#I HATE THIS! I understand less about New York than I did an hour ago when I apparently knew NOTHING about New York!!

[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Seven.

Happy Monday to you all, besties! Huge thanks as ever for your support and lovely comments. Welcome new readers to the story, too! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,905

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Spring in New York. After months of cold and snow, it was a welcome change for all. It did, however, carry with it a certain shadow. The shadow in question? Filomena Changretta, who would be bringing Luca’s kids over for the first time to Brooklyn rather than him going to them since he and Emily had become an item. He thought it was time his children met the new woman in his life, and by extension, that meant their mother meeting her as well when she dropped them off.  

“She’s going to hate me, isn’t she?” Emily asked, lying in bed with her man a few hours prior to their arrival, Luca only having returned to her four hours ago from attending wiseguy related endeavours.  

He drew his lips in tightly, eyebrows raised as he hummed. “Yeah, pretty much. Not that I care, but yeah. She will.” Her eyebrows pulled together a little more, eyes rounding slightly. “That don’t mean you gotta worry about it either though, doll. Just expect she ain’t gonna take to ya.” 

“You look like you want to say more.”  

He glanced up to the ceiling, sighing. “She’ll likely meddle, tellin’ you of my many misdeeds towards her. It ain’t enough for the broad to have divorced me, taken my house and a massive chunk of my cash. She don’t wanna see me happy with nobody else either.”  

Shaking her head in puzzlement, she continued idly stroking the centre of his chest. “I don’t understand why, though. You two have been broken up for, what is it, a year this month?” 

“It is,” he confirmed, again staring at the ceiling.  

Reaching for his jaw, she turned his head, forcing him to look at her. “So why?” 

His forehead creased, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I shouldda told you this months ago, the exact reason why I wasn’t the best husband to Filomena.” Taking a breath, he had to hope she’d still look at him as adoringly after she knew of his indiscretions during his marriage. “I cheated on her. More than once.” 

“How many times?” she asked. 

“A few,” he uncomfortably revealed. 

Her heart sank to hear his admission, her face falling a little bit, swallowing hard. “I appreciate you being honest and telling me that, but I need to know, have you...”  

“Shhh, don’t even speak it,” he cut in with, turning to hold her face in his hands, kissing her lips. “No, I haven’t. You and you alone is all I want, cara mia.” 

“Am I, though?” she asked, shaking her head with the uncertainty she suddenly felt. If he’d strayed from the woman he’d been betrothed to, the one who had given him his children, too, no less, then what chance did she stand? “How do you know that you won’t?” 

He sighed again, thumbs circling her cheeks in loving caress. “I know. Trust me, EJ. I know ‘cuz you’re everythin’ I didn’t know I wanted, and everythin’ I’ve come to realise I needed. I ain’t ever strayed from you, and I don’t plan on doing so either.” He rested his forehead to hers, continuing. “You ain’t nobody’s girl any longer. You’re mine, but more so, I’m fuckin’ all yours, baby.”  

Truly, he’d given her no reason at all to not believe him, and she had to give him credit, too. He knew that his confession could maybe alter her opinion of him, and he’d revealed it anyway. Filomena could easily have used the information as a spite tactic, and he could have lied his way out of it. Who would call him into question if he did? Most people were terrified of him.  

Nobody would have negated the truth Luca wanted to portray, but what he’d given her was honesty, no matter how ugly. She couldn’t discount him for that. Covering his hands with hers, she leaned to his mouth, kissing him softly. “That was a big gamble, telling me the truth. I see that. It’s just... my history of trusting the wrong people.” 

He nodded, kissing her again. “And I ain’t sayin’ I’m perfect, far fuckin’ from it. You’re gonna have a lot to deal with, being with a guy like me, but me straying is the least of your worries. Trust me on that.”  

They lay in a happy tangle of limbs a while longer before getting up, Luca heading to soak in the bath, Emily finding herself almost pulled in with him after she brought him a mug of coffee, fending him off.  

“No, stop!” she giggled, batting his hands away. “I have eggs cooking out there!” 

“Then don’t be comin’ in here with those damned legs and getting my pulse all jacked up, then!” he spoke, grasping her thigh, Emily pulling his hand away to give him a stern look. 

“Well, the very concept of me being able to walk in means the legs have to come with me,” she teased, leaning to kiss him. “I can’t just disassemble myself like a mannequin and shuffle in here.” 

He snorted, taking a sip of a coffee. “You’d leave one helluva snail trail behind if ya did.” 

She closed her eyes, resting her hand to her forehead, hearing his chuckle rumbling. “You’re filthy.” 

“But you love me.” he called as she exited, still grinning. After he’d dried off and dressed, they sat and ate before continuing packing, the very point of the children getting dropped off with him being so that he could take them up to his house in the Catskills, a nanny, housekeeper and chef also on his payroll (but who stayed in residence with Filomena) going along, too. Angelo and his wife Greta, as well as their two boys would also be up there as well, Emily wondering how big the house was, exactly, to sleep that many people.  

“Hold on, gotta picture of it somewhere,” Luca said after she’d voiced that thought, going into the phone table drawer and shuffling around. “Here.” 

Her eyes almost fell from her skull. “Honey, that isn’t a house. It’s a mansion!” 

He looked completely nonplussed. “Yeah, and?”  

“it’s just the way you spoke about it. You made it sound like a quaint little place upstate, not a sprawling estate!” 

He shrugged, taking the photo back. “A place can be both spacious and quaint.” He then beamed a huge grin, chewing on his toothpick. “And just you wait ‘til you see the size of the bed I’m gonna bounce that pretty lil’ ass all over.”  

A beautiful mansion, and great company to enjoy it with. She had become friends with Greta, Angelo’s wife over the last few months, the women looking forward to having some relaxing time together away from the madness of their daily lives while their men were off hunting. Mostly, though, it was spending time with Luca outside of the city that she was most looking forward to.  

It was a shame that just over two hours later, she’d learn of a spanner being thrown into the works. 

Waiting down in the near empty (save Maggie and the maintenance guy) speakeasy, she watched the black town car containing his children pull up, the kids alighting with their mother. His eldest boy was through the door first, Luca grabbing his head and kissing his mop of black hair.  

“How’s my son?”  

“Not too shabby, pop,” Guiseppe replied, turning to look at Emily. “Woah, check out those stems. What a Sheba, huh dad?”  

Immediately, he found himself clipped sharply around the head by his father. “Less of your lip, boy. And put your eyes back in your goddamned head.” He might have acted in reprimand, but Emily noticed how hard Luca was trying not to look entertained. He’d been much the same at twelve. 

The boy rubbed his head, his brows knitting. “Sorry, I was just saying.” 

“Say less,” Luca warned, opening his arms as his daughter hurried through the door to him.  

“Daddy!” Milania cried, grasping him tightly.  

“Mio piccolo amore,” he spoke fondly, kissing her head. “You miss me?” 

“Always,” she replied, basking in the adoration of her beloved father, her face not so warm as she turned to Emily. “Who’s she?”  

“Hey, enough with the sass. This is Emily, my girlfriend.”  

The word fell from his lips just as the adversary walked in, placing Alessio down, the little boy running to be lifted into his father’s arms. “This is your girlfriend?” Immediately, the girlfriend herself felt her insides prickle with discomfort.  

“Hello to you too, Filomena,” he muttered with sarcasm. 

Her mouth fell open, looking Emily up and down several times. “For the love of the virgin Mary, Luca! How old is she, like eighteen or somethin’?” 

“Twenty-three,” he corrected, his jaw beginning to tighten, handing Alessio to Emily when the child began to struggle in her direction. 

“Hey, little guy!” she cooed, trying to inject a little lightness, the tension rapidly thickening between her man and his ex. Also, for the sake of her nerves. She truly wanted no part of any conflict between Luca and his ex. “Oh, goodness, aren’t you cute! You look just like your daddy, don’t you?” 

“I do!” he announced through a gummy grin, beginning to fiddle with her necklace. “You smell like flowers.”  

“Oh god, she’s a child, still!” Filomena exclaimed, her voice filling the space shrilly. Emily couldn’t even look at her, so kept her eyes on the little boy in her arms as he chattered to her, feeling supported by her man touching a supportive hand to her back for a second. 

Luca rolled his eyes at Filomena’s observation, beginning to gesture with his hands. He always did when he was becoming agitated. “Don’t start this right in front of ‘em,” he warned. “She ain’t a kid, I know exactly what you’re doin’, Fil. She couldda been thirty-three and you’d still take issue.”  

“Hey kids! The soda place up the block will be open now, how about Emily and me take you guys up there, huh? Come on, let’s go!” A rapidly moving Maggie spoke as she approached, Emily breathing a sigh of relief to be saved like that. Also, she was of the same opinion, that the children really didn’t need to witness their parents about to verbally tear one another to shreds.  

“I’ll see you in a little while,” she spoke, Luca nodding as he leaned to kiss her quickly.  

“Thank you, mi amore.” he spoke, nodding with gratitude at Maggie as well as she herded the two biggest of the brood out, little Alessio very content to be carried.  

Filomena at least waited a beat until they were all out the door before her head swivelled around again, fixing Luca with a snarl as she scoffed. “Mi amore? You can’t be serious about that kid.” 

“Wouldn’t be havin’ her meet my children if I wasn’t. You need to fuckin’ knock it off, too, callin’ her a kid when she ain’t.” 

She scoffed again, shaking her head. “She’s twenty years younger than you!” 

And therein was the problem. “Yeah, and don’t that just chap your ass, huh, Fil? Jealousy ain’t ever looked good on ya.”  

He had her there, his ex-wife chewing her cheek in fury at the slowly delivered, condescending drawl, incensed over the fact that the first woman he’d gotten serious about after her turned out to be fifteen years her junior. And a knockout. Still, she had an ace up her sleeve left to play. “Well, I suppose I’ll get to know all about her over the weekend. You don’t gotta nanny, Sylvie is sick with a cough so it’s gotta be me lookin’ after ‘em.” 

What?  

“No way,” he warned, pointing at her sternly, “ain’t no place for you up there with your meddling. Forget it.” 

“Can’t,” she spoke, her mouth twisting into a sinister grin, “Alessio has an ear infection, needs his drops puttin’ in every four hours. Are you really tellin’ me you’re gonna be available for that, every four hours, for the next three days?” 

“I’m his fuckin’ father. Of course, I will,” he hissed, looking at her with fury. 

She laughed, and it set his fists to clenched, flexing his hands as he began to pace before her. “You ain’t gonna be around! You’ll be off hunting in the day with Angelo, and riding your new filly all damned night! No, I’m not chancing that it spreads to his throat and eyes, too. I’m comin’, and that’s the last of it. You know how he don’t like being away from his mommy when he’s sick.”  

His gaze cast up to the ceiling, taking a long, deep breath. He hated that she had a point. She wanted his temper to blaze, though, for him to yell, to lose control of his emotions. It was what she thrived upon. So simply, he didn’t let her have the win. “Fine, come along if you must, just stay outta my way. Choose a bedroom as far away from mine as you can get, though, ‘cuz yeah, you’re right. I will be, and I’d hate for us to keep you up.”  

His laughed rolled like thunder at the look on her face, leaning in close. “Yeah, bet there’s still one part of me that you miss, huh?” Sauntering out with his usual cocksure swagger, he left her standing there stewing in contempt, telling the security guys to load up their belongings into the car. Heading down the street, he didn’t much relish having to tell Emily that their long weekend would be plus an unwanted guest, entering the soda shop and beckoning her with a backward jerk of his head.  

“You don’t look happy, handsome,” she spoke carefully upon exiting the shop, wondering just how intense the fight he and Filomena had likely gotten into had become. 

His mouth twitched in grimace, pulling his toothpick out. “Yeah, I ain’t got the best news to deliver. She’s comin’ with us.”  

Her face dropped in an instant. “She’s what?” 

“Alessio is sick, got somethin’ up with his ears, gotta have drops put in every four hours, yadda, yadda. She don’t trust me to fuckin’ look after the kid, the nanny is sick as well, so she’s insisting on inflicting herself.” He paused, resting his hands to her shoulders. “She ain’t gonna ruin anything though, doll. Promise. She knows to keep outta my way, yours too by extension.” 

Her lips thinned, Emily really not happy about having to share her weekend with a woman who hadn’t even bothered speaking directly to her, not even introducing herself before going right on in after her guy regarding their age gap. “Alright. Really, it isn’t, but alright.”  

Leaning to her level, he kissed her forehead. “I know, baby. I know. You just gotta pretend she ain’t there. If she comes out with any of her poison, walk away, alright?” 

She set her face straight with a nod, widening her smile. “I will. Come on, let’s hurry the kids and then get up there.” 

Truly, she’d thought that the toughest thing about that weekend would be how to begin bonding with a fourteen-year-old girl, and two boys of twelve and six. Now there was an ex-wife thrown into the mix, too. A spiteful one. 

A near three-and-a-half-hour drive later and they’d arrived, Angelo and Greta already there, the latter looking perplexed as she alighted the front steps of the mansion, holding her arms wide towards Emily.  

“What the good god is the viper doing here, dolly?” she asked with concern, kissing her cheek while watching Filomena and the children exit the second car.  

“I’ll tell you in a sec, please tell me there’s alcohol here?” 

“Only gin and whiskey, as well as the wine in the cellar.” 

Grabbing her hand, she nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that’ll do.”  

“All of it?” Greta snorted, the women climbing the steps while the guys handled the baggage. 

“Twice over.”  

She winced with a little hiss, taking her through the house back to the rear porch, where she’d been enjoying cigarettes and gin rickey’s in the sun. Walking through the house, Emily’s jaw was on the floor, her head turning left and right to take in as much as possible. To say it was decadent would have been an understatement. Luca had definitely downplayed it thus far. Speaking of Luca... 

“Doll, I’m gonna go spend some time with the kids, take ‘em down to the lake, alright? You okay with Greta?” 

“Of course, she’s fine with me. Go, you get outta here and be with your brood,” the woman herself grinned as Luca greeted her with a cheek kiss.  

“Show her around and all that. See you later.” He winked, departing, his shoulders drawn up. He hadn’t seemed so tense on the way up, but now the reality was setting in, having to be under the same roof as the woman he loathed, she saw clearly it had begun to gnaw at him.  

Emily turned to her, her face pensive. “He wasn’t so bad, driving up. Now? I can see his irritation rising.” 

Greta sighed, ushering her through the final large room to the back door, a huge glass construction between two frames of filigree wrought iron. “Yeah, he had the twitching jaw thing happening, I noticed. Yeesh.” Sitting her down at the table, she poured out a drink, adding an extra slug of neat gin from her little hip flask for good measure. “So, what’s the story?” 

Taking her cigarette case out, Emily offered one across the table, the woman lighting up before Greta was filled in on what had gone down back in Brooklyn. The elder of the women balked, snorting once her young friend had finished. “So, what are we, chopped liver? We couldn’t have handled looking after the kid?” 

“Exactly! Mind you, I doubt Luca would have even suggested it out of respect for me. He even said as much before Filomena dropped herself on us, said the kids would be with the nanny when they weren’t with him, and he didn’t expect me to lift a finger.” 

Greta’s eyebrows rose. “That’s progressive of him.” 

“Eh,” she sniffed, “I think he was probably more worried I wouldn’t blow him if he’d offered my services as substitute mother without at least asking me first.”  

Her words roused laughter, the immaculate brunette lifting her glass to her pristine red lips. “Oh, my good god, I love the fact you’re coming outta your shell more, being in our world. You’re still a polite little sweetheart who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but still, you’d have never come out with such a statement back when we first met. Shows confidence.” 

“I have to be,” she exclaimed, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Being Luca’s girl, I can’t sit there blushing and shrinking from everything or I’d never survive! That includes being able to say out loud with every confidence, and like the lady I am, that my man knows not to jeopardise the luxury of being able to put his dick in my mouth.”  

Greta was in soft fits, clapping her friend’s little display of wry comedy. “You make me laugh, dolly. Oh, you do!” 

“If I don’t laugh right now, having the ex-wife shadow looming, I’ll cry. Believe me.”  

Raising her glass, she beamed. “Then to laughter!” Sipping her drink, she watched as Emily made a thoughtful face, biting the corner of her lip as she looked out over the sprawling grounds towards the lake.  

“I wonder if Filomena likes to play blackjack?”  

“Oh, you’re too much!” Of course, Greta knew well Emily’s talent with card counting.  

Winking, her eyes went back to the lake, just about able to pick out Luca and the kids walking the shoreline, except for Alessio, who was perched atop his father’s shoulders. “I like to think I’m just enough. So, you called her a viper when we arrived. Was that out of loyalty to Luca, or did she ever do something to irritate you?” 

“Honestly? The gal has every right to be hostile toward her ex, given the circumstances... which I probably shouldn’t say too much more on,” she began, Emily waving her hand casually. 

“You’re alright, I know about the other women.”  

Greta swiftly lifted her sunglasses, gaping a little. “He told you?” 

“Yes, he did,” she replied, reaching to the fruit bowl and tearing a small handful of grapes away.  

Her friend was mildly stunned, and made no effort to hide that. “Wow. Didn’t see that coming. Anyhoo, like I said, can’t blame her. Well, in the here and now I can because she needs to be making nice for the children, but instead she’s toying with him, as usual.  

“But I digress. I actually used to get on pretty well with her, but after they broke up she called me up and gave me hell, assuming I knew all about his infidelity. I didn’t know shit! Ain’t like he was gonna advertise it to me. I mean, some guys in their world, they have the wife and then they have the gooma, the side piece, but as far as I can gauge, Luca just fucked around at random. No regular side chick to speak of.”  

“He preferred whores, professionals at sex, women who knew what they were doin’ with a dick and whose silence he could easily buy.” 

Turning, they both watched Filomena approach, her chin lifted as she walked slowly over to the table, a smug smile tilting her lips. “That don’t mean those are the only dames he went for, though. If he saw a gal at the speakeasy who he liked the look of, he��d just make his move. I heard that from the women themselves. Even if they were with his own guys, if he wanted to fuck ‘em, he did.” 

Emily felt a cold wave wash over her, to know the man she loved so much had been that sexually reckless, especially with women so close to the guys who worked for him. She tried to remember what that very man had told her just hours before, though, about Filomena and her meddling. “Hmm,” she hummed, clearly entertained by Emily’s pinking cheeks. “Didn’t know that much, did ya?”  

She could feel her throat tightening, swallowing hard as she looked up at the scorned woman, who’s commentary continued. “I asked him once, you know, how many women he’d bedded behind my back. He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. He was a fuckin’ prolific man whore, my ex-husband. And you look at him like the sun shines outta his ass, you poor gal. He’ll get bored of ya, eventually. Don't think the same won’t happen to you once you’ve knocked out a couple of his kids. Probably before then, if he ain’t already.” 

“Fil, come on, hon. Enough now, yeesh. You don’t gotta drag Emily into this.” Greta advised, rubbing her head with her hand, her eyes finding her friend in support, and what Emily couldn’t bear to see. Sympathy. Because she couldn’t hide the fact that the former Mrs. Changretta wasn’t lying. 

Luca had told her that his ex would do this, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that her poison would be nothing but the truth, Emily getting up and swiftly exiting the situation with tears pooling her eyes.  

Exactly what Filomena had wanted. After all; hurt people, hurt people.  

[quippih]

i need to get out of florida

I've lived here for my whole life. It's always been the same hot weather and scorching sun and suffocating humidity. I don't hate it here; if I could afford an apartment far away from my family but close enough to the beach that I could go whenever I wanted and got top surgery and hormones so I didn't feel like a freak whenever I go to the beach then yeah. I'd live here for the rest of my life. I fucking love the beach.

But a little less than a year ago I was up in Kansas City, going to art school and living in the overflow housing that was just a hotel next to the school. And yeah, I wasn't doing great in my classes and I eventually was kicked out because of it, but damn did I feel free.

I even had a job, as mind numbing and exhausting as it was. In hindsight seasonal depression plus my uncle passing away really put me in a position where I wasn't fighting to stay in that school. I wasn't trying. For 90% of my life I've blamed myself for my shortcomings, so shoot me if I want to blame the snow and some cancer for not trying, instead of faulting it on my own willpower.

