challenge.

Salt. She hated salt. It sat on the table in front of her in those stupid little pinfolded cups mocking her. Marley scrunched her nose, sitting as far away from the plate of fries as possible. As she sat, she noticed that almost everybody’s eyes were on her, and Deirdre had extended a hand-- and an apology. She blinked, staring at it. There was no way it was genuine, and the look on Deirdre’s face told her as much. Still, she stood and took her hand. She didn’t like all of this attention. Normally she didn’t mind it when people’s eyes were on her if she knew they were someone she could get something out of, but she liked being able to disappear into a crowd better. Literally being able to turn invisible helped with that. But she was used to slinking around in the background, to not being noticed. To dictate from the shadows. All these eyes on her made her skin crawl. You couldn’t disappear if people were watching. Marley finally met Deirdre’s eyes, surprised to find the banshee holding her gaze-- most people flinched the second time around. She tried to smile. “Right,” was all she said, before turning away and sitting down. Fine, if they wanted to look at her, she’d give them something to look at. Anita had already agreed them to the bet, and she wasn’t about to back down, despite never having bowled in her life before. She stood, her cheek burning where Anita had kissed her, and tugged her “gal pal” closer. “I’ll go get our shoes,” she said, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. Partly because she found herself burning to feel her, and party because she knew it would make the other two squirm. She gave them a wink before walking over to the counter to get their shoes.

Morgan was glad to every power in the universe that she didn’t have the blood circulation to blanche or blush. That didn’t stop her eyes from bulging when she saw Marley kiss Anita with the same casual affection she gave her girlfriend. She had definitely done things like that with Deirdre without them technically being a couple, but she had also definitely been helplessly in over her head with love and affection. And, yes, that had been her guess before Anita revealed her mystery lady’s identity, but now that it was Marley and not some nice random preferably-supernatural stranger, she had started to hope that all the ‘not a couple’ talk had been true! No romance or abiding affection here! Just good old fashioned meaningless sex and hang time! Grown up BFFs, at most. She stared in spite of herself, her eyes following Marley as she left. Then, catching herself, her eyes landed on Deirdre, a ‘did you see that?’ look on her face, before finally finding Anita. This was fine. She could do this. She could be grown-up enough to make grown up work friends.

“Really? Not even a kid’s birthday party game? Well in that case, I at least gotta give you a few freebie pointers during my round, c’mon.” She crooked her finger at Anita, smiling coyly. Maybe the key to this was threading the needle between completing her real objective (making better friends with Anita) and playing some light interference in the interim, however much was really needed anyway. And if Anita was monopolized, there wouldn’t be as much time to watch...whatever what she’d just seen was.

The pins were set up as the game started and Morgan hefted her ball into the right grip. “Okay, so the trick is to follow the arrows on the lane with your eyes and finish with your wrist. Uh, this ball is maybe a little heavy for you to try with, but you can just use yours on my next round. Now, hypothetically, with the right start, you just have to run up, arm high, and…” Morgan flicked her wrist and released the ball, sending it flying into half the pins on the right. “What do ya think? Ready for your freebie?”

Deirdre did have the blood circulation to blanche, which she did promptly, barely keeping herself from gawking. And then she blushed with rage, shaken away only as her eyes met Morgan. She didn’t like what she saw, and what she saw was Marley having a good time. She must have done that on purpose, she must’ve. But as she reached to Morgan for comfort, her hands met the air, and her confusion was turned towards her girlfriend, who was understandably interested in the friend she wanted to be closer to. She suppressed a remark of surprise, and whatever she could of a hint of betrayal, and sat down to watch. Yet, unsure of why she felt weirdly uncomfortable, she turned to watch Marley…who also made her uncomfortable to look at. And so she crossed her arms, kicking her long legs one up over the other, and looked away from Anita and Morgan to try and fantasize more about flaying Marley. But a perverse sense of curiosity kept her looking back.