I miss it every day. I don't miss the student debt and the art history and critical studies classes. I mainly miss riding my electric bike around and feeling responsible when I went to get groceries with money I earned. Sure, I wasn't paying rent and I got most of my meals through the school. But I didn't have to think about whether or not I was allowed to have a treat or get myself a midnight snack. Or whether I was allowed to go to late night events or ride my bike around town at ungodly hours of the night.

Of course, I wasn't really taking care of myself that much either. I was very wishy-washy with therapy, which sucks because I found a therapist I really liked right before I left. He knew nothing about being trans, which I sometimes find is a good thing because explaining it to someone else makes me feel like I understand myself more than I probably do. I was at least taking my meds, I tried to use good coping skills or whatever. I didn't drink alcohol or shoot heroin or anything. But again, getting hit with a wave of not being able to get out of bed because it's cold outside was fucking intense. Especially after living somewhere where the only two seasons are hot and hotter.

I'm reading Nevada right now, a book about a trans woman in New York who rides her bike a lot and thinks a lot about Being Trans in a very self-aware kind of way. And I see her holding a job and living in an apartment with her girlfriend and (spoilers) having to couch surf with a friend for a bit and I think. I've already got friends in New York. I have L, a friend who does performing arts and has been up there at SVA for at least a year now. My friend D is going up there for SVA too. I went to an art high school full of fellow fags and dykes and transsexuals, of course a good chunk of them are ending up in New York.

It's hard to have that courage again, because I failed the first time. I don't know if I want to go to New York, or Kansas City, or anywhere else because I won't have anywhere to turn to if I fail again. In a school sense, I mean; if I had a degree and was just struggling to find work and couldn't afford rent then I think my parents would help me out a bit. They're not heartless or anything.

I think I'm going to get my bachelors in Graphic Design at the local college, fill my time with school so my parents think I'm working towards something, and then I'll fuck off to some other state where it snows. I'll figure out how to hold a job and pay rent and live with my boyfriend and live with my girlfriend and take hormones and save up for top surgery and Be a Person without wanting to kill myself again.

and maybe then, after a while, i'll come back home and go to the beach again.

[applecherry108]

So I have never spent any amount of time looking at a map of nyc in all my 31 years of life, so getting on Google maps and staring and studying and Realizing™️ some shit has been hilarious and surreal.

I did not know that their famous subway does not connect to Staten Island.

They were not kidding, that island is Long

The Statue of Liberty is technically in New Jersey waters???

The statue is way further inland (in-bay?) than I realized.

Hell’s Kitchen is larger than I gave it credit for

It’s also like. A block away from Times Square

It always fucks me up that Central Park is. So. Rectangular. Perfectly rectangular. I Know nyc is “a grid system mf” but the park still looks like that image of Colorado superimposed on a natural borders map of the us. It looks weird.

I am not, however, surprised at how fucking massive the park is. I Knew one (1) thing about the city, and it was that.

I truly did not understand that the City is on 3 separate fucking islands. Like I know I have no concept of anything and I know I’ve never had any special interest in nyc, but the more I look at it the more I feel like I’ve never absorbed any information about it ever in my life.

Yonkers.

[dayenurose]

Writer’s Month Prompts (written for @writersmonth )

Day 17 - Ice (Romy - WatX)

(**Note: While I wrote this I had my story “Proceeding According to Plan” in mind, so there are a few references to the way that story played out.**)

Rogue was going to kill Bobby. Kill him dead. Then, she was going to resurrect him and kill him again just to make certain he learned his lesson.

Don’t talk to her about reasonable. There was nothing reasonable about this situation. They’d left reasonable three days ago. A thick layer of ice encased the Mansion all because Bobby wanted to see how far he could push his powers. Instead of stopping when things didn’t go as planned, he doubled down and kept pushing. Only Bobby would think that more ice was the solution to too much ice. Apparently, he could freeze things, but unfreezing them was beyond his capabilities. Now, all they could do was wait for the ice to melt.

Shivering, Rogue clutched another blanket tightly around her shoulders. Rogue hated the cold. And that’s all she could feel, thanks to Bobby. A cold which seeped into the very marrow of her bones and bit to the quick. She wore every item of clothing she possessed and it still did nothing to dissuade the chill

Her teeth chattered. The heater couldn’t keep up with the cold which permeated the inside of the building and what little heat they managed to secure was directed to the room where they kept the Professor’s body. They’d run out of firewood after the first day and had no way of going outside to gather more. Since none of the others felt the cold as intensely as she did, it was up to Rogue to find ways of staying warm. So far, her attempts had been less than successful. Her hot chocolate rapidly became tepid chocolate, and now as her chattering teeth rattled against the side of the mug, she sipped ice crystals.

None of the X-Men currently occupying the Mansion possessed the means to escape. Bobby—the cause of their problem—only made things worse when he tried. The entire foyer had become a slip and slide before they convinced him to just stop already. Emma couldn’t think her way past the blockage and wasn’t going to risk chipping a nail. And while Hank and Rogue could attempt to brute force their way through the ice, they first needed to be able to access the ice. Which remained problematic in that all the doors and windows held fast. Not only had the ice jammed all points of egress, it had also blocked their means of communication with the outside world. Now all they could do was wait until the other X-Men returned from their missions.

Not for the first time since the Great Freeze did Rogue wish could have been on the mission with the other X-Men. Wherever they were had to be warmer than here. But, Wolverine still didn’t trust her after her time with the Brotherhood. If he did, she could have joined the mission and missed out on all this fun.

It wasn’t her fault the Brotherhood was the only Mutant organization which had the access to the information she needed when she arrived in New York. Until very recently, the X-Men hadn’t been a credible option since before the explosion. Sure, she could tell Logan about Ellie. If he knew, he might even forgive Rogue for her actions. But, she didn’t exactly trust him either. He had the habit of judging people before understanding a situation, then stubbornly holding to his opinion even after learning he was wrong. Also, he never addressed his tendency of running off whenever he felt like it. With those attitudes, this wasn’t the kind of world she wanted to introduce to her husband or daughter.

Burrowing back into the nest of every blanket in the house she’d managed to beg, borrow, or steal, Rogue checked her watch for the umpteenth time. It wouldn’t be much longer. She’d missed her check-in. In fact, she was over twelve hours late. Which meant she missed spending time with her husband. Missed checking in on her daughter. Her absence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

As if he read her mind, a loud crack sounded outside her window. A flash of light illuminated from behind the curtains. Shuffling out of her blanket cocoon, Rogue crossed the room to her window and threw open the drapery. A spiderweb of cracks crisscrossed the thick layers of ice blocking the the window. She heard a faint scrabbling from the other side of the meter thick blockage.

A shadowy silhouette wedged thin, flexible objects at key points within the cracks. Rogue backed away as another loud bang practically shook the dorm wing of the mansion. It was accompanied by a lurid fuchsia glow. When the ice shards settled, the scrabbling resumed. The patterned continued—an explosion, a clearing of icy debris, followed by another explosion until the ice layer was only a few inches thick. Eventually the amorphous shadows took on a distinctive shape. A very welcome form. Her husband.

When there were more cracks than smooth ice covering the window and filtered sunlight lit the room in broken patches, Rogue attempted to force the window open. It creaked and groaned in protest. Undeterred, she continued to muscle the stubborn frame open a few inches. Gambit plucked away shards of ice until he could curl his fingers under the frame.

It shuddered, then gave, sliding open another inch or so, before sticking fast and refusing to budge again. Warm air slipped into the room in a valiant attempt at clearing the pervasive chill. For the first time in days, she felt the initial inklings of warmth. And not only from the summer air.

Working his way back down the ice covered wall, Remy peered into the room. Rogue knelt before the window and slipped her hand through the window and entwined her fingers with his. Even through the layers of gloves, Remy’s natural body heat seeped through the layers of gloves and sent prickles of warmth into her chilled skin.

“Hello mon coeur. I was wondering what kept you. Though I wasn’t expecting quite this much of a cold shoulder.” While he made an effort at keeping the cheeky inflection to his voice, deep lines of concern was etched into his face. “I was afraid they decided to keep you prisoner again.”

“Not this time. At least not on purpose.” Rogue squeezed his hand. “Do you think you can get me out of here?”

“Oui. Your wish is my command.” Remy tapped along the window frame from the outside and cleared away more slivers of ice. “Think it needs one more round of explosives, then we’ll be able to free the window. Mais, it’s probably going to also blow out the glass. You should take cover.”

“Okay.” Rogue backed away from the window and returned to her nest. She pulled a blanket over her head and waited for Remy to work his magic.

A chain of explosions blasted through the last layer of ice. As predicted the glass shattered.  What didn’t disappear in a flash of fuchsia and dust, scattered across the floor in glittering shards. Warmth and freedom at last.

Rogue shucked off her extra layers of clothes. Before opening her door to allow the summer warmth to combat the freezing house, Rogue grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a quick note.

“Gone to warm up. Be back soon. ~Rogue.”

Surprised that the other X-Men hadn’t already come in search of the ruckus, Rogue hurried to the window. Remy helped her avoid the jagged glass as she climbed out. Balancing half against her husband and half on the ledge of broken ice, Rogue clung to his side to keep from sliding down the side of the building.

“Hold on tight.” Remy pressed a quick, searing kiss to her lips before repelling down the building with the aid of a climbing ropes.

Once they were on solid ground, Remy swooped her up in his arms. With his face buried in her hair, he asked, “What do you want to do now?”

“Let’s go back to your apartment. I want a hot shower and a warm body in my bed.” She snuggled up against his side, luxuriating in his warmth.

“I believe I can help with that.” Remy grinned as he led her back to his motorcycle parked down the road from the Mansion. “How about I promise to keep you all toasty and you stay with me until all the ice has melted.”

“Sounds like a deal, swamp rat.” Rogue rested her head on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So much from the Nish Kumar show last night. It was amazing. I didn’t write about it right after (aside from this post that I made before getting in the car because holy fucking hell) as it was a bit more than a two-hour drive home. I got home at 3 AM, passed out, woke up this morning and now I still feel so overwhelmed by how cool it was. Here’s the best I can do with writing about it.

There were about ten weeks between when I first saw this show, in New York City, and when I saw it last night in Montreal. I’d expected the main difference to be that he’d have to rewrite the Boris-based parts of the show he did in New York, since, you know, that situation has changed in the last ten weeks. But he actually cut that bit entirely, barely mentioned Boris or UK politics at all. I can understand why. I saw him do a livestreamed thing a couple of weeks ago, and that showed me the jokes he’s written to reflect the current mess of a political climate. They involved saying he hates Rishi Sunak for being the highly successful Asian man that his own parents wanted him to be, and saying we can’t let Rishi Sunak be prime minister because he killed everyone’s grandma via mismanagement of the pandemic. My guess is that while he expected the North Americans at his New York show to know who Boris Johnson was, he was less sure that North Americans would know about Rishi Sunak, so decided to just skip all that rather taking his “Rishi Sunak killed everyone’s grandma” material to people who might have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

So the specific political material got cut, as did a few other things; I think he was more pressed for time at the Montreal show. There were enough jokes that were in the New York show and not in the Montreal show for me to now be sure it was worth going to New York for it, even though I could see him much closer to home ten weeks later. That 17-hour round trip to a city that I did not like was worth it just for the few jokes he put in the New York show and cut from Montreal.

He also added some stuff in Montreal that wasn’t there in New York. There were some Canada-specific jokes. Said Boris Johnson was on the verge of joining our trucker protest, which got a cheer because fuck those people. Asked how the hell that trucker thing happened and if Canada “caught” stupidity from America, which… yes. I mean that was funny but it also barely worked as a joke because it’s pretty much a literal description of what happened. Yes, Nish, we had a lot of people who were influenced by American media and specific American figures who targeted them with an onslaught of messaging and American money that funded their efforts, and that is how this happened. I could draw you a diagram if you like. People who got arrested at the trucker protests were shouting about Miranda rights and the first amendment. They think everything American applies to us. This is why it’s important to properly fund and support Canadian media like the CBC to educate Canadians on our culture instead of having everything washed away in a sea of Americanism. But I digress.

Another bit that was not in the New York show was a few minutes spent talking shit about Ed Gamble and James Acaster, which was hilarious. Earlier in the day, those two had recorded a live episode of Off Menu at that same festival (I did consider getting tickets to that, but they were quite expensive and I’ve only ever heard about three episodes of Off Menu so I figured it wouldn’t be worth it). Nish correctly surmised (I say it was correct, based on the strong audience reaction to him bringing it up) that most people in his audience had been to see the Off Menu recording earlier in the day. He complained that as a brown guy he’s out here telling us how he got PTSD from racist death threats, while his very white friends were discussing what food they like. Called them “a couple of crackers talking about crackers”, which was quite funny. Informed us that they pronounce “papadum” wrong; he was it was supposed to sound more like this, and I guess James does something of a white bastardization of it. Then he added that if anyone chooses bread over papadums they’re racist.

Now, I hope this will go without saying, but because someone reading this post doesn’t see or hear the tone that was present in the room, I’d like to clarify that it was very obvious all along that he was 100% joking. At no point did anyone think he really does resent them for that; sometimes James talks about mental breakdowns and sometimes Nish talks about watching sex scenes in movies with his dad, so just because right now James is talking about food and Nish is talking about racism doesn’t mean that defines their whole lives. The difference in levels of heaviness of their material at that specific comedy festival was just a funny juxtaposition to point out at that moment. I mean, James and Ed probably do say “papadum” wrong. But I’m sure Nish forgives them.

In case anyone in the audience did not fully understand this, Nish ended this by saying, “Of course, those two are my friends, I don’t mean it, I love those guys. I did mean the stuff about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr, though.” And that brings me to a particularly interesting thing that was in this show but not the New York one. To explain, I’m going to quote something I wrote about nine weeks ago, talking about the show I saw Nish do in New York. The initial post was about the bit in Nish Kumar’s 2019 show, when he did a whole rant about how Ricky Gervais is an asshole for doing transphobia and calling it comedy. Here is something I added on to that post after seeing Nish in New York this year:

“I just saw him do his newest live show last week, and he again dedicated a couple of minutes to complaining about comedians who run out of new funny things to say so they just go on Netflix to talk shit about minorities instead. Those minutes ended with the words “Fuck you Dave Chappelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” (For a split second I thought Jimmy Carr’s name was going to come out of his mouth next, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t.)”

That’s what I said nine weeks ago, and that’s how I felt at the time. I sat in that theatre in New York, heard Nish say he does comedy way better than those “edgy” people who think shitting on minorities counts as comedy, saw him get really riled up and on a roll and flow right into angrily shouting, “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” and for a moment my brain was sure he was going to add “fuck you Jimmy Carr”. This was a little while ago, closer to when Jimmy Carr’s joke about Romani Holocaust victims was in the media (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can Google it, or better yet, don’t – if you’ve ever seen the whole “asshole makes a racist joke, tabloids make clickbait articles about it, asshole complains about cancel culture” storm play out, then it’s exactly what you’re picturing), so his name came into my mind when Nish described that type of comedian. I thought he might say it, but he didn’t, and on reflection, I did think “for the best” was a good way to describe the omission. No need to feed the media storm further with “Nish Kumar VISCIOUSLY SLAMS Jimmy Carr in Latest Special” tabloid headlines or whatever.

I don’t know what changed in those ten weeks. Jimmy Carr has not said any new and notably offensive stuff since then. But at some point in ten weeks, Nish Kumar decided to amend that joke. Last night, his bit about how he hates “edgy” comedians who shit on minorities on stage ended with “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais, fuck you Jimmy Carr!” He then said something about Gervis and Carr specifically, since they’re both British. He called them something like “a giggling ghost and his ventriloquist dummy friend” who are making British comedians look bad by doing this kind of shit. And he brought it up again later in the show, saying he was just kidding about his friends James and Ed, but he did mean the shit he said about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr.

I would say that’s kind of a big deal. I’ve given Nish Kumar credit before for going after Ricky Gervais, since that 2019 show also has an explanation of how much he loved The Office, how he had all the episodes basically memorized, how he looked up to its creator. It’s a rule for life generally that it’s easy to call out people from the “other side”, people you didn’t like anyway, but it’s much harder to call out people who are in some way on “your side”. So I think it’s a sign of good character when someone can recognize bad things in a person they liked, and are willing to say so instead of defending or excusing it.

Jimmy Carr is another level of that. I mean, Nish Kumar was a fan of The Office, and Ricky Gervais is a fellow British comedian, but I’m pretty sure Gervais has been in America for as long as Nish has had a showbusiness career. So on a practical level, Gervais may as well be an American comedian just like Chappelle; they’re not exactly in Nish Kumar’s orbit.

Nish Kumar is much more likely to cross paths, professionally and personally, with Jimmy Carr than with Dave Chapelle or Ricky Gervais. They’re both on the British stand-up (not at comedy clubs or whatever, but they both tour the UK with stand-up shows) circuit and the British panel show circuit. Nish has done 8 Out of 10 Cats and Catsdown. Nish was hanging out with Jimmy in Katherine Ryan’s living room as of whenever they filmed the end of that Backstage show, which was not that long ago. Jimmy Carr was at this same festival in Montreal, performing his own show. That’s definitely a new level of calling out one of his own.

Obviously, the caveat I add every time I give someone credit for something like this is that there are a lot of harder jobs in the world than being a comedian, and there are a lot of braver things to do than talk shit about someone you know on stage. I’m also not pretending it helps anything on a practical level; I’m quite sure Nish Kumar would acknowledge that him saying “Fuck you Jimmy Carr” on stage does not make life better for Romani people that have their genocide trivialized. But still, it took guts to say that. I bet a bunch of people felt that way, but didn’t say so publicly because Jimmy Carr is all over the Britcom world and they didn’t want to cause problems. I’m thinking of that Last Leg episode when Hannah Gadsby was a guest and said Jimmy Carr is terrible to minorities, and Adam Hills and Alex Brooker and Josh Widdicombe all looked very uncomfortable and like they desperately wanted her to stop talking even though I’m sure they knew she was right. It’s fucking awkward to call someone an asshole if you know you work and socialize in the same area. So honestly, credit to Nish Kumar here. That took some guts to say.

Okay, bullet points for some other, quicker, fun observations about the show:

- For anyone who doesn’t know, the main show is about the time that someone threw a bread roll at him because they were mad that he was making jokes about Brexit and colonialism. Then he learned that this incident had somehow made the news, then it really blew up from there, racist death threats occurred, PTSD due to those death threats occurred, stigma about mental health issues stopped him from getting help, but then he finally sought therapy and is now doing better and wrote a show about it. It is a genuinely insightful and hard-hitting show in addition to being amazingly funny and bright and honest, and it’s one of the best pieces of comedy I’ve ever seen.

- I’d remembered the story of how after the show, his friends who were there with him, including Tim Key and Miles Jupp, took him to the pub and they got drunk. I’d forgotten how he said Tim Key made the hilarious joke of apologizing for having thrown the bread roll, pretending the whole incident was a result of Tim Key thinking it would be funny to mess with him by throwing bread. That is such an on-brand joke for Tim Key to make and was a very funny line.

- Nish Kumar telling us his job is 1) to make jokes about the news, and 2) to be a spare in case anyone loses Jason Mantzoukas – also very funny.

- In New York, he said he knows his audience consists of people who read The Guardian and people who’ve recently canceled their subscription to The Guardian because it’s insufficiently left wing. In Montreal, he did the same joke but with The New York Times instead. I can’t tell if he thinks Canadians are less likely than Americans to know about The Guardian (which doesn’t seem likely, as Americans are more stereotyped than we are as being unaware of the outside world), if he thought the joke didn’t go well enough in America and it would be better if he started changing it when he went overseas (also seems a bit weird since the joke got a big laugh when I heard it in New York). It’s okay, Nish, you can talk about The Guardian in North America. We know about The Guardian. It’s a very famous media outlet.

- I have to give Nish credit again for how passionate he was about this, how high his energy was the entire time, how much he clearly cared about the words he wrote and wanted to share them with us. A few days ago, I saw James Acaster force himself to get through a show, then look at his watch and clearly be relieved to realize he’d already done an hour and that meant he was allowed to leave the stage. He left immediately, the crowd pretty much forced him to come back for an encore, he was not happy about it and did a few more minutes before leaving.

Last night, Nish Kumar shouted at us with vigour for an hour and twenty minutes before looking at the clock, and saying oh shit, this was not supposed to go for this long. Then he continued talking for another ten minutes or so, talking faster and faster like he was worried about not having enough time to say everything he wanted to say. For the entire time he was up there, he spoke at a million words a minute, barely took a breath. You could see how much he cared about this, how much he loved what he’d written and the opportunity to say it. He was exactly the same way in New York. I loved that, it made the show so enjoyable.

I don’t mean to denigrate James Acaster there – I made that comparison to show a contrast and make the point that not every show is like Nish Kumar’s. Obviously, the contrast I’ve just described does not automatically make Nish’s show objectively better than James’. A longer show is definitely not always a better show; in fact there’s a lot to be said for tightly written efficient material (“tightly written efficient material” doesn’t really describe the shows that James Acaster or Nish Kumar brought to this festival, but the principle is still true). But in this case, the length of the show reflected Nish’s passion for the material, the way he was so dedicated to it that he didn’t want to stop talking, and that energy really enhanced the experience.

- Okay, here’s the story of what I wrote last night. I dragged my best friend to Montreal for this show. My friend is not generally into comedy, and he specifically describes himself as not liking British comedy, even though that opinion is pretty much based on how he thought Monty Python’s Holy Grail was silly and has not seen other Britcom besides a few things I’ve made him sit through at times. I convinced him to go with me, for the road trip and the day in Montreal. He did end up enjoying the Nish Kumar… mostly. I think.

Anyway, as I said, the venue was amazingly small and we were sitting in the front row. At one point, Nish talked about how everyone in the public eye gets hate, but they’ll get more if they’re more degrees away from the “default”. He then defined the “default” as white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied men. He said something like “And if any of those are here tonight…” Without thinking, I tapped my best friend’s shoulder, because I had in fact brought a white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied man to a Nish Kumar show. To be honest, he was out of place. He was a jock among nerds. As a nerd at heart who spends most of my life among jocks (due to the sports team that this friend and I have been coaching together for many years, where he is a lovely person who cares deeply for our athletes and his friends, but if you see him on the street he does look a lot like a jock), I figured he could live with that for a night.

Nish saw me tap my friend’s shoulder, and he stopped talking. He lowered his hand that had the microphone, put his other hand on his forehead and laughed. And good people of www.tumblr.com, I do not know enough words to describe what it is like to make Nish Kumar laugh. It’s like making an angel fly. That excitable laugh that comes out generously and too loudly on panel shows and podcasts when anyone on stage says something that gets to him – that got direct at me, and if I die tomorrow I want that on my tombstone. If I die in 100 years I want that on my tombstone. I’m like 30% joking.

Nish asked me if I knew the guy next to me, and I said yes. Nish said oh good, he was worried I might have just tapped a random guy next to me who appeared to fit the description of straight white cisgender able-bodied man. Eye contact occurred. Actually, eye contact occurred a bunch of times throughout the show, sometimes to an extent that was quite awkward, because like I said the venue was really weirdly small.

And at first, I did not want that to happen! At one point he asked the crowd if we knew what that 1965 audience called Bob Dylan when he plugged in his guitar, and I was sitting there thinking “Judas!” Of course I know they called him Judas, that is a famous moment in the history of the intersection of folk and rock music, a famous moment that gets pointed to when fans of folk and to a lesser extent country music argue about what’s a reasonable level of saying “this is a terrible populist bastardization of the genre” versus what is being too gatekeep-y like the 1965 people who got mad at Bob Dylan, and arguments like that are where I live. But I didn’t yell it out, because I could not bring myself to yell out words that would be heard by Nish Kumar. I did not want Nish Kumar’s attention drawn to my existence, even for a moment. But later in the show, when I tapped my friend’s shoulder without thinking and drew his attention anyway, I realized how foolish I had been to resist the opportunity. It was the coolest fucking thing. Holy hell.

Nish Kumar definitely knows I exist. Crops watered skin clear ailments cured angels in flight.

[arvinsescape]

Late.

A/N: As always i hope you enjoy. First time writing genuine arsehole Tom. You can now read a follow up if you want here.

Summary: Tom’s late for dinner, reader has had enough. Tom makes a mistake but it all works out in the end.

W/C: 2.2K

Warnings: Swearing.

“Tom Holland spotted with new girlfriend after breakup with ex.”

“Tom Holland on night out with new girlfriend.”

“Is Tom Holland finally over his ex?”

You saw the headlines and wanted to throw your phone at a wall. You and Tom had dated for two years and broken it off a couple of months ago, it was sad and it was messy a row where you both said things you shouldn’t have.

“Seriously Tom?” You shouted as you threw your hands up, voice hoarse from all the shouting.

“I was late, yes. I get it you were left hanging but I was busy and didn’t finish on time. You need to get some perspective.” He shouted.

“I’m not even upset about that, a quick text would have been nice. But no, you left me sat there like a complete fucking idiot.” You fired back and he rolled his eyes.

“I have had a stressful enough day as it is. I don’t need you adding to it. You’re behaving like a bratty child and you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Seriously? That’s you’re defence? I knew what I was getting into, so what, I’m just supposed to accept it?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know you could really use getting some more friends. You can’t just rely on me all the time.” He snapped and your heart dropped. You had friends, but not many, you’d been bullied a lot through high school and therefore kept a small circle of people you trusted and he knew that.

“They were busy.” You fired back.

“Were they? Or are they just sick of listening to you go on?” He shouted and that stung, it was a huge insecurity of yours, you always feared people didn’t truly like you.

“You know what Tom? You are so far stuck up your own arse that it’s embarrassing. I’m glad you and your foul fucking mood didn’t make it tonight.” You shouted, you were close to tears but you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not right now.

“Yeah well at least I fucking do something with my life.” He shouted back and you couldn’t stop the tears at that. You’d recently turned down a promotion to move to New York so that you could see him as often as you still did, it felt like he was throwing it back in your face.

“You are a vain, arrogant, selfish, stuck up arsehole.” You said back as your voice cracked, his eyes instantly snapped to yours as he heard your voice crack. His anger washed away completely as he realised exactly what it was he’d just said to you. He took a careful step towards you as he spoke.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” You cried when you heard the softness in his voice. A stark contrast from seconds ago.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me you arsehole. I’m going to stay at Lizzie’s.” You said as you picked up your bag, going into the bedroom and stuffing whatever clothes touched your hands into it, he was hot on your trail.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was out of line, I’m sorry.” He kept trying. When you were done you turned to look at him.

“Those were possibly some of the worst things you could have said to me. Thank you for playing on the insecurities that I told you about in confidence. I greatly fucking appreciate it.” You snapped, your tears were unstoppable and he felt awful.

“Y/N please. Just calm down and we’ll talk about it yeah?” He was crying now and you turned to make your way towards the front door. You turned to look at him one last time before you spoke.

“Until you’ve sorted your attitude out, I don’t wanna see you.” You said as you slammed the door shut and left for Lizzie’s.

He had tried to call you, many times after that. He showed up at Lizzie’s a week later but she wouldn’t let him in. You cried for weeks and just as you thought you were getting better, that you weren’t missing him the same, you saw that he had a new girlfriend. You’d noticed he’d tried to ring you a couple of times this morning but you’d ignored it. Your twitter mentions had gone through the roof for the first time since you’d split and you couldn’t help but look at them.

Dam that girl looks like Y/N but less attractive.

Y/N is naturally prettier I have to say.

Looking at the pictures, I think it’s just a hook up.

She’s far prettier than Y/N, well done Tommy.

That girl legit looks the spit of Y/N, I don’t think he’s over her.

It looks like Tom took Y/N and upgraded her.

I feel bad for the amount of hate Y/N’s getting, leave her be guys, we don’t know why they split up or how she’ll be feeling about this, I know I’d be heartbroken.

You furrowed your brows as you opened one of the pictures and in all fairness they weren’t wrong, she held a lot of similarities but she was far prettier and it made your heart ache. You still liked that some of his fans were supportive, some had been quite defensive of you. Tom had been vague about why you’d split up but never once denied it was his fault.

Then a tweet caught your eye because you noticed that Harry had retweeted it.

Please don’t bother Y/N with this. We know Tom said it was his fault as to why they broke up. We know that they loved each other and I think Tom might have made a mistake. Please respect that they are both still probably hurting and we should leave them alone.

Why was Harry retweeting something about this? Sure, he’d been supportive of you but not in public. Please respect that they are both still probably hurting. Was Tom still hurting? Apart from this morning he hadn’t tried to reach out at all in three weeks, you thought that was his way of saying he was over it. That was until you opened your voicemail and saw that Tom had left one last night. You sighed as you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hi baby, sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t call you that anymore.” He was drunk and he was crying, that much you could tell. “Erm, you didn’t pick your phone up, not that I blame you. I wouldn’t if you said that shit to me. Listen, you’re gonna see some stuff tomorrow that I’m not proud of but you probably won’t get the whole truth and I want you to know what happened.” He sniffled a few times and your heart ached, he’d wanted to tell you first and you’d not answered.

“So I got really drunk tonight, as you can probably tell. I met this girl and she looked like you, she wasn’t you but she looked like you. She was really nice actually but that’s beside the point. You’re probably gonna see the pictures of me kissing her outside that club and I’m sorry. I know we’re not together but I haven’t moved on and I don’t want you to think I have.” You were crying as you listened to him, he sounded like he was in so much pain.

“I still love you, like a lot and I’m sorry. I brought her here and when we were about to sleep together I couldn’t do it. She was in our bed Y/N/N, that’s your place, not hers and I just couldn’t do it. I cried and she was really nice, she told me to call you. So here I am. Well, she said I should call you tomorrow when I was sober but I was hoping I’d hear your voice. Your voicemail will have to do I suppose. I love you and I miss you and I’m sorry I was such a prick. I didn’t mean it.”

You ended the call because you couldn’t listen anymore, he sounded like he was in so much pain and it made your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. He really was hurting as much as you were, maybe more. You were pulled out of your thoughts as your phone buzzed. Tom. You hesitated for a second before you answered.

“Hey.” You said in the best voice of happiness you could muster.

“Y/N? I didn’t think you’d answer.” He sniffled, was he crying again?

“Yeah, I erm, I got your voicemail.” You said and you heard as he let out a sob.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, I didn’t mean to spill all that, I only rang you with the intent of explaining what you’ve probably seen this morning. I shouldn’t have done that, I know you’re trying to move on so I shouldn’t have told you that I still love you.” He rambled through his sobs and your heart broke.

“Tom, it’s okay. I think I can forgive you for leaving an emotional voicemail.” You laughed through your tears and you heard him let out a choked laugh too.

“Can I see you? You don’t have to come here and I don’t have to come to you but can we meet somewhere neutral please? Even if it’s just for closure?” He was begging and you knew deep down you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to.

“Okay. How about that coffee shop we both like?” You said.

“Okay, gimme an hour?” The hope in his voice was enough to lift your heart slightly.

An hour later and you found yourself awkwardly sat at a table with Tom as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I mean it. I shouldn’t have said what I said, it was so fucking wrong of me. I shouldn’t have used your insecurities like that, it was a dick move. You’re right I was being an arrogant, selfish arsehole and you deserved better, I understand why you left me.” He said as he looked at you, you could see the tears brimming and watched as he swallowed them back.

“It hurt Tom.” You said in response. “But you weren’t completely wrong either, I did rely on you too much, I pushed you harder than I should have at times and I know how hard you work.”

“Y/N, you just wanted me to be there when I said I was going to be, that’s not relying on me too much, that’s just asking me to be your boyfriend.” He sighed again.

“But you were right, there was always a chance that what would happen happened and I should have been more understanding.” You said as you looked at him again.

“I should have sent you a text and for that I’m sorry but it wasn’t like it was the first time it happened. I was so wrapped up in the film that I didn’t think much past it and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have thrown you turning down that promotion at you either, I know you did that for us.” He said and he meant it, you knew he did, he may have been a fantastic actor but he always had this look in his eye when he was being completely genuine and vulnerable, one he couldn’t fake.

“It’s okay. I think we both needed to learn some things when we broke up.” You sighed as you sat in silence again, it felt more comfortable this time.

“I’m sorry about last night, the voicemail, the girl. All of it.” He said.

“It’s okay. In fairness you don’t have to apologise about the girl, you are single.” You tried to joke and he tensed.

“No but I didn’t want you to think I’d moved on, you deserve better than that. As for being single, please don’t remind me.” He huffed slightly, you could see the pain, it was all over his face. You missed him dearly and he seemed so genuine about how sorry he was. You sighed before you spoke up again.

“How about I let you take me to dinner tomorrow night? You know start over?” You mumbled and his face lit up in the most genuine way you’d ever seen.

“Seriously? You wanna try again?” He was smiling now and you realised how much you’d missed seeing it.

“I’m prepared to try again but take it slowly.” You admitted.

“Whatever you want.” He was nodding profusely, it almost looked comical. “What time? I won’t be late I promise.”

“7?” You asked as you stood to collect your bag.

“I’ll be there at ten to.” He smiled as you made you’re way out of the coffee shop.

[moregaythanyourealized]

First Impressions

Otto Octavius x reader

Working with others wasn’t your strong suit. People think you’re vulgar and rude. You like to call yourself brutally honest. This job wasn’t an exception. A science company that needed engineers, mechanics, and strong minds like your own. You had only been working here for a few months when gossip about a new super project was being passed around. No one bothered to tell you, of course. You just overheard it on your coffee break. Apparently some great scientist was coming in and taking over the entire lab.

Usually you’d be excited for an advancement in the world of fusion. But this new rich snobby scientist meant that for however long this project took you’d have; No office, Less working hours (meaning less pay), and worst of all....small talk

It was the day the new scientist was supposed to come in, you now knew his name was Otto Octavius. Your desk and your co workers desks were moved out of the lab and into a much smaller space. Cramping you all together like rats. You wore your usual attire and annoyed look as you entered the building. Although today you dawned some stylish eyeliner. Not for him of course, everybody was working extra hard to look presentable and professional. You passed by a co-worker who you didn’t really hate as much,

“Yo, Kathleen, is that guy here yet? Or do you think he’s too busy getting the windows on his lamborghini re-tinted?” You snorted at your own joke waiting for her response,

“Uh, he’s upstairs I think...in the lab.” You thanked her and walked up the steps. You pushed through nerds and geeks trying to reach your desk. A folder of your ideas carefully sealed with colorful clips sat in your drawer.

“L/n!” Turning around your boss was at the end of the hall stomping his feet,

“You were supposed to be in the lab by 7:30!” You glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:46,

“My apologies sir. I didn’t realize everyone would have a stick up their ass this morning. Besides traffic on the way here is always shitty.” You absentmindedly looked through your folder and took one page out pinning it to your cork board, until your boss grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him. His breath was heinous,

“Listen L/n, on a normal day I’d let you get away with being like this. But this is too important for you to fuck up.” glaring at you he released your arm,

“Get your shit together.” He spat. Waiting until he rounded the corner you groaned and tugged at your hair. Today just wasn’t your day. Taking a deep breath you smoothed out your shirt and walked to the lab pushing the door open and continuing inside. The colder air made you relax a bit. Hoping you’d be able to get some work done you sat down on a metal table in the corner. Crossing your legs and looking over blueprints for the next big thing in New York. The above ground bullet train. Sleek design and smooth riding on the rails...you hoped.

Kathleen walked in and shyly rapped your shoulder,

“Did you meet Mr Octavius?”

“He hasn’t come in yet.” You replied glancing her way, admiring how nice she looked even when she wasn’t trying,

“He’s right over there.” She points to a hunched over man in a red sweater. You got off the table and stared,

“That’s him? I thought he was like a janitor or some shit.” The man looked up raising a brow.

Fuck...probably said that too loud.

Waving awkwardly you grabbed Kathleen’s arm and dragged her over to the main table with you,

“Hello, I’m Dr Octavius. I believe we’ll be working together for the next few weeks.” He smiled sweetly and stuck out his hand which Kathleen accepted greatly,

“Actually Dr,” You chimed,

“You’ll be working with people from the east wing. They’re just letting you invade our entire office.” Kathleen stamped down on your foot lightly before turning back to the doctor,

“Y/n was just going to get me some coffee, do you want any Dr?” He nodded and you walked out making sure to slam the door. Stupid jerk, wearing a cute fucking sweater, trying to act all innocent. Trying to play god and mess with whatever sanity I have left. Pouring two cups of coffee you sighed, watching the steam spiral from the cup in a calming manner. Putting milk and sugar into one and nothing into the other.

Re-entering the lab Kathleen was no longer there. A disturbing silence made you want to turn on your radio. Octavius was still leaning over the desk writing things down. You held the drink infront of him,

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Your eye twitched. That was the final straw. You yanked the coffee back spilling it a bit,

“My name is Y/n L/n, I may not have your money or title but I expect the same respect you’d give any man on this team. Do you understand me?” He stood up quickly. You didn’t realize he was so tall,

“Now wait a moment Y/n, just a few minutes ago you were cursing and accusing me. Respect is about the last thing on my mind when I think of you.” Ah shit, he was kinda right. You weren’t mad at him. You were just mad at the world. Still you had bad energy in your system,

“But I apologize for calling you sweetheart. It was a crude mistake.” You set both coffees down gently and folded your arms looking at your boots. Saying sorry was the right thing to do, even if it sucked,

“I’m sorry for the way I acted Dr, I guess I’m just a little upset with the pay cuts.” He paused,

“They’re cutting your pay?” You nodded and sat down in one of the metal chairs,

“Everyone here who doesn’t work 24/7 alongside you for the next month gets their pay cut in half until you’re out of here.”

“But you didn’t choose to work less, that doesn’t seem right.” You sighed and rested your head on the table,

“Tell me about it.” While enjoying the feeling of cool table on your cheek you noticed one of his papers. You grabbed it and a pencil before erasing some of his math. You could feel him focused on you,

“Staring is rude.” You said not taking your eyes off the equations,

“You seem to be as well.” Chuckling a bit he sat down and tapped your hand drawing your attention to his soft features,

“I think I know what’s bothering you.”

“I already told you what’s bothering me.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue,

“No, not that. When you left for coffee, Kathleen and I had a small talk about your behavior” Jesus, he sounds like a high school principal,

“She told me that you act like this a lot around other people. And it’s my personal hypothesis that you are intimidated by others who you believe to be smarter or better. You’re afraid of losing your job and not being able to prove yourself. I’m assuming that started in your childhood, either with an absent father figure or bullies at school.” You sat in disbelief. No one had ever really laid out your problems and made them seem so simple. Your face heated up and you clenched your hands. Why did this make you feel so stupid? Why did he think he knew more about your feelings than you did?

Standing up you turned away. Once a demanding and harsh voice was now quiet and small failing to hide your distraught,

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

————————————————

The rest of the day was slow. Your desk felt like a prison where time never moved forward. Rethinking what he said. The repeated movie in your brain of him lecturing you, All of it slowly morphed into him not making noise at all. His mouth moved but no sound, it was wonderful. You just imagined him, dark eyes, large stature looming over you, soft hands....

“Y/n?”

“Fuck!” You hit your head against the wall and turned to see Kathleen. She leaned in to make sure you’re okay, her perfume hit your nose and you tried not to seem like you were enjoying the moment too much,

“What do you need Kathy?”

“Dr Octavius asked me to give this to you.” She handed you an envelope and hastily exited the room. The crisp paper unfolded in your hands. Reading the letter was like fiery kisses to your skin. Words pouring out like water from a faucet.

Y/n,

We obviously got off on the wrong foot. I do not think of you as a subordinate and I certainly hope you do not think of me as a threat. We both overstepped personal and professional boundaries today. I apologize sincerely for making you uncomfortable. What is science if not testing the waters though? To show my attitude towards a better future working together I invite you to lunch tomorrow downtown. I will pick you up outside at 12:30

All the best,

Dr Otto Octavius

Pinning the letter up next to your project on the cork board you admired it smiling. Perhaps second impressions will set you both straight.

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter Four.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all this time to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count:

A/N: 

Chapter Four:

Bucky groaned as the alarm blared throughout the room. Rolling over to his side, he threw his head into the pillow. That didn’t stop the beeping like he had hoped, so with a groan he pushed up, smacking the red numbers that screamed at him. He rolled back onto his back and blinked up at the bare ceiling.

Today was the day…

_________________

Y/N couldn’t seem to sleep at all, so she woke up early at 6:30 jumping into the shower. Having the extra time, she took it to have a nice long soak in the hot water. The schedule of the day running through her mind.