For a split second, Anita was too shocked that Marley had actually just kissed her in front of other people to kiss her back. But it didn’t take long for her to quickly regroup and return the kiss before Marley pulled away to go grab shoes for them. Thankful she was unable to blush, she turned back towards Morgan, hoping the slight awkwardness of that moment wasn’t too apparent. “Well, I wasn’t really invited to many birthday parties as a kid. Which sounds far more depressing than it actually was, I promise.” Anita replied, smiling and trying to remember that she came here to have fun, not to be confused by Marley. After all, she did that just about every other day of the week. “Pointers would be amazing.” She watched Morgan intently, for a moment forgetting that her girlfriend was sitting only a few feet away from them. “Wow, you have really good form for someone who’s only played three or four times. But I don’t know if I’m ready to try just yet, I might need to watch you do it again first.” She was mostly joking, after all she did have exceptional hand-eye coordination. So she picked up a bowling ball that felt like a decent weight, then lined up in front of the lane ready to mimic Morgan’s movements. After lining herself up, she ran up to the lane, then swung her arm high and released the ball. It traveled down the lane knocking a modest number of the pins down. “Huh, not as bad as I thought it was gonna be.”

Marley turned around and instantly hated what she saw. There was Anita, right up on the lane with Morgan. The tiny woman was giving her “pointers”, moving closer to her, showing her how to throw the ball. She bristled for a moment, entirely sure that if she were a cat, she’d be sporting a puffed tail. Behind her sunglasses, though, she could pretend she was smiling instead of glaring. She loudly dropped the shoes on the table then sat back, abstaining from removing her own until this little show ended. Folded her arms over her chest and watched, slumped in the chair. After a moment, she stole a short glance over at Deirdre, wondering why it felt like eyes were scanning her and found her peeking her direction as well. Was she as ruffled by this as well? Marley turned to look away, furrowing her brow. She didn’t quite like the idea that she could agree with Deirdre on anything, but here she was. That stupid feeling needled her stomach again and she leaned forward, elbows on the table, looking at the fries and the cups of salt. “You’re a natural,” she said loudly, before pushing the tray further away from herself-- the far half hanging almost all the way off the table now-- and grinned over at Anita. “Looks like we might have a shot at winning this.”

Morgan watched Anita’s ball topple the majority of the pins, eyeing her, impressed with the turn of events in spite of herself. “Okay,” she laughed. “For someone who’s never done this before, that’s pretty impressive. I’m starting to wonder if you left that one standing just so I wouldn’t get too much of a prize out of your score. But, I am glad this is going to be a good game, professor.” She said the word with an exaggerated affectation, waving her arm into a bow as frilly-sleeved friendly duelists might have done. “You know, Detective, y’all just might,” she said, too delighted to put much of an edge to it. “But, then again, my girl has game too, so it’ll be a close one at least.” She plopped down into the seat next to Deirdre and kissed her cheek. “Isn’t that right, babe?” She said. “Your turn, show ‘em who’s boss.”

Okay, Deirdre decided, she really didn’t like this. But she didn’t know why, she turned to Marley and tried to ask her what it was before she remembered that she hated Marley, and she’d sooner go back to watching the strange torture of Morgan and Anita. And then Marley pushed the tray away, and Deirdre snapped to her side, leaning forward just the same---collecting herself just enough not to seem anything but casual. She swung her arm out, pressing her fingers to the cheap plastic and dragging it closer to her. “I’m not sure you’d call it natural talent when she’s getting coached,” she mused, slowly slipping a fry into her mouth. Fates, these things were salty. “Want one?” She dangled it out in front of Marley, seemingly wanting to feed her. But she leaned in instead, unsure what kind of supernatural Anita was, and if that version of supernatural was also gifted with super-hearing. “Does it…look weird to you too or is that just me?” She was genuine, and sincerely confused. It felt like jealousy, almost, but that was an absurd thing to feel. But she nearly could feel the burn of Anita’s gaze as if it were her own, and she knew the notes of affection in Morgan’s voice. She popped the fry she was offering into her mouth, and casually turned back to her girlfriend. The affection might have been directed to her now, but it rang with a strange hollowness to her. “Mhm, but you’re pretty good yourself, my love,” she shook her head and planted a return kiss on Morgan’s lips. Must’ve been her imagination; after all, Morgan wasn’t acting any different. Deirdre picked up her ball---she didn’t bother to check the weight in her confusion---and bowled a strike. Except it didn’t feel much like one. Even being the best possible outcome, she slumped and sulked back to her seat. She had another terribly salty fry to collect herself before she leaned into Morgan and put the rest out of her mind. “Your turn, I would think,” she smirked, “remember our promi--deal, you two.” A deal she had seized with her fae magic the moment she could.

As Anita turned back around to go sit down at their little table area, she froze up, only for a split second, as she saw Deirdre seemingly offering to feed Marley a french fry. In her eyes, that only increased the likelihood that the awkwardness between those two was somehow sexual. Jilted lover? Hookup turned sour? In this town, given Marley’s reputation which was nearly identical to her own, either were strong possibilities in her opinion. Without acknowledging any of what she had seen directly, Anita very intentionally sat down in between Marley and Deirdre. “Don’t worry, I never back down from a good challenge.” There was a soft bitterness to her tone, which she instantly regretted. This was just a fun game of bowling, with two friends and their… other friends. She turned to Marley, trying to stop her mind from racing. “So, you think you can keep up with me and my natural bowling ability?” As they were talking she watched Deirdre go up to bowl, a bit surprised that she bowled a strike almost immediately. Clearly Morgan and her girlfriend were more into sporting dates then they were. Not that this was a date. “Well shit, these two might actually give us a run for our money.” She said offhandedly to Marley as she picked up her plastic cup of beer and downed a large gulp of it. “She’s gonna make this awful on us if we lose, isn’t she?” Anita asked the question in spanish, hoping that neither of the other two women would understand what she was saying.

Deirdre was closer to her than Marley wanted and the sudden closeness made her skin crawl. She didn’t like this dynamic-- Deirdre had more power than her in this situation and she hated it. Was this how she’d felt at the Cryptid Corner? Probably worse. Marley understood like no one else what fear felt like. What it tasted like. She shifted uncomfortably, leaning away from the offered fry. “Yeah,” she muttered without even looking at her, “weird is one word.” But Anita seemed to be having fun, and even if her flirting with Morgan made Marley’s insides squirm like fish on hooks, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was happy, and that was enough for Marley to grin and bear through the strange feelings and the awkward glances exchanged between her and the banshee. Deirdre bowled a strike and then it was Marley’s turn and she understood that no matter what she did at this point, that pair of eyes was going to watch her like hawks looking for predators. Sighing, she looked back at Anita. “She sure will,” she said back in Spanish, before standing, “and I suck at bowling.” She made her way up the lane, the awkwardly sized shoes sliding on her feet and clicking loudly on the treated wood floor. She picked up a ball, tried to remember how the others had done it, and launched one down the lane. Though mara didn’t have superstrength, Marley had admittedly thrown it harder than she’d needed. It barreled down the lane, bounced off the side, and knocked down three pins on the left. She winced a little and watched the machine whirr and reset. She glanced back at Anita while she waited for her ball to return, a hint of desperation in her eyes, though she knew no one could see them. A kid ran by in the background, squealing in his high pitched tune, and Marley was reminded why she had to keep her glasses on. She turned back and only half-hearted threw the next ball down the lane. This would’ve been so much more fun if Morgan and Deirdre weren’t here. Of all the people Anita wanted to be friends with, it had to be them, didn’t it? She slunk back to her seat with a paltry score of six pins and sat down, as far from Deirdre as possible. “Must be that left hand spin everyone’s always talking about,” she said off-handedly, nodding to Anita, “careful of it.”