The chance of them running into each other was practically at 100%. They had a time frame of 9-10 to get in and sign what they needed. Mr. Murdock said something along the lines that it would take about 30-45 minutes to get everything finalized and copied. 

So yeah… Within an hour frame of needed 30-45 minutes of signing shit and getting multiple copies made, meant Bucky and her would most likely be sitting next to the other as it was done. 

She let out a tired and irritated moan as she finally decided to turn off the water. She had it running for so long, her hands were prunes and the water was becoming lukewarm. The world was telling her to suck it up and move on with the day. 

____________

The car ride there was dreadful. Every stop light just elongated the inevitable meeting. Every turn brought him closer to the terrifying reunion. 

He was running early to begin with, but after hitting traffic from a wreck, he was now running just a few minutes behind. So weaving through the people who didn’t understand New York traffic was his specialty in showing up in time. 

____________

She stopped at the coffee shop by her house before really heading to the attorneys office. The car ride to the place was easy and smooth on her end. From coming from the outskirts of Brooklyn, the inner city traffic was avoided for the most part. So she was there early. She even had a second to sit in her car and drink the latte she had bought. Something about Brooklyn latte’s was 10x better than anything California had.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact they actually had cold weather to pair the hot drink with, whereas where she now lived, the lowest low in temperatures was 70 degrees. 

________________

Getting there with just 3 minutes to spare, Bucky rushed out of the car and walked with a hint of speed to the door that read Nelson and Murdock Law Firm. 

No sign of Y/N yet, but as he walked in, he heard a shout from the street that caused him to turn as soon as he walked in. He didn’t have a second to register what the shout was about as he took two steps in and ran straight into someone’s back. 

“Whoa!” he said, using his hands to brace himself on the mystery person's shoulders, and the other person making the same exclamation. “Oh God, I’m so sor-”

Before he could finish the apology, the women turned showing the face of his matured high-school-sweetheart. 

“Oh,” he let out in a breathy turn. He could tell just from past experience with her, she had a snarky comment on her tongue at the run in, but upon seeing him, the words died on her lips. “Hey.”

She looked great. Like, really great after all these years. Not that she wasn’t a beautiful gal to begin with, but you never know how someone’s going to age. However, she looked almost the same. 

Sure, she had aged some, but just like a nice bottle of the finest wine in all the vineyards of California. Maybe that was her secret given her new home. 

Her Y/H/C hair was styled in loose curls. It was voluminous with a healthy shine to it. She had on an off white, canvas dress that cinched at the waist with buttons going down it. And she had a layered gold necklace going down her chest where the buttons were undone. She looked both professional yet casual at the same time. 

Bucky realized he had been staring when she awkwardly looked around her trying to not pay attention to his analyzing eyes. 

“Hey,” she said, letting out a deep breath. 

She didn’t miss how good he looked either. Even in those facebook pictures that she had found the night before, the ones she found him just as attractive, they didn’t do the real man justice. His hair was just as long as the most recent picture his mother had posted, and he looked more muscular than she ever remembered. The scrubs didn't do his build justice. 

He was wearing a navy blue v-neck tight fitting t-shirt. A brown leather jacket that looked as though it was tailored specifically for him and him alone. And lastly, he had on a pair of jeans that of course, fit in him all the right places. 

There was a very awkward silence as they stood there not knowing what else to say. Neither now looking at the other, but instead looking at every little inanimate object item in the office. 

After what felt like eons of the most tense silence to exist, Bucky was about to speak up again, but was cut off from another person running in late.

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry guys,” the voice sighed, out of breath from what they presumed was running to get there on time. “Foggy was supposed to pick me up and we were going to ride together, but he got food poisoning last night, so I had to take the train last minute.”

The man had dark brown hair, a nice suit, and a pair of sunglasses on even though it was overcast today and the sun was barely peeking through the heavy clouds. 

“Foggy?” Y/N asked with a tilt of her head. 

Bucky turned back looking at her with the same question on his mind, but watching the small action of confusion brought him back 10 years. God, it had been so long he had almost forgotten the little mannerisms she had that he found adorable. And damn her for still having that adorable action. 

“Oh, right. Franklin Nelson. My co-attorney,” he nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were in college. Friends call him Foggy.”

“Oh, I see,” Y/N nodded with a kind smile. 

“Anyway, I won’t bore you with my morning chaos. I’m sure you two are ready to get this over with and go on about your day,” he smiled, and pulled a walking stick out from around him as he closed the door. One that neither had realized he had been holding until now. “You two much be James and Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Matthew Murdock.

“It’s nice to meet you Matthew,” Y/N replied sweetly.

“Yes, thank you for helping us out,” Bucky nodded, placing his hands nervously in his pockets. 

“It’s my pleasure. I’m so sorry about everything that you guys are having to fix,” he said apologetically. But I’m sure you guys want to go about your day, so please, right this way,” he motioned to the door that was across from them. 

Bucky and Y/N both shared an impressed look on their faces as they watched him maneuver through the office gracefully. 

They followed close behind him and once they were seated in the chairs in front of the desk, Bucky began to fidget in his spot. Sure the office had been redone and really didn’t look much like it had all those years ago, but the layout was the same. And all it was doing to him was bringing back memories he hated trudging back to the surface. 

He subtly looked over at Y/N and saw her sitting in perfect posture watching Matthew as if if she were to look at him and only him, then she wouldn’t have to face Bucky. 

Why did he expect anything less? Of course she hated him just as much as she had all those years. She was probably dreading this meeting just as much as him. That small speck of hope that maybe they could be somewhat normal and civil upon meeting again after all this time, completely faded at that point. 

“Ok, this really shouldn’t take all that much time since Foggy and I went ahead and wrote up all the things that needed signed and double checked. So we should be able to breeze through all this,” Matthew nodded, bringing up a thick file that looked as though it had tabs on the side organizing them. 

Y/N looked over wondering just how he knew the difference between documents and noticed on each tab, there were bariel markings along them. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, out of all places to live, why New York? It’s got to be hard getting around such a crazy busy city given.. ” Bucky asked, but didn’t finish not sure how to word it. Y/N snapped her head in his direction and smacked his arm. “Ow!” Bucky jumped, sending her raised eyebrows. “What the hell?”

“I’m assuming you’re asking because of this,” Matthew laughed casually as he pointed to his glasses. “Don’t worry. You would be surprised just how often I get asked that.”

“Yeah, it was just a question,” Bucky pouted toward Y/N while rubbing his assaulted arm. The two falling back into their old behaviors rather fast. 

“I wasn’t always blind. I mean I have been for a good chunk of my life, but I’ve lived in New York my whole life as well,” Matthew went on to explain as he moved papers around. “If anything it would be harder for me to get around if I moved any place else. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

“That’s impressive,” Bucky nodded, getting comfortable in his seat. 

“Eh, it’s either learn or get bumped around the sidewalk of a place full of people who don’t give a second glance to anyone who’s in their way,” Matthew shrugged. “Oh, I need to go grab something before we start.”

He maneuvered through the room leaving the door open as he went across the office. Tension filled the air as they were left alone for a second time in the past 5 minutes. 

Y/N was sitting straight forward, her eyes wandering here and there around the meeting room, but careful not to go over to Bucky’s side of the room. He looked down seeing her hands were fiddling in her lap. She was tapping her thumbs together while his leg bounced up and down.

Bucky had opened his mouth to start to say something, but even he wasn’t sure what was about to come out. Lucky for him, Matthew came back in and went back to his seat. 

“Sorry about that. I thought I had it all, but needed to get some pens and one last paper I left on the printer last night.”

“You’re fine,” Y/N said professionally, but kindly. “I have one quick question, if you don’t mind.” Matthew nodded her on with a soft smile. “What exactly happened to Hammer after all this chaos was discovered?”

“Oh, yes. He, uh, he will not be an issue to anyone else to put it lightly. His license was revoked and terminated and he is currently on trial for money laundering and malpractice,” he answered. 

“Serves him right,” Bucky mumbled, and instead of getting a smack to the arm, Y/N nodded in agreement. 

“Ok, if you two are ready, let’s begin,” Matthew smiled before grabbing the first set of papers. 

The two straightened in their seats and the process began.

After a few minutes of just signing, Matthew started to make notes of updated information for the two. 

“Ok, Mrs. Barnes, sorry, Y/N,” he corrected quickly. “What is your line of profession at the moment?”

“I work at Horizon Labs in L.A. It’s a company a friend and I from college started up. I’m a Sustainable-Conscious Financial Advisor for a lot of smaller businesses as well as some bigger ones we recently just became partners with,” she answered. 

“Horizon Labs, huh?” Matthew said with an impressed look. Bucky turned to look at her as she lightly blushed. “I think I listened to a podcast about them. You guys help companies use recycled goods and find energy efficient technology, right?”

“We just redirect them to people who can help them get those resources. It’s practically just connecting the companies that would work great together in helping the environment,” she nodded humbly. 

“That’s amazing,” Matthew smiled. “We need more people and companies like that.”

“Thank you.”

He made note of that on a computer. “I’m assuming with all that, you have to be a little too busy for a second job, right? I don’t need to make note of another?”

“Uh, actually,” she added, Bucky’s already focused eyes on her quirked at her response. “I just invested in a Woman’s shelter with another friend of mine. I haven’t really got to do much with it, but it is a second job as of lately.”

“Wait? Nat?” Bucky caught on.

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded almost shyly. Probably the second time out of this whole meeting that she actually made eye contact with him. “My company works with them in getting some of the resources and items they need for the shelter. I talked with Nat and I invested into it some to help with some with their financial advisements.” 

“Wow, th-that’s,” Bucky faltered. “That sounds like you,” he said with a breathy laugh thinking about how maybe she really hadn’t changed all these years. That being one of the ‘reasons’ they had broken it off, how people change and all. But that’s a story for another time.

Y/N didn’t show a response to his words, but she did take them in. 

“So you run a woman’s home and you run a well-off business that promotes eco-friendly resources for the environment?”

“Well, I don’t run the woman’s home. That’s all my friends doing. I just help where help is asked if I can,” she answered once again humbly. No sense of egotistical pride hinted in her explanations or answers. 

“That’s extremely impressive Y/N,” Matthew gushed some, and Bucky noticed the smallest form of attraction come off the lawyer. He straightened at that. “I’ll make a note of it. And you Mr. Barnes. What is your occupation?”

Bucky relaxed his shoulders and focused back at the issue at hand. Trying to not get jealous of something that wasn’t even his to be jealous of. 

“I’m one of the head occupational therapist at Stark Theracorp,” he answered. Now it was Y/N’s turn to look at him intrigued. “I run the geriatric occupational therapy floor and manage our equipment and employees. ”

“Two very impressive people in the work field from what I’m getting,” Matthew chuckled some as he made the notes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to ask about income from the both of you for the record. If you want to write it on a paper and hand it to me you can or if you are comfortable saying it outloud that works too. Either way, I’ll have Foggy add it in later to the finalized papers.”

“Wait, so we aren’t finalizing it today?” Y/N asked, somewhat shocked. 

“Did Foggy not tell you?” Matthew asked. “I thought he reached out to you before this meeting.”

“I don’t believe so,” Y/N shook her head. 

“Well, the reason this one is so quick is because I just need a few signatures and updated notes on you two. After that, I’ll make the altercations for the official papers and I’ll send those to you both on their own to get the final signature. You can either bring them to me here, fax them, or have them sent via mail after you signed off on them.”

“Oh, I see,” Y/N nodded. The look of defeat in her posture and facial expressions.

It hurt Bucky a little seeing her reaction to it. Did she really want to get away from him that bad? Was he that much of a nuisance in her life? I mean, yeah, they were supposed to be divorced 9 years ago, but he didn’t want it then and it still hurt seeing just how much she wanted it now. 

“That’s not an issue is it? I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Matthew apologized. 

“No, no. It’s ok,” she said in reassurance to him. But she let out an almost bitter laugh before she spoke again. “We’ve been married for the past 9 years apparently. What’s a few more days?”

“I guess that’s true,” Matthew laughed with her. 

Bucky rolled his eyes discreetly. He really hated how she was reacting with all this. It wasn’t surprising, but doesn’t mean it hurts any less seeing how badly she wanted out of the situation.  

“Mr. Barnes, are you ok with that?” 

“I’ll survive a few more days, I guess,” he returned just as bitterly as Y/N. The two looked at each other one more time, but this time, anger and annoyance was clear on both of their faces.

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[nctsjiho]

How Haechan And JiHo’s Friendship Evolved Over The Years [Part 2]

PART 1

[2018 | Role Model | New York]

“And I have a question for JiHo.” JiHo turned her head towards the interviewer who just mentioned her name. “You’re a fairly new addition to the group.” The girl nodded along with his words. “The boys have been singers for a few years now, is there anyone in the group who you particularly look up to?”

The fans in the studio ooh in interest as JiHo looks at the boys in thought. Meanwhile, Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun translate the question to the other boys who now look at her expectantly. “Hmm. I guess...” She then looks to her right and motions her hand towards Haechan.

The boy looks surprised - as do the others - when he realises he got chosen. The fans on the other hand begin cheering. “Since we’re only a few months apart in age I can relate to Haechan a lot more. He’s really good at everything he puts his mind to and he also has a great personality.” She explained seriously but Jaehyun on her left side can’t help but smile brightly.

The interviewer noticed how Jaehyun and Mark whispered among themselves and asked what was wrong. “Oh nothing.” Jaehyun said between chuckles. “JiHo just fed Haechan’s ego, he’s not going to let her live this one down for a while.” Mark added.

And by the looks of it Mark was right, because right after Johnny finished translating JiHo’s words to Haechan, the youngest boy had a big grin on his face. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as looked down on his lap. This caused JiHo to sigh. “You can never just be nice to anyone here.” She said in a light-hearted tone.

[2019 | Cheat Day | Rooftop Café in Seoul]

“And let’s work hard during our promotions! NCT fighting on three!” Yuta yelled holding his glass up high. Everyone followed and Yuta started counting. “One, two, three!” “NCT fighting!” Everyone yelled in unison.

The promotions for ‘Superhuman’ were beginning the following week, so NCT and their staff had decided to have a little kick-off party to start things on a high note. They were all gathered together on the rooftop of one of Seoul’s café’s with the best view, cooking food and grilling meat together - of course with the required drinks for everyone who was legal and wanted to drink.

Haechan stood with his plate next to Johnny who was in charge of grilling the meat. “Can I have some more hyung?” He asked, acting cute. “I already gave you so much.” Johnny laughed but continued adding more meat to the younger boy’s plate.

As Haechan moved over to the next table with food he noticed JiHo sitting alone poking at the food on her almost empty plate. He carefully approached her and sat down next to her. “Are you not eating?” At his voice JiHo jumped a little and then sat straight in her chair. “You scared me.” She gasped causing the boy to chuckle. He then pointed his chopsticks at the girl’s plate to redirect her attention.

“I’m not really hungry.” She sighed. “Well don’t mind if I do.” He reached out his chopsticks and grabbed the half of a boiled egg that was sitting on her plate. Shoving it in his mouth he sent her a wink. “Yah! You’re so annoying.” She pushed him by his shoulder and watched as Haechan choked on the piece of egg. He quickly regained his composure though so JiHo wasn’t worried.

He watched carefully as the girl grumbled to herself whilst continuously poking at her food. “Somethings wrong. Tell your role model what’s wrong. Maybe my sexy brain can think of a solution.” Completely taken aback by her member’s word, JiHo sent Haechan a disgusted look. “First off all, you should stop referring to yourself as my role model, I already regret calling you that a year ago. And secondly, I never said you had a sexy brain.” She fake gagged. “But you were thinking it.”

The smirk on Haechan’s face definitely annoyed the girl, but she had gotten very used to it by now and actually found that his annoying attempt to cheer her up was working. “The new manager put my on a diet again, and I seriously hate eggs, chicken tastes like cardboard to me and I’m sick of eating raw tomatoes and salad.” “Why don’t you just get food that you like?” Haechan asked nonchalantly, grabbing the other half of the abandoned egg from her plate. “He’s watching me like a hawk up there. He almost grabbed my plate to pick up the food for me.” She sighed.

Haechan took a few seconds to think and scratch his non-existent beard. “He doesn’t let you get the food you want. That’s what you said right?” JiHo nodded and watched as Haechan’s face lit up. “Wait here.”

JiHo waited alone for a few minutes until she saw Haechan approach her again with Jungwoo and each had two plates with them. Placing them in the middle of the table Jungwoo and Haechan sat down next to the girl. “Let’s feast!” Haechan beamed. She just watched as her 2 members began eating carelessly. “He isn’t watching. Just eat.” The youngest of the two boys said patting her shoulder.

A smile found its way on JiHo’s lips as she finally dug in, grateful that her friends were there to help her cheat her diet and feel more comfortable.

[2020 | Su Casa Mi Casa | NCT Dorm, 5th floor]

“He definitely fell on his butt.” “Wasn’t he embarrassed?” “It’s Mark I’m talking about, of course he was, but we’re so used to it now. So no one called him out for it.” JiHo giggled. She was video chatting with one of her friends from back home in France, while getting ready for bed. “I swear to God, your friends are so weird!” “Hey, you’re also my friend.” JiHo reminded the girl on the other side of the screen.

Suddenly the door to JiHo’s room opened and in walked Haechan. Wearing comfortable clothes and with a Nintendo Switch in hand he blindly fell onto JiHo’s bed. “Wait a second.” JiHo told her friend and turned her attention to the intruder. “What are you doing?”

Acting as if JiHo’s presence was new to him, Haechan looked at the girl with a raised eyebrow. “Hmm?” She shook her head at his clueless tone. “I’m talking to my friend right now. What are you doing here?” “I’m not bothering you right? You can just continue. It’s not as if I can understand what you’re saying anyway.”

JiHo rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him. “What’s going on?” JiHo’s friend asked with a giggle, amused by JiHo’s I’m-so-done-with-him look. “Haechan mistook my room for his again.” Haechan perked up at the mention of his name, but JiHo continued to ignore him. “Ow, don’t act like you mind. You’ve told me otherwise before anyway!” Her friend exposed her and JiHo rolled her eyes. “Okay~ Whatever.”

The conversation between JiHo and her friend continued on for another 15 minutes and when JiHo finished her night skin-care routine the friends ended the call.

“Move.” JiHo motioned Haechan to move over as she sat down next to him and watched the game he was playing. “Did Johnny oppa get mad at you bothering him too much or what?” “Nope, I just like your room, it smells nice here.” A puff of air escaped JiHo’s lips, which were turned up into a smile. “It’s called ventilation and a lot less hormones.” This time it was Haechan’s turn to roll his eyes.

When Haechan didn’t say anything - which JiHo did not expect - the girl spoke up once more. “Okay, I know you like how my room smells or whatever, but it’s still my room.” “You don’t care when people enter your room.” Haechan stated. “I don’t, but not at midnight when I’m about to go to bed.” “You don’t care if it’s Lucas.” “It’s because I like Lucas more than you.” JiHo stuck out her tongue and Haechan mirrored her mockingly.

Getting slightly annoyed JiHo pushed Haechan by his arm. “I want to sleep.” “I have every right to be here.” “What? No you don’t. It’s my room.” JiHo countered.

Finally Haechan put down his Switch and turned to the “annoyed” girl. “What’s the saying? Su casa mi casa?” “It’s mi casa su casa, you idiot.” JiHo couldn’t help but snicker at the boy’s mistake. “And also that doesn’t work here, because it’s both our house. We live together.” “Well more reasons that I have every right to be here.” Haechan grabbed his Switch again and laid back in a comfortable position. “Now move, I’m about to beat this level.” He bit his lip, focussing on his game.

A loud groan left JiHo’s lips as she stood up and grabbed her pillow. “What are you doing?” Haechan asked wide-eyed as the girl turned towards the door. “I’m either sleeping in Doyoung’s room or stealing your bed.” She explained and started to walk away, but Haechan stopped her and pulled her by her wrist. “What?” “How am I going to annoy you when you’re not in the same room?” JiHo squinted at Haechan and tried to walk away again, only to be pulled back once more. “Haechan-” “Wait, just stay here and watch me beat this last level. Please.” He pleaded sweetly and JiHo couldn’t help but sit back down next to him.

For about an hour JiHo watched over Haechan’s shoulder as he tried to beat the boss level of his game. Once he finally finished it he noticed how she had already fallen asleep. A chuckle left his lips as he climbed over her until he was standing beside the bed. Haechan pulled the blanket over her body and made his way back to his room.

[2021 | Lara Croft | SM Practise Room]

Dream was definitely one of the louder and more chaotic units within NCT. So when Mark entered the room he wasn’t surprised to see Jeno trying to fight Jisung and Chenle trying, and succeeding, to annoy Renjun. What he didn’t expect to see was Jaemin watching Haechan braid JiHo’s hair with the most focussed expression.

“What’s going on here?” Mark chuckled confused as he settled next to Jaemin. “He wasn’t going to stop bothering me until I let him braid my hair.” JiHo explained. “Your hair is finally long enough, I don’t get why you always kept your hair short.” “Why? You don’t like my hair short?” JiHo questioned looking slightly offended. “No! I didn’t mean it like that.” He then placed both hands on her cheeks and turned her head so she was facing the front - away from him - again.

Mark gave up on asking more questions and decided that a conversation with Jaemin would be a better idea. A few minutes passed until Haechan let out a loud screech. “DONE!” “Don’t yell like that!” JiHo scolded the boy and hit his thigh.

JiHo then looked at Jaemin and Mark expectantly. “How does it look?” “Uhm. I guess you kinda look like Lara Croft?” Mark said hesitantly. JiHo seemed to be pleased with the answer and started walked towards the mirror. “Yeah if she took a big ass tumble.” Haechan quickly added just as JiHo could inspect her reflection.

“Lee Haechan!” The braid that fell over her shoulder looked, for a lack of a better word, rough. The three strands of the braid were completely uneven and some parts of her hair stuck out of the braid. “I thought you knew what you were doing?” “I thought so too. I guess I just need more practise.” He bashfully replied, fingertips scratching the back of his head.

Soon enough the choreographer entered the room and the guys began their practise. JiHo had filled in for Mark while he had to miss the first 2 practises, so she was there to help him find his place in the different formations.

Going through some of the moves JiHo ended up getting knocked over by Jeno. He quickly helped her up and apologised. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled and the other boys began teasing her for “messing up”. The comments were all very light hearted and JiHo could laugh with all of them, but Haechan decided to throw a little harsher comment. “JiHo, you had one job and you couldn’t even do that!” He dramatically threw his hands up in the air.

“Excuse you, Haechan-ssi.” She emphasised the formal way of addressing him. “I came to help you guys, but if you want to I can leave.” She said while making her way to the door of the practise room. “Wait! Don’t leave!”

Haechan pulled the girl towards him, enveloping her tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry!” He apologised profusely to which JiHo, and the other boys, began laughing. “Why? You don’t really need me, I think Mark got everything down. No?” She eyed Mark and he nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m all set.” “No! You know Mark hyung. He forgets easily, you need to stay until the last practise.” Mark scoffed at the minor insult towards him, but couldn’t help but smile fondly watching how clingy Haechan was towards the girl.

“Okay, I was just joking. I’ll stay, so let me go.” “What are you talking about?” Haechan said while still suffocating the girl in a tight hug. “You’re still holding me. Let go.” She tapped his arm a few times to signal he should let her go. “No I’m not.” His smile wasn’t visible to JiHo, but the rest of the boys could see how much he enjoyed teasing - or it could be holding - JiHo. “Guys please help.” She reached her hand out towards the other boys, but they just watched the girl struggle while Haechan seemed to be having the time of his life.

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass part 2 ~ spencer reid

i move to new york but i can’t seem to escape spencer reid 

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

word count: 15.4k (got a bit carried away lol)

read part 1 here!

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

it’s snowing in new york.

i groan internally, resting my head in my hand as i stare out the window.

it’s half past six and most of my co-workers have already left for the night, but i’m still trying to mentally prepare myself to venture out in the cold.

“hey!” agent cole greets me as he flops into his chair at the desk next to mine, a mountain of papers in his arms.

“hey,” i mumble in response, “you’ve got a small rainforest there,” i motion with my head to the folders he has now spread across his desk.

“yeah, the bishop is laying it on me thick this week. you make one mistake in this place and its paperwork, paperwork, paperwork for a month. i need to get through this by lunchtime tomorrow.”

i pause and glance out the window again. i really hate the cold.

“i can give you a hand if you want-”

i’m about to suggest that he hand me over half of his files, but before i know it agent cole is leaping to his feet and flinging on his coat, “you are a lifesaver let me tell you that, god bless fitz for bringing you over from quantico!”

he’s scooping up the folders in his arms and dumping them onto my desk.

“oh! i meant that-”

“thanks again, really appreciate it!” agent cole cheers and before i can protest he’s already past the double glass doors and clambering into the elevator, he gives me a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him.

“no problem…” i say to myself.

i shuffle into the breakroom and put on a fresh pot of coffee, i’m going to need it. i fill up a mug and envelop my hands around it as i sit back down at my desk, the heat from the coffee warms my numb fingers enough to hold a pen between them. i make a start on agent cole’s paperwork.

it’s a few hours and many cups of bitter coffee later when agent fitz appears from his office, he’s wrapping a thick, wool, scarf around his neck when he passes my desk and pauses.

“you’re still here?”

“yeah…paperwork,” i say, pointing to the pile of folders i don’t even seem to have made a dent in.

he raises an eyebrow, “your file said you were efficient, but i didn’t think that even you had the ability to fill out paperwork on cases we haven’t even worked yet.”

i laugh nervously, “what do you mean, sir?”

“well, my role as assistant unit chief to agent bishop involves ensuring that all agents are up to date with their paperwork, so i know that all of your cases have been written up, reviewed and filed. so you either have some kind of psychic ability that allows you to predict your future cases and do their paperwork, or this isn’t yours.”

i can’t tell from his tone whether he is annoyed or amused.

“right,” i nod slowly, “see the thing is sir, agent cole had all of this paperwork to do and i offered to help him, only he thought i was offering to-”

“to take it all?”

“yes, exactly. agent fitz, sir.”

he takes a sharp intake of breath in through his nose, “i think that agent cole knew fine well what you meant.”

“what? then why would he-”

“can i give you some advice?”

“y-yes. of course, agent fitz. go ahead.”

“you’re a very nice person, but you’ve been here six months now so you don’t need to worry about making a good first impression anymore-”

“i’m not,” i say defensively, “i just wanted to help out a fellow agent, we used to do it at the bau all the time-”

he gives me a look.

“sorry for interrupting agent fitz, sir.”

“you’re not in quantico anymore honey, this is new york. so my advice to you is to stop being so nice, because i hate to be the one to break it to you but agent cole has taken advantage of your niceness big time here.”

“so your advice to me is to be mean because right now i’m too nice?”

“not mean, just firm. agent cole was given the extra paperwork as a consequence of his own actions, and because you’re too nice, you’re still at the office filling out reports while he’s relaxing at home.”

“be less nice, got it,” i nod and stare down at my hands, unable to believe that i fell for that, i’m supposed to be a profiler, “thank you, agent fitz,” i smile at him.

“just call me fitz, everyone does,” he says as he begins to unwind his scarf.

“what are you doing? you’ll freeze out there without that-”

“we’ll get through this in half the time if we split it,” he shrugs, “i’m gonna grab a coffee, do you want one?”

i jump to my feet, “it’s okay, i can get the coffee-”

“have you forgotten my advice already?”

i can feel the heat flooding to my face, “don’t be too nice, got it,” i sit back down again and twirl my pen.

“see, you’re learning,” he lifts my mug from my desk, “any cream or sugar?”

i shake my head.

he nods and moves into the breakroom.

i let out the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i’d been here sixth months, i thought i was finally fitting in. everything was different in new york, the way of working, the people, the humour. something that would’ve sent spencer into a fit of giggles back in virginia would only earn you a concerned stare here.

or maybe that was just spencer and i’s sense of humour, we got looks back in quantico too. but it was okay because i was with him. it had been six months and the promises of texts, phone calls, emails and letters had withered away.

jj was the only one i still regularly heard from, we called every week.

there was the occasional text from morgan, and garcia.

emails from hotch and rossi.

but from spencer, it was radio silence. i told myself it was because he was a technophobe, and he hated texting on that tiny little phone of his.

“the buttons are too small,” he’d complain.

yet my suggestion of him updating to a modern model was ‘out of the question’, i understood he didn’t like it, but i didn’t understand why he wouldn’t make the effort.

maybe i would’ve confronted him about it if i’d had the nerve, if i wasn’t too nice.

“there we are,” fitz says, placing a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

“thank you, agen-,” i pause, “thank you fitz.”

he smiles and takes a pile of papers from my desk as he sits in agent cole’s seat.

too nice, the words echo in my head.

if i hadn’t been so intent on being the nice, sweet, helpful new girl i could be at home by now. granted my tiny apartment wasn’t much to go back to, but it was something. i had a chance for a fresh start here and i wanted to be the girl that people liked and respected. i wanted things to be different but i’m just as spineless as i’d been in qunatico.

all honey, no glass.

“you’re leaving?”

“yeah.”

“when?”

“two weeks.”

spencer gets up from the couch and storms away from me, he stares out the window, “so you’re leaving your job in the bau - one of the most sought-after jobs in the bureau - to work for the counter terrorism division in new york?”

he almost sneers ‘counter terrorism division’ at me and i’m taken aback. the spencer in front of me isn’t the spencer that i love, i close my eyes and tell myself that he’s just being defensive. i’ve known him long enough to recognise his abandonment issues.

“why are you saying counter terrorism like that? like it’s a step down for me? because it’s not. it’s better hours, better pay-”

“cost of living is higher in new york city!”

“and my new salary will be more than enough to cover it! they’re also helping me with moving expenses, helping me find an apartment – they really want me over there, spencer,” i run a hand through my hair, “do you know what that’s like for me? to have someone want me so much that they’d pay me 20% above the standard salary-”

“so this is about money for you then?” he says bitterly.

“no! it’s about someone valuing me and what i can do. it’s about someone thinking that i’m good enough and giving me the chance to prove that to myself.”

 “and what, you think that we don’t value you?”

 “i didn’t say that spencer, i’m just saying that i have a chance to excel over there and be a better agent. i’m a good profiler, but i’m not a great one, even you can see that. i’ll be happier when i’m finally in an environment where i don’t need to put myself down and compare myself to everyone around me.”

 “please stay,” he pleads, “can’t you stay for me? everyone is leaving or dying. please, you can’t leave me too.”

 spencer reid is standing in front of me with tears in his eyes begging me not to go, and i want nothing more than to rush to him and promise that i will never abandon him. if i hadn’t already signed a binding contract, i would probably be in his arms now.

 i shake my head, “i’m sorry spencer, it’s already been decided. i’m only staying these extra two weeks to give hotch a chance to find someone else, i didn’t want you to be down two agents.”

 spencer clenches his fist, “i can’t believe this is really happening. jj left, and now you’re leaving too. emily hasn’t even been dead a month and-”

 “you think i don’t know that? you think i just forgot that emily died? you aren’t the only one suffering here spencer! agent fitz brought up transferring to me over a year ago, i called him up about it before jj left for the state department and i was meant to go to new york weeks ago!”

 i close my eyes and take a shaky breath before i can bring myself to continue.

 “and then emily died. and i stayed because we were all grieving and i wanted to be close to you guys, but i can’t put my life on hold forever, i can’t expect agent bishop and agent fitz to keep the job open for me forever, it’s time for me to go.”

 “why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

 “because emily’s death hit you really hard and i-”

 “no, before that. you said that you were planning this before jj left, why did you wait so long?”

 “because after i called agent fitz i needed to do interviews and go through another round of interviews and interrogations, they’re really strict on security over there. it took weeks for me to even find out if they would grant me the security clearance required for the job, i wanted to be sure i was going before i said anything. and then jj left, and i was getting ready to go when emily needed help with doyle, and i told myself i would stay for once more case and then-”

 i have to stop because there’s a lump in my throat and my body is trembling. the memories of emily’s death are still so fresh in my mind, i want to curl up under a blanket and never come out when i think about her corpse, rotting away under the ground.

 “please don’t go, i need you,” he says, not even trying to disguise the way his voice cracks.

 i shake my head, “no you don’t.”

 he doesn’t. he has morgan, and hotch, and garcia, and rossi. and most importantly jj. i know that when he’s not crying in my arms, he’s crying in hers. i know the only nights he chooses me over her are the nights when she’s busy with will, or henry or something classified at the all-mighty state department.

 “yes, i do! you’re the only one who’s there for me 100% of the time, you’re the only person i can talk to about jj-”

 the only person i can talk to about jj. there we go, that’s the reason he wants me to stay. i don’t know why i’m so surprised, or why it hurts so much to hear. i should be used to it by now.

 “i can’t just hang around because you need a shoulder to cry on.”

 i must’ve let more venom slip into my voice than i intended because spencer’s face drops immediately.

 “i-i didn’t mean that, i just meant that you’re my best friend and i don’t know what i’ll do without you.”

 best friend. i can’t bring myself to respond.

 “is that what it is? are you leaving because of me? do you think that i don’t appreciate you, that i just think of you as a shoulder to cry on? because i don’t think that at all-”

 “spencer, you haven’t done anything wrong, i’m not leaving because of you, okay?”

 that’s a lie. and i hate lying to him, but he’s so busy pacing and running his hands through his hair that he doesn’t detect the guilt plastered across my face. spencer is the primary reason for my leaving, but not in the way that he thinks.

 “are you sure?” he asks frantically, “have i done something to upset you? don’t you want to be my friend anymore-”

 it’s ironic how spot on he is, whilst still being utterly oblivious to my feelings for him. i’m leaving because he unknowingly devastates me every day, i’m leaving because i don’t want to be just his friend, i want to be more but that can never happen.

 because he still loves jj. and i know that i can never be happy sitting on the sidelines of his tortured longing. i’m only trying to do what’s best for myself, but when i look at the pained expression on his face i can’t help but feel like a selfish bitch, i’m abandoning him when he needs me most.  

 “look, spencer i’m moving to new york, not australia, it’s not even that far. And we can text, and call each other and email, we can even send good old-fashioned letters if you’d prefer. this isn’t the end of the world.”

 “i think i could manage a text.”

 “really?”

 “yeah, i won’t like it. but i’d do it for you, like i said, you’re my best friend.”

 “are you okay? you look kind of zoned out” fitz asks.

 i place my phone down on my desk, “yeah i’m fine. it’s just…nevermind.”

 “hey, come on. you can tell me.”

 “i just got a call from my friend spencer, we worked together back in quantico but he wasn’t thrilled when i moved here and we never really kept up with texting or emails. i haven’t heard his voice since i left…i was just thinking about the day i told him i was leaving,” i drum my nails against my desk, “it was so long ago now, but it hurts like it was yesterday.”

 “sounds like you guys were close,” he comments carefully.

 “yeah, we were.”

 “so what did he want?”

 “um…him and my other old colleagues, they’re planning a surprise wedding for jj. she’s my best friend, she works with them too.”

 “are you gonna go?” he pauses, trying to gauge my response, “i mean you haven’t been back to virginia since you took the job.”

 i nod, “i know, i didn’t even go to see emily when she came back to life,” i say, my voice mixed with bitterness and guilt.

 fitz reaches over and takes my hand, “and we prevented a potential biochemical attack that week, and a bomb in the subway the week after, and a potential hijacking the week after-”

 i roll my eyes lightly, “i get the point, fitz. we’re always busy saving lives, but i don’t know if that’s a good enough excuse for being such a shitty friend.”

 “they work even crazier hours than us, i think they’ll understand,” he pauses, “i also think that you’re making excuses, and there’s a different reason that you don’t want to go.”

 “i thought i told you not to profile me.”

 “it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out there’s something going on, i’m willing to bet it’s the same reason you wanted to leave in the first place.”

 i smile sadly at him, “you got me there, fitz. i’m in love with my best friend, but he’s in love with the bride, who happens to be my other best friend. only he isn’t the groom.”

 i feel sick at the thought of watching spencer watch jj get married. he is exceptionally good at pretending to be happy, and i’m sure he’ll have the others fooled. but none of them know that he’s in love with her, they don’t know that his feelings evolved to anything beyond a silly, little crush.

 i feel sick at the thought of watching him slap a smile on his face, and shake will’s hand, and make a toast. i don’t doubt that there will be a part of him that is happy for her; the thing about loving someone the way i love him and he loves her is that is that seeing them happy gives you this sickly, jittery, joy.

 it makes your heart race and your hands tremble, and it feels almost like happiness. but its sticky and catches in your throat like honey so you can barely choke out the words to convey how fucking happy you are for them. even honey attracts flies.

 “shit,” fitz says.

 “yeah, shit.”

 all honey, no glass.

 it’s jj’s wedding.

i wanted fitz to come with me but he couldn’t get out of work, we were swamped at the moment, but he’s still insisted that i go. he drove me to the airport and practically forced me through security, and now i was standing in the kitchen of rossi’s mansion as emily refilled my wine.

i took a sip of it and smiled at her. she was the one good thing that had come out of this trip so far, i hadn’t seen her since she came back from the dead and i had been so worried she would resent me for not coming to see her sooner.

but instead she offered to pick me up from the airport and let me stay with her for the weekend, she really was a good friend. i missed my old friends, and it was nice to see everyone again. but i was already exhausted from avoiding spencer and jj hadn’t even arrived yet.

i was drinking my wine far too fast, relishing in the warm euphoria it granted me. it allows me to float through the rest of the evening, i help jj pin up her hair when her mom brings her own wedding dress for her to change into. i wipe her tears when she stares at herself in the mirror. i tell her she looks beautiful, and she really does.

i don’t speak to spencer until the ceremony is about to begin, i squeeze in next to him and mumble my hellos. he doesn’t respond and i know it’s because he’s focusing all of his energy on keeping himself together, i wrap my hand around his and squeeze it gently.

he has tears in his eyes when will and jj kiss, and so do i because i am watching him watch her and i can see his heart breaking with every micro expression. my heart aches for him because his world is falling apart in front of his eyes and he has to pretend to be happy about it.

when jj turns her head i see how widely she is grinning as she clings on to her new husband. spencer sees it too because something in him shifts and i see that sticky, artificial happiness bubble to the surface and before i know it he has dropped my hand and rushes to congratulate the happy couple.

i hang around emily and morgan for most of the night, she keeps my glass full and he doesn’t tease me about my defecting to another division. i know they know something is going on, but they don’t question me about it and i am so grateful for it.

i excuse myself from their company when i see spencer sitting slumped on the patio alone. he’s half hidden behind a pillar but i can see his feet sticking out so i shuffle over to him, my mind dizzy with wine as i take a seat beside him.

“hey.”

“hey.”

“are you alright?” i ask.

he nods stiffly, “fine, just tired – it’s been a busy week. how are things in new york?”

i sip my wine, “yeah not bad, just busy…” i say, my voice trails off and i mentally kick myself for failing to think of a better word, “spencer, can i ask you something?”

“yeah,” he says flatly, “why not.”

“okay…” his dulcet exterior makes me hesitate but i force myself to continue, because fitz told me to grow a backbone and i don’t know when i’ll get that chance again, “i was just wondering why you never called me, or texted, or emailed. we were best friends before i left and now you feel like a stranger to me.”

he shrugs and takes a swig of beer.

“is that all i’m gonna get? a shrug,” i scoff.

i know that he’s upset about jj, my heart is bleeding for him and i understand better than anyone how he is feeling. but even i can see that i deserve more than a shrug from him after a year of no communication.

“spencer, i know how you’re feeling but-”

“no you don’t,” he snaps.

i bite my tongue.

“i want to be here for you spencer, but i can’t do that if you’re going to be a mood-”

he titled his head to look at me, his eyes are dark and empty, “if you wanted to help me so badly then why did you leave?”

i open my mouth to speak but he raises a hand to silence me.

“you want to know why i didn’t call you?” he slurs, “because i was pissed at you, everyone was leaving and dying, and you left too. and then emily came back and everyone was acting like i was crazy for being so angry about it, and you weren’t here,” his voice splits, “i know it’s not an excuse and i’m sorry if i upset you but not having you here just hurt so bad and somehow texting and phone calls made it hurt more.”

i pause, “are you trying to say you missed me so much that you couldn’t call me?”