Morgan sensed Deirdre’s discomfort when she left for her turn so breezily and returned without even a hint of smug superiority. “Hey--” she whispered, kissing her temple. “You were amazing, babe,” she whispered. “We got this in the bag, and whatever those two are maybe-flirting about, at least Anita seems like she’s having a nice time.” She shifted her arm so it could lay over Deirdre’s shoulders and play with her hair until it was her turn again. She watched Marly intently, puzzled when she seemed to practically throw her turn instead of flexing for her ‘friend.’ From what she’d seen of the detective, she didn’t take her for the thin skin type, or even the type to back down from intimidation. “They do say lefties have a harder time in the world,” she said, nodding along with the detective. “I definitely found the whole craft scissors part of kindergarten pretty awful. And the desks. But, Anita--” She paused, grinning and wagging her brows her way, “I hope you’re watching what I do with my left hand spin. You too, Marley.” She let her wry smile linger on the other woman as long as her insides could bear before taking her ball and sauntering up to the lane. She took more time than she needed lining up her shot, checking over her shoulder to make sure Deirdre was watching too. She tossed her hair to the side, released the ball and-- knocked over a single pin on the left. Wow. With her last move, Morgan tried to save face, taking down seven more with her next move, but all the attention she’d tried to drum up had already seriously backfired. “Like I said,” she admitted sheepishly, “It’s hard out there for a leftie. But this better not mean you start holding out on me, Anita. On the sanctity of our lunch breaks and everyone we talk shit about, I bet you can get a strike, even if my girlfriend and I do clean up shop in the end. Also, when you do, we have to get good video, so the rest of the science department knows what a badass you are.” She plopped back down in her seat, taking a runt of a fry and chewing it thoughtfully. “Tell me what’s bugging you after your turn, yeah?” she whispered to her girlfriend.

Oh, Deirdre realized, she was making Marley uncomfortable. There was some irony in that. Or a lot of irony. That was the person that attacked her, more or less. And now she was uncomfortable with some whispering and leaning in? The banshee watched with amusement as she sat as far as possible from her, trying her best not to laugh the more she looked at the scene. She’d wanted to explain that the only reason she cozied up to Marley was because she looked like she was going to knock the fries over, but she suspected that it didn’t matter in the end. She didn’t know any Spanish but she imagined that their conversation went like this: ‘wow, Deirdre is really cool’ and ‘yeah, I know. Also I’m evil.’. Of course, that probably wasn’t the case, but as with most things, Deirdre had more fun imagining. “It’s nothing,” she kissed Morgan before she stood for her turn, figuring she might as well just explain it now, “the fries are just as salty as advertised, I suppose.” And then she bowled her turn, which went poorly, and then played it off as giving them a fighting edge. The truth was, none of them were good at bowling it seemed. She watched frame after frame go by with abysmal plays and neck-to-neck scoring. Deirdre was only good when she was distracted, and not trying to bowl the way she threw a knife, which happened just often enough for them to inch into a lead---and then a very big lead. She had far more fun cuddling up to Morgan between rounds, deciding to keep their affection more subdued for Anita’s sake but being unable to wholly stay away from her. On occasion, she would spew the odd smart comment, feeling more comfortable with her wit the more Marley seemed uncomfortable. Marley, for the most part, she left alone. “You know,” she said, picking up on Marley and Anita’s competitive edge enough to know how much light-hearted trash talk she could get away with, “you two are going to lose unless you bowl some consecutive strikes. But I heard losing is in vogue now anyway right?”

As the evening wore on, Anita began to enjoy herself slightly more. Mostly thanks to Morgan, who either knew the history between Marley and Deirdre, or had a killer poker face. However, despite the fact that she was mostly enjoying bowling, she was also astutely aware of how little fun Marley seemed to be having. She felt bad but she also couldn’t help but wonder why she decided to stick around even after Anita offered her an out to leave earlier. Was that what people who were sleeping together, but being together wasn’t always about sex did? Endured something they didn’t enjoy because the other person did? She didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought though. “That’s only something that people who lose say to make themselves feel better.” She retorted at Deirdre with a slight smirk. “And for all your talk, this really comes down to this last round. Anyone’s game still.” She stood up and made her way over to the machine that spit the bowling balls back out after each roll and picked up the ball she had been using. It was the last round, and even though it was just a silly little competition between mostly-friends, Anita really wanted to win. Unfortunately for her, she had been getting progressively worse in the last few frames. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was over thinking it or if it was because her arms weren’t nearly as toned as she had let herself believe they were. As she approached the lane she tried to remember what Morgan had shown her when they first arrived, but despite her best efforts the ball only knocked down a measly three pins. Her next roll wasn’t much better - only snagging one more pin down. Feeling slightly defeated, she turned back to the group with her face scrunched up and shrugged slightly and jokingly said, “Is it in bad taste to wish that you two bomb these last rolls so that my end to the evening doesn't look quite so lame?”