“like i said, its not an excuse but-”

“no, it isn’t” i spit.

i’ve never been angry at him before because any of the hurt and heartbreak he inflicted on me was unintentional. but now something is burning in the pit of my stomach because he ghosted me for the best part of the year and the best excuse, he can come up with is that it hurt him too bad.

“how do you think i felt spencer?” i hiss, “when i was all alone in another state and my best friend wouldn’t return my calls? i spent so long feeling guilty for leaving you but you weren’t alone. you still had everyone else, i was the one who was alone. you had jj and-”

his grip on his bottle tightened, “i didn’t have her, she was lying to me about emily and then even when we made up from that things were never the same…” he holds his head in his hands, “i’m trying to be happy for her but it just hurts so much…”

he wipes his eyes, “i’m sorry, i should be asking you about new york, not making you listen to the same pathetic sob story that you’ve heard a hundred time before.”

i wrap an arm around him, “spencer, trust me i know how much it hurts but…it’ll get better, okay? one day you’ll get over her, and you find some genius, scientist girlfriend who loves you back and then you won’t hurt anymore.”

“how do you know?” he croaks.

i sigh, “because you might love jj but she just isn’t right for you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone who-”

he shakes his head, “not that, you keep saying you understand, and you know hoe much it hurts – but how do you know?”

his eyes are wide and teary, and he hiccups as he stares at me. i have to look away because the blood is pounding in my ears, i feel dizzy but its not just from the wine. we’re outside in the cool air but i feel like i’m burning up and i recoil away from him.

“spencer, that’s not important-”

“yes, it is. i wanna know. i wanna know how you think you know how i feel to the extent you can give me advice-”

he’s drunk.

“and tell me its all going to be okay, but you don’t know that! because how could you know what i’m feeling-”

he’s raising his voice now.

“spencer, you need to be quiet. someone will hear you-”

“i need to know what gives you the right to tell me that i’ll find love when you don’t even know what-”

“i know what it feels like because i am in love with you!” i finally snap, the words slip out before i can stop them and i slap my hands over my mouth, “oh god…i didn’t mean to say that….”

spencer is staring at me blankly, but slowly his stoic expression begins to melt into one of pity and sympathy. i can see his brain working overtime behind his beautiful honey and glass eyes, thinking of all the different ways he can let me down easy.

he opens his mouth.

“you don’t have to say anything,” i squeak, “i didn’t mean to say that…so stupid…can we please just forget about it?” i plead.

“d-did you mean it? you love me?”

his pitiful stare burns through me and i can’t stand it. i would rather have him glare at me with pure hatred in his eyes than this agonizing brand of sympathy, it makes me feel sick. my legs are shaking, my hands are shaking, my whole body is shaking and i realise it’s because my chest is racked with sobs.

i nod, “i-i mean it,” is all i manage to choke out.

his arms are wrapped around me, and in any other circumstance i would sink into them but now my body is rigid, and his embrace is suffocating. i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe under the crushing impact of knowing that i’ve fucked up a decade of friendship in less than five seconds because i couldn’t keep my emotions under control.

“i’m so sorry, you know that i care so much about you,” he says softly, “but i just don’t see you in that way-”

“it’s fine spencer,” i sniffle, “you don’t need to tell me that, i’m already well aware of that fact,” my voice is laced with far more venom than i tend but in this moment i can’t bring myself to care.

“how long?”

i’m laughing through the tears, i don’t know why because its not funny.

“ten years, give or take.”

“oh.”

oh. that’s all i get.

they say that when a burn is bad enough it incinerates the nerve endings, so you don’t feel any pain. a burst of excruciating agony and then nothingness. that’s how i feel, i’ve spent years wallowing in my own heartbreak and now that i’ve told him the truth, i just feel numb.

my sticky, sweet exterior is melting away with every passing second and pitiful glance and i don’t think i want to see what’s underneath. i push spencer’s arms off my body, and he doesn’t protest.

i sneak through the double glass doors and into the kitchen, that’s where the wine is. it warms my throat and my stomach, proving some solace from the deep-seated chill i feel in my bones.

the lights of the kitchen reflect off the glass so much that i can’t see past the glare to tell if spencer is still there. i shuffle towards the doors and press my forehead against the cool glass. spencer is gone but i like the way the window feels against my skin.

its smooth, and hard, and cold.

when your world has fallen apart, anything can be a source of comfort. and i don’t have anything left to give, so i close my eyes and rest against the chilled surface.

no honey, all glass.

the office is swarming with new recruits, they’ve descended on us like plagues of locusts and i am not in the mood for it. they’re eager and naïve as they attentively takes note of agent bishop’s words.

“…now I don’t want you to think that counter terrorism is all like what you see in the movies,” he drawls, “its not all action and defusing bombs, its patience and paperwork, careful observation and analysis – it takes more discipline to work in this division than any other in the bureau. its hard work, but it’s worth it as agents tell you,” he says, indicating towards fitz and myself.

he gives them a determined nod, i muster up a half-hearted shrug from my position leaning against the filing cabinet in the corner. i’m really not in the mood.

bishop’s phone chimes and his brow furrows ash his eyes scan the screen, “it is also unpredictable at times, so you’ll have to excuse me. but i leave you in the capable hands of my two right hand agents, they’ll be more than happy to lead the rest of the seminar,” he gives us both a quick nod before he darts out of the room.

fitz moves to the center of the room, “well, agent bishop had pretty much covered the lecture section of the session. next we are going to move onto some basic training scenarios, i will outline a situation and if you think have a strategy just shout it out, how does that sound?”

he is talking to the trainees but looking at me, he fidgets with his collar. he’s nervous, and he’s waiting for me to give him some reassurance. i force the corners of my lips to curl upwards, and it seems to give him enough confidence to continue.

he uses the remote to change the slides on the projector screen behind him and begins to list scenarios. the newbies are falling over themselves to catch his attention long enough for him to call on them. their enthusiasm and passion should inspire me, but it makes something in my stomach twist and there’s sharp anger burning through my body.

they’re all so fucking happy. so eager to see what their years at the bureau will bring them. all i got was heartbreak and rejection, but i don’t think agent bishop would appreciate me saying that so i keep my lips tightly pressed together.

“…and then i would diffuse the bomb and-”

“you would what?” i say.

the recruit shrinks back slightly when he feels my unwavering gaze shift to him.

“the scenario agent fitz gave us involved an explosive device, so my strategy would be to diffuse the-”

“that’s what the bomb squad is for, your job is to prevent the threat before it can occur, not to play around snipping wires!”

“i worked explosive ordinance disposal in the army, i would know what i was doing-”

“you aren’t in the army anymore,” i snap, “you’re in the fbi now, and we don’t have our agents running around like headless chickens during an active terrorist threat because we have rules and when you don’t follow the, people get hurt!”

“but what if the bomb squad can’t get there? surely if he has experience-” the girl next to him tries to defend him but i hold up a hand to silence her.

i laugh sarcastically, “okay. let me tell you what, next time we have a terrorism threat involving explosives i’ll tell the bomb squad that we don’t need them because i have two rookie agents who want to do things their own way. anything you’d like me to tell your families after you blow yourselves up, likely taking dozens of civilians with you?”

when they don’t answer me i give a smug smirk, “that’s what i thought,” i look over to fitz and nod, “you’ll have to excuse me, they’ve rotted my brain enough for one day,” i say before sweeping out of the room.

“why is she so mean?” the female recruit asks when she thinks i’m out of earshot.

i can feel agent fitz hesitate and i don’t blame him. i wouldn’t know how to explain to a group of trainees that i’ve been a complete bitch today because i’m bitter and heartbroken.

“she isn’t mean,” he says slowly, “she’s hard on you because she wants you to learn; its life and death out in the field and you need to be ready for anything. there’s no time for niceness and if you’re expecting that, then you’re probably in the wrong job.”

i appreciate his lie.

he makes me sound noble.

the trainees nod at his words, their eyes wide as they feed into the seamless bullshit. the stoic and honorable agent makes a better story than the resentful shrew.

i don’t want to be this way. but spencer’s words echo in my head and the breath is knocked out of me every time i picture his face, i feel like i’m drowning. it’s a dull, crushing ache across my body, weighing my limbs down like there’s lead in my veins.

i want to be honey; golden and sweet but i’m all angles and sharp edges. i’ve broken like glass and it’s only a matter of time before i draw blood. it’s easy to push people away when they’re scared of getting cut.

“are you okay?”

i jump as agent fitz creeps up behind me.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you. but you haven’t been yourself and i just wanted to check-”

“are you scared of blood?” i ask.

“what?”

“blood. does it freak you out? make you feel faint?”

“no, i’m not scared of blood,” he says hesitantly.

i smile and for the first time in forever it doesn’t feel forced, “good.”

no honey, all glass.

it’s agent bishop’s retirement party.

i stand next to fitz, we’re in a circle with some of the other agents. i glug my wine as they converse, its dark and bitter and red.

“so, agent, you used to be a profiler down in quantico, didn’t you?” someone asks.

i swallow my wine, “yes, i was. that was a while ago now though.”

“do you miss it?”

i smile fondly, “every day.”

“isn’t profiling just pseudoscience?” someone snorts.

before i can even open my mouth to respond, fitz interjects, “actually the bau is one of the most successful departments in the bureau, they are responsible for saving hundreds of lives and allowing families to seek the justice they deserve.”

i nod appreciatively at him, “behavioural science isn’t empirical but more often than not we are right, like agent fitz said, we -they- are one of the most successful departments in the bureau,” i say, trying to fight the smirk creeping across my face.

“how does profiling work, can you really catch someone based on the method of killing they chose?” someone gushes.

“yes, we can tell a lot from victimology, signatures, cause of death – it’s usually symbolic in some way of their motivation for killing, or metaphorical for a message that they want to send, you’d be surprised how much we can learn from details like that.”

“interesting!”

“oh, that’s cool.”

“i didn’t know you guys did stuff like that, i might need to put in for a transfer!”

everyone laughs.

i give a half-hearted chuckle. all of my stories and experiences at the bau are tainted by him, i can’t even make light conversation at a party without my body turning numb. every memory chips away at my heart, and it’s growing more and more hollow with every beat.

“i think you need another drink,” fitz whispers in my ear.

i allow him to take my hand and lead me into the kitchen, he tops up my wine, filling it more than he probably should. but i appreciate him for it, i think he can tell i need it.

“are you okay? you clammed up right after you finished talking about your time at the bau.”

“i’ve told you before, don’t profile me,” i say, my voice sharper than i intend it to be.

“i’m not. i’ve just noticed than whenever you talk about your old job you get this look in your eyes, and you go all quiet and snap at everyone for the rest of the day.”

i drink a quarter of my wine in one gulp.

“this is still about him isn’t it?”

i shrug, “i thought i’d be over him by now but…” my eyes start to prickle and i have to console myself with another mouthful of wine.

“but?” he prompts.

“you know how jj and i call each other every week.”

“yeah.”

“well this week she told me that the rest of the team are starting to suspect spencer is…seeing someone. i don’t know the whole story, jj didn’t either. but apparently he’s been acting weird and making all these phone calls and i-”

i have to stop. i bite the inside of my cheek. he got over jj and i didn’t even know. i wasn’t even there, maybe if i hadn’t left…it hurt too much to consider the possibilities. and now there’s another woman that i don’t know anything about, at least when he was in love with jj i knew what aspects of myself to compare to her. now i’m jealous of a woman i’ve never even met.

“do you want to talk about it?” he offers kindly.

i shake my head.

“…can i ask you something else?”

“shoot.”

he looks over his shoulder and i can see his jugular vein pulse in his neck, he’s nervous.

“earlier, when you were talking about how killers leave symbolic or metaphorical clues that helps you figure out their motivation….”

i motion for him to continue.

“is that true for normal people too?”

“what do you mean?”

he runs a hand through his hair, “say you have a friend, and they as you a weird question, but it’s so out of the blue you it can’t be literal, that there has to be a deeper meaning behind it. if their question is symbolic for something else, could that indicate what their intentions are?”

he avoids eye contact with me.

“what’s this about?”

“n-nothing, nevermind. it was a stupid question anyways…” he mumbles, grabbing his beer and shuffling past me.

“fitz, come back!” i call after him, “fitz!”

he’s already gone. and i don’t have the energy to go after him. i huff and lean back against the counter, swirling around the wine in my glass before i raise it to my lips.

my hand slips, and the wine glass tumbles to the ground before shattering against the white kitchen tiles.

“fuck!”

i rake around a couple of drawers, searching for a dish towel to mop up the mess. eventually i find one and bend down to clean up the wine; the red is stark, splattered against the shiny white background.

it looks like...

“are you scared of blood?”

the words of my own cryptic question echo in my head and something clicks.

fitz.

i use a towel to scoop up the shards of glass and absorb the wine, i toss it in the sink and dash out of the kitchen in search of fitz. i spot the back of his head through a window and follow him out to the balcony, its lit by twinkly fairy lights.

“why are you out here? it’s cold,” i say, my teeth chattering slightly as i fold my arms across my chest.

i linger by the door, hoping to cling onto some of the warmth radiating outwards. but when fitz doesn’t answer, or even look up i huff and close the door behind me, shuffling over to him.

“were you asking me that stuff about metaphors and symbolism because of what i said to you about blood?”

he looks up at me but still doesn’t speak.

“fitz that was months ago, and i didn’t even mean anything by it so i don’t know why you’re reading so far into it,” i shiver, “can you just tell me what’s going on with you so we can go back inside?”

“what’s wrong with me,” he snorts.

“yes, because you’re acting really weird-”

“i’m not the one who is acting weird, ever since you came back from your friend’s wedding you’ve been like a totally different person, and then you ask me if i’m scared of blood out of fucking nowhere. what am i supposed to make of that?”

i’m taken aback from his sudden outburst, fitz is usually calm and good natured, “why are you yelling?” i snap.

“because i don’t know what else to do, i’ve tried to be a supportive friend but you’re acting totally out of character, the new recruits call you medusa because you’re so harsh on them. if this has something to do with spen-”

“i said i don’t want to talk about him!”

“well i’m not giving you the choice anymore, i’m sorry if you’re heartbroken over him, but you’re killing yourself trying to love him. do you think i don’t notice how exhausted you are? you’re working at least 30 extra hours a week and i can only assume that’s some kind of coping mechanism, and now i’m worried you’re hurting yourself-”

i squint at him, “you think that’s what i meant when i asked you about the blood?”

he nods, “well, yeah. i didn’t think you were killing people but you’re obviously angry and sad and i figured you might have needed an outlet for that-”

“yeah, i do, it’s called kickboxing fitz! i beat the shit out of a punchbag three times a week, the blood thing was…” i groan and sit down on the bench, “you’re right, i did change after jj’s wedding because i was scared of feeling hurt like that again so i thought if i toughened up and stopped being so nice and sweet then people wouldn’t be able to hurt me anymore, but…”

“but?”

“but then i realised that by being so sharp and harsh all the time then people wouldn’t want to be around me and i would be hurt all over again, and i just thought that if i made sure you would always stand by me then i’d be okay.”

he looks up, his eyebrows slightly less furrowed than before, “so, the blood thing was a metaphor for me always being on your side? cos’ if it is you don’t even have to worry about that, of course i’ll-”

i throw my arms around him and he squeezes me tightly in return, burying my face in his chest i blink back tears because the reassurance from my new best friend lifts a weight from my shoulders. but it’s a bittersweet feeling because i know he accepts it, but he doesn’t understand it; with spencer i never would’ve had to explain my enigmatic words.

with spencer i never even would’ve had to say them because he would just know. fitz is great and we make such an efficient team because we move in tandem like magnets; i move, he moves, but we’re always one behind the other. with spencer we were in sync like planets circling the sun, pulled together by an intangible force strong enough to construct a universe. at least that’s how it felt.

with spencer, we were in sync until we weren’t.

no honey, all glass.

i know that spencer and i are out of sync because when he comes to the city to deliver a guest lecture at nyu, he doesn’t even tell me.

fitz does.

he brings it up to me hesitantly after a meeting one day. since agent bishop retired, he is the new head of the counter terrorism division, and i’ve been promoted to his old job. we have tactical meetings every week with the heads of the three field offices in the state of new york to discuss any potential threat.

this week’s meeting was particularly taxing so when everyone leaves the conference room i just want to go for my lunch break, but fitz stops me to ask if i was aware spencer was in the city.

“no,” i say through gritted teeth, “i wasn’t, how do you know?”

he busies himself with some files, “i’ve been monitoring the movements of all agents coing in and out of the city-”

“why? do you think somethings wrong?”

he hesitates and loosens his tie, “i don’t know yet…i’m working on it, but i noticed that dr reid had a scheduled visit.”

“oh,” i say and try to force myself to wait an acceptable amount of time before questioning, “what’s he here for?”

my voice comes out dry and croaky despite my best efforts to appear unbothered, fitz ignores it and carries on as though nothing had happened.

“he’s giving a guest lecture to a criminology class at nyu, something about profiling…i don’t know,” he looks at his watch, “if you left now you could make it in time, professor van der woodson is a friend of mine, show her your creds and she’d let you sit in.”

i’m pulling on my coat before fitz has finished speaking, “wait…we have that meeting with that financial analyst today, he said he’d found a suspicious pattern of payments that could indicate a-”

fitz waves me off, “i got it, you go.”

i smile at him appreciatively before grabbing my bag and dashing out the door. it’s pouring with rain and it takes me forever to hail a cab, i sit in the back seat wringing out my hair with my scarf as we wait behind an immovable wall of traffic.

the cab crawls along the grid locked streets as i check my watch every two seconds, time is moving at half speed. by the time the driver pulls up outside  by by the time the driver pulls ups at nyu i’m sure spencer’s lecture will already be over.  i huff and trudge inside the building anyway, i’m chilled to the bone as i a buy myself a coffee from the cafe and find an empty seat to perch on.

i drum my fingers against the table as i sip the scorching hot coffee, i don’t really know what i’m expecting to happen. i haven’t seen or spoken to spencer since jj’s wedding, and at whisper of him being in the city i’ve spent the best part of an hour in the back of a taxi to see him. now that i’m here, i’m not sure that i want to see him.

classes are beginning to finish and the entrance hall floods with students, the volume level increases tenfold and i don’t want to be here anymore. i grab my coffee in my hand and make my way back to the front entrance when i hear a familiar voice call my name. i turn my head and i see him, he raises an eyebrow at me and begins fighting his way through the sea of students.

i freeze.

he’s getting closer with every second.

i don’t want to be here.

i don’t want to do this.

i don’t want to see him.

i turn on my heel and i powerwalk, the front door his jammed with students and if i take that route i’ll get suck and he’ll catch up to me. i spy a doorway to my left and dart towards it, breathing in a sigh of relief when i push through it and find an abandoned corridor.  

“wait!”

spencer is still in pursuit. i groan but pause in my tracks as i turn around to face him.

“are you running away from me?”

i fold my arms over my chest, “no.”

“really? because that’s what it looked like.”

“i’ve told you before to wear your glasses, if you don’t then-”

“i’m wearing contacts,” he says softly as he takes a step towards me, “i can see perfectly clearly and you’re running away.”

he reaches out an arm to touch my shoulder but i flinch away, he look of hurt that spreads across his face would be enough to break my heart if he hadn’t already shattered it.

he swallows and pulls on the cuffs of his blazer, i can tell that i’ve upset him but i don’t have the words to console him. this had been a horrible mistake. i’d dreamt of seeing him again every night since the wedding, i ran over and over again in my head what i would say and do. i never imagined that i’d be soaked to the skin and standing in front of him in a corridor lit by flickering, fluorescent lights.

“okay, so i ran away, so what?”

spencer shakes his head, “do i really make you that uncomfortable? your body language is closed off, you keep looking at the door and tapping your foot…you really don’t want to see me…so why are you here?”

i have to look away from him, “i made a mistake coming here, i don’t want to see you.”

“is this about what happened at jj’s wed-”

i hold up a hand to cut him off, “please don’t,” i screw my eyes shut, “i’ve had to relive that moment enough in my nightmares, i don’t want to do it again for real.”

“i’m sorry, i never wanted go hurt you. i just don’t fee-”

“you don’t feel that way, i get it spencer. its fine,” i look at my watch, “there’s a meeting that i really should be at…i’m sorry spencer this was a mistake, please can we just forget about this-”

“do you still love me?” he asks quietly.

i laugh.

“what’s so funny?”