Defeat was inevitable and Marley could feel the bind of their deal wearing in on her already. She hated it. She hated this stupid sport and she hated being bad at it and she hated that she hadn’t taken Anita’s out when she’d offered it. As the night had worn on, Morgan had continued her flirty quips with Anita and each one grated harder on Marley’s insides until they felt raw and she had no earthly idea why it bothered her so much. The salt had remained on the table, but the fries had grown cold. The beers had been drunk, the pitchers and cups now empty. But there was one round left, and if the other two bombed it enough, they had a chance to win. And Marley wasn’t a quitter. She could easily trick one into flubbing a roll, or scare them enough to distract them, but-- her glance fell onto Anita’s scrunched nose and her furrowed brow as she turned back from her turn and Marley couldn’t bring herself to want to potentially ruin it for her. So she stayed seated as she looked over at the other two and waited. “Don’t count us out yet,” she balked instead, hoping her false bravado would throw them at least a little bit, “There’s always a chance you’ll fuck up. That’s the essence of chaos, isn’t it?” She cast a sideways glance at Deirdre, tipping her glasses up just slightly so that the red glow of her eyes was noticeable if you looked hard enough. “And I’m sure you both know a lot about chaos.”

Morgan was almost enjoying herself throughout the evening. There was a video of Anita almost-but-not-quite getting a spare, Deirdre seemed to have settled a little, enough to spar with her wit, and they were almost certainly about to win. “Why, detective!” Morgan said, brightly coy as she made a show of flicking salt from her fingers. “You’re right. I think chaos might just be my middle name.” She sauntered over to get her ball and made her move. Nine pins down. Morgan curtseyed smugly and took her second roll. Not a spare, but she had done as well as she needed to. “I do think the less-than-winning side should get some kind of consolation prize,” she mused. “I’ve been trying out all kinds of weird recipes if you want to be my taste tester, Anita. And I can safely promise that the local mayo is never an ingredient if that makes you any more confident.” She stole a glance over at Deirdre, giving her an encouraging wink, before going back to talk about work and cooking, her attention still turning to Marley curiously. She hadn’t done...anything this whole night, really, except flaunt her not-status with Anita. What was her deal?

The essence of chaos was strong in a fae, and this time, Deirdre met Marley’s red glow with confidence and a sinister grin. She could do absolutely nothing to her here, and she knew that. And if mushroom season had done Deirdre one service, it was amplifying her already chaotic tendencies. And there was no way a mara could know exactly what she was provoking. Deirdre stood to take her turn and with a purposeful stride, she bowled exactly as well as she needed to--no better and certainly no worse. Just to rub it in. With the last of the pins down, the game was over; they had won. Deirdre turned to them slowly, her face twisted with inhuman delight. “Detective, you should know…” Her eyes reflected blankly back at them. Their promise had been set, there was no stopping her now. “...that I deal in chaos. You might think it’s unpredictable but--oh no--it’s practiced.” Like life, like death, like promises that bind. She strode up to Marley in slow, deliberate steps. “It’s nature.” She jabbed her finger at her, looking down at the mara. “And you’ve made the mistake of thinking you know it. So, Styder, you owe me an answer.” This she delighted in dragging out, she let the clueless children around them scream and shout; the sounds of pins being knocked down to permeate the air. When she finally spoke, it was with a drawn out pleasure. “How do you really feel about Anita?”

#stay in your lane 1 #wr marley #wr anita #wr deirdre #wr marley chatzy #wr anita chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #wr chatzy #wr group chatzy #wickedswriting

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rowanelliis · 4 years ago

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hey hi hello i’m SLATER ( they/them ), twenty-five, currently living my worst life on the left coast ( pst ). i bring to you my twitchy, lonely son, ROWAN. he’s a part-time antique lover, part-time dishwasher, full-time ghost whisperer. ( or something like that,, we’ll get to it later. ) he fills the alone ranger plot, and you can find his bio/questionnaire HERE && some quick stats HERE. follow me under the cut for a TL;DR bio and wanted connections !! @phqextras

oh hello again ! as promised, here is the summarized bio, bc i get that it’s long and you have shit to do. that said ! if possible, i would really love if you read THE BIO before/instead of this. it’s just,,, better. and better is better. anyway, here we go !

rowan was born in pleasance to a 22 yo anita ellis and a father who bounced shortly thereafter, but we don’t care about him

he sees dead people! always has. they vary in shape from faded human to amorphous eldritch horror, and they’re supremely unhelpful. they mostly dont talk and the ones who do dont really answer what youre saying, they just say whatever they want. they moan a lot tho. its annoying. he hates them. kinda.

anita was a fraudulent fortuneteller and genuine psychic. she just knew stuff. rowan figures whatever he is, he got it from her.

he loves her sm guys. she was the mf BEST MOM. we’re talking blanket forts. we’re talking homemade stews. we’re talking going to alby’s to try on outrageous outfits they couldn’t afford and then shoplifting some little treasure to delight rowan with on the way out. the BEST.

when he was eleven, he spent an afternoon in the sequoia grove and when he got back he learned that to everyone else, hed been missing for five days

so that was a whole thing

following a years-long downward spiral of her mental health, anita showed up at rowans high school in the midst of a full-on psychotic episode. he was taken away by cps almost immediately and sent to a group home a couple towns over.

when he got back to pleasance at eighteen, she was gone. missing, not dead.

since then hes been devoted to the cause of finding her but its been eleven fucking years and no one else seems to care so he do get down abt it sometimes

his main theory is that it has something to do with the sequoia grove. he thinks that maybe whatever happened to him as a kid happened to her, but on a larger scale.

he currently lives in the house that he grew up in and that his grandparents built, a giant ugly thing that hasnt been updated in any way since the 70s

hes bad at holding a job. hes bad at feeding himself. hes bad at sleeping. hes bad at forming and maintaining relationships. basically, hes bad at being an adult human.

ok so maybe he doesnt see ghosts. maybe his mom wasnt psychic. maybe theyre just crazy. that is a possibility. but its also possible its true. you dont know. leave him alone

ok now the fun part ! here are some connections id like to see for rowan:

actual friends (one or two, three TOPS. hes a loner ok)

i honestly debated whether i wanted him to have any close friends at all but yknow what! hes been in this town for nearly 30 damn years he can treat himself to a friend or two. these would be people who believe him, or at least have an open mind. they could be from way back or more recently. just people he’s comfortable around, and maybe goes to specifically for comfort. he needs a lot more of that than he’s getting.

hookups (past or present)

i think hes kind of slutty?? not in any active kind of way, hes definitely not aggressive or even confident, but he’s so starved for affection that i think he’d have a hard time saying no to anyone offering it. his sexuality is Undeclared but Not Straight, so he’s up for grabs. he’s also weak for...... how do you say..... les milfs. i mean he would never use that word but it is what it is. mommy issues doesnt even begin to cover it. on a related note! if your character is on the amoral side of the spectrum, this guy would be wildly easy to manipulate. just like, brush his hair with your fingers or call him good or whatever. he’s Weak.

exes (maybe one serious, no more than a couple more casual)

here are some great reasons to dump rowan:

will not remember your birthday or anniversary or anything

obsessed w his mom

sometimes sleeps with his eyes open which is creepy as Fuck

usually broke

lives in that fucking house

kissed someone else at your birthday party bc they had really pretty eyes and were standing really close and kinda smiled at him and he got overwhelmed

routinely talks to the air, sometimes aggressively. thinks hes covert abt it. is not.

love interests (look im not actually into planning ships it just felt fair to rowan to balance this out a little)

here are some great reasons to date rowan:

will never, ever laugh at you or make you feel small

will give small, thoughtful gifts for no reason

cute floppy hair, doe eyes

once he feels safe with you, he will do anything for you, any time, forever

lives in that fucking house

you never knew a kiss could make you feel so wanted

maybe he’s special, you know? maybe he’s just something special

( ok that was gay ! now back to your regularly scheduled programming )

people who think he’s crazy (as many as possible tbh)

i know weve got a lot of believers here but honestly,,, even among believers i think hes kind of an outcast. the mf talks to himself. there are like 8 agreed upon stories around town and hes seen waaaaaay more ghosts than that. and non-belevers?? fuggedaboutit. i kinda see this as part of the reason he was rejected from the mystery gang. maybe someone it was like ‘ok im into checking this stuff out but that guys fucking nuts’. idk. what is life without struggle?? without conflict?? boring.