“well, it isn’t funny i suppose,” i say bitterly, “it just makes me laugh that you think i could ever stop.”

“so…that’s a yes?”

“of course it’s a yes!” i look at my feet as i speak because i don’t want to see whatever pitiful look he’s giving me, “you’re my first love spencer reid, i’m always going to love you.”

i take a shaky breath and look up to the ceiling, trying to hold back my tears.

he stares at me sadly, and i know i’ve really fucked things up between us when even dr spencer reid can’t think of something to say. there’s a stagnant awkwardness and i want nothing more than to be hiding under my duvet, but this might be my only chance to get everything off my chest.

“i will always love you spencer, but i’m not in love with you anymore.”

“there’s a difference?” he says with a hint of ice in his voice that makes me flinch.

“of course there is, i love you but it’s not the same suffocating and overwhelming love i felt for you years ago. i love you but i don’t want to burst into tears whenever i see you glance at jj. i love you but i’m free from hating myself and wondering why i could never be good enough for you,” i don’t even try to hide the tears now, “spencer i used to love you so much that i couldn’t breathe, but now i can breathe on my own.”

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, “i didn’t know…i didn’t know i made you feel that way, if i had then i’d have-”

“you wouldn’t have done anything spencer because you didn’t feel the same, and that’s okay. you would’ve just avoided me and given me the same pitiful look you’re giving me right now which i can’t fucking stand.”

i sniffle and run a hand through my hair, “i wanted to be there for you spencer, i thought you deserved someone that loves you like you love jj, and you still do. but i can’t be that person anymore, i love you spencer but you aren’t healthy for me.”

“i never asked you to do that for me.”

“not in so many words, but when you would show up at my apartment crying over jj or emily or tobias hankel or your mother…it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you needed someone, and i loved you so much i was willing to put your needs above my own.”

he looks at his feet.

“i don’t blame you for that spencer, i didn’t value myself very much back then and i thought that loving you was the most important job in the world,” i tug at the sleeves of my sweater, “but now i know that loving myself is the only thing that matters.”

he doesn’t say anything, he just shuffles towards and me envelops my body in a gentle embrace. i’m crying into his chest and judging by his sniffles and shaky breaths, he’s crying too. he holds me tentatively like he he’s scared i’ll shatter in his arms if he squeezes too tight.

i realise he still sees me as fragile and brittle.

no honey, all glass.

i’m finally beginning to feel like my life is coming together.

today felt like a good day.

i woke up before my alarm, had time to make myself a decent breakfast, and didn’t have to sprint to catch the subway. i got to work early and the coffee machine i had ordered had arrived, i made myself a cup of steaming coffee as i relaxed behind my desk and checked my emails. i had a light day ahead of me and thankfully no meetings.

today felt like a good day until fitz burst into my office as half past eight and slammed the door behind him.

i leapt to my feet, immediately expecting the worst, “what’s going on? is there a bomb? hijacking? what is it?”

he waves me off, “no, nothing like that,” his eyes dart between me and windows that look out over the rest of the office, he pulls down the blinds and shuffles over to my desk, “do you remember a few months ago i said that i had been monitoring the movements of agents in and out of the city?”

“how could i forget?” i say bitterly as i am reminded of the painful encounter i had with spencer, “what does that have to do with anything?”

he swallows and sits down in the chair across from my desk, “i noticed that a few of our confidential code names for active and inactive investigations were cropping up in a few of the internet servers that we monitor, so-”

“so, you were tracking the movement of agents because you suspect a mole,” i finish for him.

he nods, “at first they were names of investigations that were well known within the bureau or easy to access with a low security clearance, so it could’ve been anyone, but i’ve been supplying different code names for made up investigations to different divisions across the bureau….”

“and you’ve seen those names continuing to appear in the servers,” i run my hand through my hair, “fuck, this is bad. does internal affairs know?”

he rests his head in his hands, “it’s worse than bad, because i kept a record of which names i gave to which departments because they were all unique, and the names that came up in the servers were only given to our division.”

my heart skips a beat. he was right, this was worse than just bad. this could be catastrophic, other departments in the bureau could gain access to some of our more low-level investigations. but only members of the counter terrorist division had access to the most potent and prolific threats, if we had a mole in our department then we could be looking at disaster of epic proportions.

i collapse into my own chair, “d-do you have any idea who it is?”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve been nagging the director about it for months but i never got a proper response until this morning, he’s sending a team to conduct an internal investigation…” he looks up at me, his eyes filled with worry and pity.

i realise what he is too afraid to say.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“i’m sorry, i thought they would just send someone from internal affairs, but the director feels that for someone to infiltrate our department then they must be highly trained and-”

“its fine, i get it, catching the mole is the most important thing right now,” i drum my nails against my desk, “that doesn’t mean i’m overjoyed at the thought of my old team crawling about the place and questioning our every decision.”

fitz reaches across my desk and squeezes my hand, “it’ll be okay, they’ll clear you right away and then you can get on with work, you don’t have to spend anymore time with them than necessary.”

“you mean anymore time with him than necessary,” i gulp my coffee and i don’t even flinch when it burns my throat, “when are they arriving?”

“an hour or so, they’re already on their way here and it’s a short flight,” he sighs, “it will just depend on how much traffic they hit on their way over, but we’re-”

“close to the airport, i know,” i bite my lip, “what do we tell everyone, they’re gonna start arriving soon,” i say, pulling up my sleeve to look at my watch.

its nearer nine now, and the office will start filling up soon with agents ready to start their day. there’s over a hundred agents in the counter terrorism division alone, and one of the is a traitor.

“director says we have to continue as normal until the bau team get here and they’ll decide the best course of action to take-”

i grip the edge of my desk, “so we just let them waltz in here and take over? those are our people down there, they don’t know them-”

“hey, its gonna be okay. you trust these guys, don’t you?”

i nod.

“so they’re going to find out who the mole is, and they’re not going to arrest anyone who isn’t guilty, they’re good at what they do.”

i let out a deep breath, “i know, i know. its just…i’ve been apart of these interrogations before, they ask you about everything and anything and analyze your every movement and micro expression, they’re going to question every decision we have ever made, professionally and personally. this is going to be an exhausting day,” i groan.

today felt like such a good day when i woke up, and now i was facing a waking nightmare.

fitz had gone back to his own office, like he said we needed to act like it was business as usual until the bau arrived. i had rolled my blinds back up and kept an anxious eye on the double glass doors that served as a main entrance to the bullpen.

i’d had an hour to try and prepare myself, to slow my heart rate and pull myself together enough to deal with my team of ex coworkers flying in to pick apart my department.

despite the hour i had to prepare myself, my legs turn to jelly when i see the elevator doors glide open and agent hotchner step out. fitz taps on my window as he passes my office on his way to greet them and i begrudgingly follow him out.

“agent hotchner,” he says, reaching out his hand, “thank you very much for coming on such short notice.”

hotch is stony faced as ever and gives him a brisk nod, “of course, have you told any of your agents about the situation?”

“just me,” i say, “no one else knows, but your presence here won’t go unnoticed for long,” i motion back through the double glass doors where some of the agents are already beginning to strain their necks to see who fitz and i are talking to.

“we brought our technical analyst, penelope garcia along, we might need access to computers and phones. do you have somewhere she can set up?”

fitz nods, “the conference room is just next to my office, you’ll have plenty of space and privacy in there for you all, i’ll show you the uo now if you’d like to follow me,” he says, motioning towards the door.

hotch nods, he and the rest of the team follow fitz through the bullpen and into the conference room. they mumble their hellos to me as they pass me but i know they can tell from my tightly folded arms and clenched jaw that i don’t want them here.

i tag along after them, behind a woman with dark hair that i don’t recognize, after i introduce myself she identifies herself as a dr alex blake.

“so you used to work with the bau?” she asks as we make our way up to the conference room, “hotch said you were a good agent, it’s nice to get the chance to meet you.”

i nod, “yeah, i transferred here a few years ago, it’s nice…to see everyone again,” i force a smile as i hold the door open for her.

“oh, thank you.”

i glance out the bullpen and see dozens of confused faces staring back at me. i close the door. the team have already settled themselves around the table, hotch, rossi, morgan, garcia, jj, blake and finally spencer. i avoid eye contact with him.

“so what are you going to tell people?” fitz asks, “surely if you announce that you think there’s a mole then whoever it is will just run?”

morgan nods gravely, “that is a concern, can you account that all of your agents arrived this morning?”

“lopez and mccall are out on assignment,” i say, “everyone else is here, either at their desks or somewhere on the floor.”

“any concerns about lopez and mccall?” hotch asks, “reprimands, hr complaints-”

“i know what to look for,” i say icily, “and no. they’re both stand up agents, they’ve saved both of our lives countless times,” i motion between fitz and i.

he nods, “she’s right. i’ve suspected a mole for months, so i’ve only been putting the agents i’d trust with my life out on assignment.”

hotch nods and makes some notes on the papers he is holding, “okay that’s good enough for me, like you said it is a concern that revealing our true purpose here could cause our mole to panic and we don’t want him to hurt himself or any of your agents.”

right, because a shoot out would just be the cherry on top of my day.

“our plan is to say that we have evidence to suggest the mole is in a different department, but the interviews we are carrying out here are just formality, we’ll ask inconspicuous questions and rely on behavioural cues,” morgan explains.

i raise an eyebrow, “and you really think that’ll work?”

“it has to,” jj whispers.

“okay,” i say, “i assume you’re going to want to interrogate fitz and i as well?”

“interview, not interrogate,” rossi says, “i will talk with agent fitz and dr blake will interview you…we felt that would be best since you never met during your time with us, that way there will be no bias or-”

“okay, i get the point. my office is next door, dr blake is welcome in there whenever she is ready to conduct our interview.”

before anyone can object i’ve already swept out of the room, into my office and slammed my door behind me. i’m sure they can hear it bang in the conference room. i know they’re just trying to do their job, and i feel pretty sure that they don’t suspect me. but i’m not in the mood to have my life picked apart by a profiler, especially one i don’t know.

it’s a few hours later when dr blake knocks on my door, when she comes in i motion for her to take a seat across from me. i offer her a cup of coffee but she politely refuses.

“no thank you, i don’t think this will take very long and i have quite a few interviews left after you….”

“of course,” i say, “i’m ready whenever you are.”

blake nods and presses the audio record button on her phone, “i already have the basics, your name, age et cetera confirmed by agent hotchner and fitz, so i just have a couple of quick questions. when did you transfer to the counter terrorism division?”

“three years ago.”

“and how long have you been in your role as assistant unit chief to agent fitz?”

“about a year and a half, he took over as unit chief when agent bishop retired and i was promoted to his previous role.”

blake nods, “okay, excellent. why did you choose to transfer from the bau to the counter terrorism division?”

i don’t think there are enough hours in the day to explain that properly, is what i want to say to dr blake. i left because of a bitter concoction of unrequited love and self-hatred, is what i want to say to dr blake. but instead i force a smile.

“i had been with the bau for a very long time and i felt it was time for a change of pace, i-”

the door swings open, cutting me off mid-sentence. i’m ready snap at whichever one of my agents is stupid enough to interrupt, but when i look up all i see are the cold and hard eyes of spencer reid staring back at me.

“reid, is there a problem?” blake asks.

“no, i was just hoping to sit in on this interview,” he says, never breaking eye contact with me.

“oh, spencer i don’t think that’s appropriate, you two were friends-”

“it’s fine he can stay. pull up a chair, reid.”

“i’ll stand.”

“fine.”

i’m grateful when dr blake doesn’t comment on the obvious tension between us. spencer sulks over to my desk, he stands slightly behind blake and leans against the wall. his arms are folded tight across his body, his jaw is clenches, his brows are furrowed; it’s like looking at myself in the mirror.

spencer reid doesn’t want to be here either.

“right,” blake says slowly, “you were just telling me why you transferred to the counter terrorism division, please continue.”

i tear my gaze away from spencer, “yes, of course. like i was saying i felt i had been with the bau so long and i just wanted a change of scenery, when agent fitz offered me the job i thought it would be a perfect opportunity to go somewhere i could really thrive and make a difference.”

spencer makes a face and i ignore him.

blake smiles and nods, “well it sounds like you’ve done just that, agent fitz speaks very highly of you.”

“what’s your relationship with agent fitz?” spencer interjects.

“dr reid, i think it would be best if i ask the-”

“he’s my boss, and he’s my friend. probably my closest friend here.”

“hmm.”

“what?”

spencer shrugs, “some of the other agents i’ve interviewed reported that you two have a very close relationship, and he offered you this job before he was unit chief. hiring agents wasn’t part of his job description.”

“this supposed to be an interview, none of those were questions.”

“i guess i’m just wondering why he offered you this job in the first place, and why he chose to promote you to assistant unit chief when there are dozens of other agents in this office who have been here longer than you.”

“maybe you should be asking agent fitz those questions, not me.”

“oh i intent to.”

“do you really think i’m the mole?” i spit.

“i don’t know, but jj says you’ve been dodging her calls, not answering her texts…and i know from experience how much you hate that. not to mention you just lied straight to dr blake’s face, so i’d say you’re not looking as innocent as hotch and fitz think you are.”

“what is he talking about?”

the anger is burning through my bloodstream. the bitter and cold spencer reid standing in front of me is not the man i left in virgina all those years ago. he’s not even the same man i met at nyu even a few months ago, something about him is different.

“i think he’s referring to when i told you that i transferred because i wanted a change of scene, spencer has always believed there is a bigger conspiracy behind why i left.”

he snorts.

“something funny?”

“well it’s only a conspiracy if it’s not true.”

“that is the truth,” i say though gritted teeth, my nails dig into the palms of my hands as i clench my fists.

“part of it maybe, why don’t you tell dr blake why you really left?”

“spencer, i think that’s enough. i knew this wouldn’t be appropriate-”

“what happened to you spencer? you’re acting like a totally different person, refusing to sit down, snapping at me, speaking to me like i’m an unsub – you’ve changed.”

“maybe i’m taking after you,” he shrugs, “jj says that you’re different too now, she says you’re irritable and-”

i laugh, “she said that? do you two have little catch-ups where you can discuss how rude and bitchy i am now?”

“i’m sure they don’t-” dr blake begins.

“no, we do. jj doesn’t like it when you don’t call her back, she was upset-”

“right, because everything comes back to jj with you doesn’t it.”

he pauses and i see a hint of emotion flash through his eyes, i’ve touched a nerve there.

“not anymore,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“right, you’re not in love with her anymore, she mentioned you had a new girlfriend.”

blake’s eyes flicker between reid and i, “we really should get back on track-”

“yeah, not anymore with that either.”

i roll my eyes, “spencer, i don’t care about your relationship status anymore. i know you remember what i said to you at nyu, so i know that you know i don’t feel that way about you anymore,” i don’t even care the blake is in the room with us anymore, “i’m not in love with you, so if you’re trying to make me jealous with your little girlfriend in the hopes that i’ll get upset and reveal something then you’re barking up the wrong tree, i’m not the mole. i don’t have anything to hide.”

“i’m not trying to make you jealous,” he croaks, “even if i wanted to i couldn’t, because she’s dead.”

oh. so that’s why he was acting so out of character.

“what happened?”

“stalker, shot herself and maeve right in front of me.”

maeve. what a pretty name, the mystery woman i’d been so desperate to know about when jj first mentioned her on the phone. that was so long ago now, i hadn’t felt jealous of her in a long time. i was grateful for that, i didn’t want to be jealous of a dead woman.

i hadn’t lied to spencer when i said i wasn’t in love with him anymore. i would always have a soft spot for him in my heart, but i wasn’t in love with him. i’d been slowly piecing myself back together for the past year and a half, as my feelings for spencer faded i felt better, and stronger.

i felt more confident than i had in a long time, because i wasn’t constantly competing for his attention or comparing myself to the women he preferred. i once felt like spencer and i were tied together like planets orbiting the sun, but that was never a true representation of our relationship because he was my sun, the light and center of my life.

and to him i was just one of many trapped in his orbit. i let my love for him burn and keep me warm for years, but you can have too much of a good thing i was blinded by that love. eventually, you have to learn to keep yourself warm. eventually the eclipse will pass.

“when?”

“a couple of months ago.”

i sigh and lean back in my chair, “why are you telling me this spencer?”

spencer isn’t look at me anymore and for once i don’t mind.

“alex, could you give us a minute?” he asks, she hesitates for a moment, “please.”

eventually she nods, gets up and leaves. spencer takes her seat.

i pick at my nails, “so now you want to sit down, huh?”

“don’t be like that.”

“oh i’m sorry, have i been rude to you?” i scoff, “are you not the one who has been unprofessional and-”

“i shouldn’t need to be professional with my friends!”

“are we even friends anymore, spencer?”

he shrugs and looks down at his lap. i see the dark circles rimming his eyes, the hollowness in his face, the tangles in his hair. he looks rough. his chapped lips, his pale skin, his bruised knuckles, he looks ill.

“why did you barge into my interview? blake wasn’t going to ask me anything you didn’t already know the answer to.”

“i wanted to see if you’d about your transfer, and you did-”

“spencer, i don’t know why you have this fixation on why i left, but if you want me to say it so badly then fine. i left because of you, is that what you wanted to hear? are you happy now?”

i wait for the tears to well up in my eyes but they don’t come. i can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

“do you think i would be happy about you leaving because of me?” his voice cracks, “i learned recently what rejection can do to a person, i guess i wanted to see if-”

“if what? your rejection drove me to become a terrorist?” i snort, “jesus fucking christ spencer, i’d have hoped you had more faith in me than that.”

my heart begins to soften when i see the tears in his eyes. that fucking soft spot.

“with maeve…” tears begin to stream down his face and it’s several minutes before he can bring himself to speak, “maeve rejected a phd student’s thesis, and it drove her crazy. she stalked, kidnapped and eventually killed them both, and that was just a thesis rejection.”

he holds his head and his hands and cries, i stand up from my chair and shuffle round the desk, bending down i wrap my arms around him.

“i’m not a profiler anymore, but you’re upset and i think you’re projecting your feelings about maeve’s death onto me.”

he shakes his head, “she was the love of my life, i wanted to spend forever with her and she’s gone. i’m not upset, i’m devastated,” i wipe the tears streaming down his skeletal cheeks, “and i am projecting my feelings, but not about this.”

“spencer, i-”

“no, let me finish, please,” he whimpers, “i’ve been thinking about you, even before maeve died, since that day at nyu and i don’t think i’ve been a good friend to you, i should’ve noticed your feelings sooner. and i shouldn’t have made you listen to my feelings about jj all those years, it wasn’t fair-”

“you don’t need to apologise, you didn’t know-”

“but i should’ve! you were right in front of my nose and i never noticed,” he looks up at me with his tear-filled eyes, “i think i could’ve learned to love you, if i’d had the chance.”

my blood runs cold and i drop my arms from their embrace around him, slowly backing away, “learned to love me?” i repeat, “i don’t want you to have to have force yourself to love me, who would want that?”

“wait, no i’m sorry. i just meant that-”

“i’m finally over you spencer,” i cry, “i spent years putting back together what you broke, and now you come to my job and tell me that you could’ve learned to love me? no. that’s not fair spencer, i deserve someone who loves me without having to try, i don’t need your pity or your fake love.”

i turn on my heel and storm towards the door, spencer leaps to his feet and follows me, crying out his apologies the whole way. i ignore him, because what else does he expect me to say?

i’ve worked so hard to put my life back together, and now he wants to shatter me like glass over again? he wants to sit in front of me, in my fucking office, and tell me that if he’d profiled me a little bit harder then we could be together right now?

i think i could’ve learned to love you.  

somehow the words hurt more than his rejection.

i swing open my door, hotch is standing in the doorway.

“we got the mole.”

“who was it?” spencer asks, evidently having pulled himself together long enough respond to hotch.

“an agent jermey cole,” hotch says hesitantly, his eyes flickering between us, “were you two close?”

“not anymore,” i say, mocking spencer’s earlier words as i shoot a glare back at him, “we only dated for a few months, i broke up with him when he started acting strange...”

“strange how?” hotch questions.

“weird phone calls in the middle of the night, hiding his texts from me, coming home late…god i was so stupid. i thought he was cheating on me.”

 hotch places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “it’s not your fault, that was a far more reasonable assumption than guessing he was part of a terrorist cell. but we caught him before he could do any real damage, i have to go and call the director. i was just coming to tell reid we’re heading back to the jet now.”

hotch nods at spencer and walks away, pulling his phone from his pocket as he enters fitz’s office.