people who are using him for the story (whoever wants)

this could be a writer or reporter, but it could also just be someone whos interested in this kind of stuff. OR again, could be a non-believer who just thinks its entertaining to watch him. could be honest about their motives or straight up manipulating him into thinking theyre a friend or whatever. pretty open, i just think he would be a figure of interest to certain people.

someone who was present when his mom showed up at the high school (someones?)

this isn’t even a connection really so much as just A Thing I Want. i want someone who saw a tiny, angry-crying sixteen year old rowan drag his screaming mother down the hall of the science wing with their own two eyes. student, teacher, visiting alumni, parent or sibling who was at the school for some reason idk. maybe they pitied him and approached him later. maybe it was the thing that made someone decide hes a lost cause. it doesnt even have to ever come up. i just want someone to have that image in their brain. i want them to see it when they see what a mess he is now.

a final note! when rowan was a kid he was pretty open about the ghost stuff, mostly because his mom always believed him w/out question and he didn’t know it was something to hide. after the whole woods incident and the reaction of cps + the cops to his story, he learned to keep that shit to himself. unless he knows your character well, he probably wouldnt have discussed it w them directly. however! anyone around his age might remember the stuff he talked about as a kid or his mom showing up at the school (honestly that was dramatic enough the story may live on in the halls of nwhs today in some form or another). anyone around his moms age (40-50) might know how woo-y and sketchy she and her child were. there are certainly rumors about both of them. also, most people have probably seen him behaving strangely, ie. suddenly rerouting on the sidewalk to walk around what seems like nothing, telling something to fuck off under his breath, or just flitting his eyes over to a seemingly empty space over and over. he really does try to appear as normal as possible, but it’s difficult. i think most people see more than he knows, and more than he would like them to.

#[ roe; DEVELOPMENT. ]#phqintro #mental illness tw #i thought this wouldnt need a single tw #and honestly that would be a first for me #though only one is a first for me too sdjfnsjdfn #i really feel like i must be missing something this never happens #usually its like #just a parade of absolute horror down here in the tags

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xamassed · 3 years ago

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｢ meme / @houseofvaricty ｣

💕for a deep, passionate kiss ( Quill to Anita )

Waiting was torture — horrible, suffocating, mind-numbing torture.

The fact that he had found a way to communicate with her had appeased some of the overwhelming anxiety in her chest, but waiting for him to show up at the spot he had designated made all of the nauseating feelings come back.

And when he did arrive, he wouldn’t find the woman he was used to. She wasn’t stoic, she wasn’t yawning to emphasize how bored she had become during her wait. She fidgeted, she sniffled, she paced. She dug her shaking fingers into her slick hair and muttered to herself. All of what she externalized rapidly became internalized, however, the moment she spotted him out of the corner of her eyes. All the shaking and fretting and constantly assuming the worse was sucked into the deepest part of her heart before it exploded violently and reduced her to a scrunch-faced, sobbing mess.

He looked to be as much of a mess as she was, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his face and slamming her lips against his. It wasn’t a graceful kiss, not by any means. She could hardly breath past their mashed lips and roaming tongues, but it hardly mattered. For five years, she had missed the way he felt. His heat, the scent, the way his stubble felt under her fingers.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed him, but she had been convinced that it was the last. And now that she had him in front of him, she intended to kiss him as often as she could, as intensely as she could, until they had made up for all the time they had lost.

#houseofvaricty #houseofvaricty ; starlord #「 ( anita ; ic ) 」#「 v. dangerous flips and car crashes ( anita ; modern ) 」#「 r. i see the stars and think of you ( anita ; peter ) 」#( anita being a mess after the five years? :) i had to )

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homoose · 4 years ago

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x OC)

Summary: Maggie tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave for being my beta the last two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Maggie’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Maggie never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Maggie was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

No new messages.

…

Maggie dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Maggie breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Maggie laughed wetly. “Oh my god, mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Maggie ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Maggie admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost forty years.”

Maggie heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Maggie hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Maggie dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Maggie closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

Maggie swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Maggie could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Maggie’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Maggie Mae.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Maggie heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Maggie listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Maggie the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

“Hi.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And then I met you, and you…” Maggie let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

“Maggie, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

Maggie nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Maggie. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”