“i didn’t know you were dating anyone,” spencer whispered.

“yeah,” i spit, “guess you could say i was learning to love him.”

i leave spencer standing in the doorway to my office.

i think i could’ve learned to love you.

his words sting, and they definitely make me angry. but there’s a satisfaction in knowing that they don’t make me fall apart. i love spencer, but i’m not in love with him, and this erases any doubts i had about that fact. had he said those words to me a year ago, i’d have been crumbling to pieces in his arms.

but now i feel like honey and glass.

it’s been two years since i saw spencer.

it’s been two years since i saw anyone on the team, jj sends me pictures of the boys sometimes, but even we aren’t the same as we used to be. and i think i’m okay with that.

fitz and i make a good team, we run the counter terrorism division like well oiled machine and people don’t die. he’s my best friend now, and i don’t need anyone else.

not in my personal life at least. but professionally, we’re at a dead end on this case and if we don’t act now then people will die. fitz and i only work so well as a team because we know when to make the hard calls.

for me, the hardest call was when i had to pick up my phone and ask agent hotchner for his help tracking down a serial bomber who was targeting busy tourist spots around the city.

it’s been two, peaceful years since i saw anyone from the bau, and now they’re standing next to me, clad in bullet proof vests and surrounded by s.w.a.t agents as we approach grand central station, one of the most frequented areas in the city.

this was his endgame.

the n.y.p.d are working on evacuating the station, and all incoming trains have been rerouted. the bomb squad are getting anxious, they don’t like waiting around like this, but there isn’t much they can do when the unsub has the bomb strapped to his chest.

fitz is trying to talk him down, but i can see the unsub getting angrier and angrier with every second, he’s going to blow us all up.

“we need to do something,” i hiss to hotch.

we’re standing at the very edge of the station by the entrances, ready to sprint out if he decides to detonate. only i can’t leave fitz, i didn’t want to let him to go and talk to the bomber and i tried to fight my way towards them but hotch told me i could either stay with him and follow his orders or i could go back to headquarters. i begrudgingly chose the former.

“well we can’t shoot him, he has a manual and biomechanical trigger – if the heart rate monitor detects that his has heart stops beating the bomb will arm automatically, our only chance is if fitz can talk him down.”

i tap my foot, “he shouldn’t even be the one negotiating, he has a wife now and a kid on the way, if he dies that baby is gonna grow up without a dad,” I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms and draw blood, “if i die, the only person i’m going to hurt is myself, but i’ll be dead so it won’t matter.”

“i can’t let you go over there-” hotch begins.

i look over at fitz, standing several feet away from the bomber with his hands in the air. i imagine telling his wife that her husband has been blown to pieces, i imagine her going through labour alone, i imagine his kid growing up and asking why everyone has a daddy apart from them.

“no you can’t, but you also can’t stop me,” i say, shoving my gun back into its holster and taking my first few steps towards the unsub.

hotch is hissing something at me but i don’t hear him because everything happens so fast after that. something in the unsubs body language shifts, and before i know it i’m being blown backwards by a searing hot force.

every window in the building shatters, and i land in a pile of glass, the shards tearing at my skin as a try and push myself to my feet. my head is aching, and everything blurs in front of me, but i can tell from the acrid smell and orange glow that half the building is on fire. i pat myself down, searching for any pieces of shrapnel or glass embedded in my body, i don’t feel penetrating wounds but when i hold my hands up above my face my fingers are slick with blood.

my vision is so blurry, and i can’t hear a thing over the ringing in my ears. spencer’s face appears in front of my eyes, his lips are moving but i still can’t hear a word. the ringing is overwhelming and black spots are beginning to appear across my vision.

i want to go to sleep.

my eyes flutter shut.

i think someone is shaking me.

the ringing is too much.

when i begin to float back to consciousness, the ringing is gone and is replaced with a consistent beeping. my body is aching, and i groan as i try and sit myself up because my arms don’t want to cooperate with me. when i look down i see they’re wrapped up tightly in bandages.

“hey, don’t try and move yet,” a voice says, “you have a concussion, the doctor says you’ll be okay but groggy for a while.”

the voice shifts into view, its spencer. his face is twisted with worry and he’s biting at his nail, “how do you feel?”

“like i was hit by a train,” i cough, “what happened?”

his face drops, “you don’t remember?”

i try to shake my head but it hurts to try and move, “bits and pieces, did n.y.p.d get everyone out?”

he nods, “yeah, your team did a good job,” he shifts towards me and takes a seat on the bed next to me, “but there’s something else-”

“god, my head really hurts, can they give me any pain meds?”

“yeah, i’m sure they can, i’ll ask a nurse in a minute,” he says softly, “but i have some bad news…it’s agent fitz-”

“no. no, no, no,” the tears start to burn in my eyes and my vision is blurrier than it was immediately after the explosion, “don’t say it, please don’t say it,” i plead.

he takes my hand, “okay, i won’t.”

the tears are streaming down my face i can’t bring myself to wipe them away, my body aches as it’s racked with sobs. spencer doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes my hand and takes out a handkerchief to dry away my tears.

“d-does his wife know?” i finally manage to choke out.

“yeah, hotch spoke to her.”

gemma was a lovely woman, i don’t know how i can face her again when the guilt flooding my body tells me that this is my fault. fitz is dead, and it should’ve been me.

“this isn’t fair,” i croak.

“i know, it’s never fair. but he saved so many people-”

“no. i mean it’s not fucking fair because he never should’ve been in that position in the first place, if i’d just gotten there sooner then he never would’ve tried to negotiate, it should’ve been me.”

through my own tears i think i see spencer’s eyes turn red and glassy, he shakes his head and grips onto my hand so tightly it hurts, if i had the energy i’d tell him to loosen his grip but i can’t make myself speak.

“i know what its like to have someone you love die right in front of you,” he says, and from the pain in his voice i know he isn’t lying and i know he’s talking about maeve, “i know what its like to feel that guilt and wish it was you instead but-”

“do you think we’re cursed spencer?”

“what do you mean?”

i close my eyes, “bad things seem to happen to us more than anyone else i know, we’ve both been kidnapped, drugged, tortured, known the agony of unrequited love, had someone we love killed in front of our eyes…how am i supposed to have any faith in life when we’re just bombarded with trauma and pain every single day?”

spencer opens his mouth to speak but he falters, i can only recall one other occasion where i’ve seen spencer speechless. it’s not a sight that i ever want to see again, he looks so lost as he stares down at me and i know that he doesn’t know what to say.

morgan pops his head around the door, “glad to see you’re awake,” he says.

i smile weakly at him before tilting my head away, i don’t need anyone else seeing me cry.

“sorry kid, but hotch wants wheels up in thirty, we need to get a move on.”

“yeah, i’ll be two minutes.”

my heart sinks in my chest because i realise that spencer’s hand is still intertwined with mine and i know that my heart will break when he pulls his away. i shakily raise my hand to dry my eyes, spencer has to go now, and i need to dry my own eyes from now on.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i don’t want to leave you but-”

“it’s okay, spencer,” i say, shifting my head back so i can see his face again.

his honey and glass eyes are boring into mine, and in that moment, we are connected by our mutual pain, and maybe something deeper that i can’t quite discern.

“you could come back with me,” he says hopefully.

i shake my head, “you know i can’t spencer,” i squeeze his hand lightly, “you go, i’ll be okay.”

i can’t go with him because i think i know what his eyes are asking me and i can’t open myself up to something like that right now. i can’t disregard the last five years that i have spent re-building myself just for something that i may be reading too much into.

he lets go of my hand and an involuntary shiver runs through my body, i had grown so accustomed to our brief skin to skin contact and now that it’s gone i feel like i’m missing a part of myself.

“i’m so sorry, about everything-”

“it’s okay spencer, i’m starting to think that we aren’t meant to have a happily ever after.”

he doesn’t say anything else; he just presses a gentle kiss against my forehead before he skirts of the room.

i lie motionless in my hospital bed, the nurse comes in to administer some pain meds and i almost wished she hadn’t because at least the pounding in my head and stinging from my cuts meant i could feel something.

without spencer, the room is colder. i thought that having my own, personal sun was a bad thing because i thought that being strong and independent meant never relying on anyone for anything. i realise now that being strong means knowing when to when to depend on others.

i wish fitz were here, he would know exactly what to say.

i feel like rotten honey and shattered glass.

i’m not surprised by the look of shock that spreads across his face when he swings open the door to see me standing in the hallway. i open my mouth to speak but i realise i never figured out what to say. i had two cab journeys, a flight, a decade of loving him and i still don’t know what to say.

he must see something on my face because his own stony expression softens, and he reaches out a hand.

“what made you change your mind?”

it’s warm against my own, still freezing from the bitter, winter wind.

“i realised i was wrong, i thought if i ran straight back into your arms it would ruin all the years i spent sticking myself back together. before you were oxygen to me, and i couldn’t live without you. now i know that i can, i just don’t want to.”

he squeezes my hand, pulling me towards him. i’m in his apartment.

“you told me once that you still love me, but you aren’t in love with me. is that still true?”

i nod, “yes, but i don’t think that you’re in love with me either. yet,” i wink at him and he grins, “i don’t need to learn how to love you, i already know how to do that. i just need to be persuaded to fall in love with you again.”

he takes a step closer to me, “persuaded how?”

i snake my arms around his neck and his lips brush against mine, “like this.”

i press my lips against his and i don’t feel fireworks or butterflies or a gravitational pull, i just feel at home. i don’t need a happily ever after beacuse he is enough.

he tastes like coffee and i feel like honey and glass.

as usual i have finished this super late at night and havent proof read at all so pls ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes - also aware that the timeline in this probably doesn't align with canon cos i have no clue how far apart certain events happened so ive made some educated guesses. 

i never planned for honey and glass to have a part 2 but i wrote one due to all the requests i got so i’m sorry if the plot isnt the best because i didnt really know where to take it. i’m definitely not as happy with this as i was with part one but i still hope you enjoy it!

taglist:

@mggswhorificlover @doctorthreephds @minami97 @bisexualwomanofcolour @ashwarren32 @bangisbae @haylaansmi @heyy-itsharley03 @starjane312 @awesometheydontknowiamhere @radtwinkie @allexthakatt @spencereidshoe @mgglover @spideyr3id

@cloudyskylines @pastelvixenbeauty @hatemyselfbutitsokay @writingwithnotime @awkwxrdmarauders

ive tagged anyone who commented on part 1 or liked my posts about a part 2 so im sorry if you didnt want to be tagged, if ur name is scored through then i tried to tag you but it wouldnt let me x

[gubler-me-up]

Broken Telephone

Request: Spencer Request. You're new to the team, having transferred from the NYPD and are also studying for a Doctorate at the same time. Spencer falls in love with you straight away, but saddens when he hears you talking to JJ about a guy you do a load of fun activities with a guy and a little girl. He assumes you're taken and it breaks his heart. Eventually, he finds out you were talking about your cousin and his daughter & asks you out on a date, and you say yes.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! This was a really cute, fun request to write! Starting it was tough though because I didn’t know the exact tone I wanted for it. I hope it’s okay though! When I was reading through the beginning part before I edited it I was like “I have a whole degree in English and I can’t even write properly i hate it here” LOL the first paragraph was a MESS but I fixed it. I think the rest is fine! Enjoy, love!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None

Word count: 1.7k

-------------

Upgrading from NYPD to the BAU was probably your greatest career move to date. You hated how NYPD operated and dealt with crimes. It made you so frustrated. If you weren’t born and raised in New York you wouldn’t even be a part of NYPD. You felt as if New York would always be your home, but sometimes you had to branch out to find what’s best for you.

Moving to Washington, D.C. was a completely new start for you and you felt as if it were only right you changed a few things about yourself. First, you cut your hair shorter. Very cliche of a restart arc, but you thought you’d feel free with less weight weighing your head down. You also bought an actual house. After years of living in a small, cramped apartment you thought it was right to invest in something bigger and more welcoming.

The biggest thing you were proud of during the transition to the BAU was finishing your Ph.D. in Linguistics. You had wanted to complete it years ago, but found it difficult to focus on it while at NYPD. With the bureau they allowed you to work on your Ph.D. as long as you worked your agreed-upon hours every week. It felt amazing to finally have a support net to motivate you towards your dreams.

You weren’t the only one excited about your Ph.D. though. Your coworker, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t wait to see you during your time in to discuss your Ph.D. with you. As soon as you walked to your desk, he’d be the first one to greet you with a huge, lovable smile, rosy red cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes. You had never seen someone so animated over linguistics before. If you two weren’t talking about linguistics or random facts he would spurt out, the conversation was about you.

On one particular day though, the good doctor was running late to work. You were kind of disappointed you weren’t greeted with a daily dose of facts early in the morning. The second best thing happened when JJ walked towards your desk with two Starbucks coffees.

“Ugh, if I knew you a few years earlier, I would have married you before Will could ever dream to,” you said.

She laughed. “I don’t think Spence would allow that to happen without a fight. He’s been quite the busy bee around you.”

She handed you your drink as you pondered on what she said. Just maybe he had a slight crush on you. The way he expressed his interest was adorable for sure. You preferred his way of flirting over the typical sexualized pick-up lines many men in your life have used.

“Are you saying super-genius Dr. Spencer Reid has a crush on me? I won’t believe it until he runs some tests about your theory,” you said as you took a sip of your coffee.

“Maybe he’ll ask you out one of these days between statistics,” she said.

You smiled. “That would be nice. I just hope he doesn’t do it this weekend. Remember I told you how Adrian was visiting this weekend? He’s bringing the little one with him.”

“Oh, really? What’s their name?”

“Her name’s Rhea. She’s the cutest little thing ever.”

You pulled out your phone to look for a picture of them. You found a picture of the three of you from a few months ago before you left for D.C. You turned your phone to JJ and she instantly melted.

“Oh my gosh, she’s adorable,” she said.

You proudly smiled. “Right. She’s the cutest four-year-old I know. I think I was the happiest one in the room when I met her for the first time. Adrian was a puddle of tears and nerves from the reality of taking care of this little girl forever. He treats her like an absolute princess.”

“You both are lucky to have her in your lives. She looks like a ray of sunshine.”

“She is. We do so many fun things together. The last time we hung out we went to this trampoline park. This weekend we’re going to the food festival.”

“That does sound like a lot of fun. Maybe I’ll bring Will and the kids there.”

You were going to respond to JJ until you noticed Reid sitting at his desk which was diagonally across from yours. You hadn’t even noticed him come in at all let alone sit down to start his workday. He had already buried his nose deep into case files. JJ looked at Reid with as much confusion as you did. He was never quiet unless something was troubling him.

“No fact today for me, doctor?” You joked.

He looked up at you. He had no sparkle in his eye or a blush painted on his face. He looked disappointed. You were confused as to what made your chatty doctor become so mute.

“I just wanted to start these case files,” he said.

“You sure there isn’t anything wrong, Spence?” JJ asked.

“No, I’m fine. I just gotta finish these before Hotch comes in,” he said.

He then buried his face back into the file without uttering another word. You and JJ looked at each other. You were concerned there was something wrong, but JJ’s look said to leave it alone for now. You sighed and took another long sip of your coffee. You stared at him out of the corner of your eye. You hoped whatever he was going through he’d tell you eventually.

————

You packed your things up to leave 20 minutes ago, but stuck around your desk until you saw Reid also getting ready to leave. You wanted to inquire about his miserable attitude towards you. You noticed throughout the day he was normal with everyone else except you. When you tried to spark conversation, he would give you quick, to the point answers before he made a B-line back to his desk. He gave you no choice but to crack him.

As soon as you saw him put his books and files into his satchel. He swung the strap around his shoulder and made his way to the door. He didn’t even look at you the whole time he got ready to leave. This was getting ridiculous to you. You picked up your purse and ran towards him before he caught the elevator.

“Spencer,” you called out.

He turned to look at you. “What’s up?”

You looked at him confused. “What’s up with me? What’s up with you?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you haven’t talked to me or even looked at me longer than a second today.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You weren’t too busy to tell Morgan how many microscopic mites were living on his face today.”

“I thought it was valuable information he needed to know.”

“And you didn’t think it would be valuable to tell me?”

“In the moment, no.”

He went to go press the button for the elevator but you stopped his hand. You grabbed his hand tightly to make sure he didn’t escape your grip. He looked at you as if he was uncomfortable with you touching him. You knew awhile ago he had thing about not liking to shake hands, but you had stepped over that barrier with him a long time ago.

“I don’t think you should be doing this,” he quietly said.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why not?”

“I feel as if I’ve been intruding,” he said.

“Intruding on what?”

“Your family life.”

You let go of his hand as you stood there in shock. You didn’t understand what he meant when he said that. If he wanted to ask you out all he had to do was ask and you’d sort out your schedule. Adrian and Rhea would understand if you took a few hours to go on your first date in over two years.

“You think you’re intruding on my family life? How so?” You asked.

“If you really want to know I wanted to take you to the food festival this weekend because I know how much you love unique foods, but then I heard you and JJ talking about your partner and daughter coming this-“

“Hold up, wait,” you said before bursting into an uncontrollable laugh.

He looked at you funny. You watched as he stared in confusion as you laughed at his interpretation of your conversation with JJ. To be fair you had never mentioned Adrian and Rhea to him before, but you didn’t know he’d be eavesdropping in your conversation with JJ.

“You think Adrian’s my partner and Rhea’s my kid? Well, I’m proud to say that for once in Dr. Spencer Reid’s life he is completely, utterly wrong.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Adrian’s my cousin and Rhea’s his daughter. They’re coming to visit me from New York for the weekend. Adrian’s basically like a big brother to me.”

His face went from confused to embarrassed in a fraction of a second. His face turned to that noticeable red and an awkward smile spread across his face. You continued to laugh at his demeanour as you pressed the elevator button, so the two of you could actually get going.

“Oh. I’m so sorry for being weird to you, Y/N. I just felt terrible for thinking about asking you on a date while you were in a committed relationship,” he said.

“I get it, I do. I think you can make it up to me though,” you said.

The elevator dinged and the two of you stepped inside. He looked at you in amusement. You looked back at him with a big smile on your face and big, hopeful eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Would you like to go on a date?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “I’d love to. We can even go to the food festival, so you can meet Adrian and Rhea in person.”

“That would be nice. I heard you telling JJ how lovely they are.”

“I bet they seem even lovelier now that you know they’re not my partner and child.”

“You can say that.”

—–

MASTERLIST

[alltooreid]

All Too Well

Spencer must go to him and Y/N’s once shared apartment to clean out his things and leave her life forever. While there he can’t help but look back on his actions, the ones that made him lose the love of his life forever

A/N: Hi!! This is my first fanfic ever published on here and I’m excited to share it with you all! It’s inspired by one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs All Too Well, but although I utilized some of the lyrical genius and imagery from it, the story is not the same as the story in the song. This is a very angsty fic, and there is not a happy ending. Although there are some cute fluffy elements, including a Reid’s purple scarf origin story, I would in no way call this happy. Additionally, because of a reason you may later realize, the content warnings are very vague. If anything even slightly mentioned in them may affect you, I advise you to maybe stay clear. On a lighter note, if anyone wants to request anything, whether it’s another song inspired fic or a general plot line you would like to see please do so!! Also sorry this is kinda short, I’m still learning but I’m really proud of this one :))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Type: Very Angsty, Not a Happy Ending, (Y/N and Spencer do not end up together)

Word Count: 2.4k

Content Warnings(try to ignore if you would prefer to stay surprised): slight cursing, discussions of death and gore, discussion of car crash

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments :) let me know what you think!

“But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well”

Spencer was packing up his things, finally getting the chance to clear out and move from the apartment he and Y/N once shared.  Their relationship was rocky and unconventional but he loved her all the same. Even though he left her broken-hearted and destroyed his most cherished relationship. Even though Y/N’s parents now hated him because of what he did to her. Even though hope of repairing what they once had was long gone and there was nothing else he could do about it. Even though he had torn up the masterpiece they once had together. He still loved her so much.

But the magic was gone and so was she. 

Now Spencer was left with memories, and since the apartment they lived in was hers instead of his, filed entirely under hers and her parents name. In his excessive knowledge and wisdom, Spencer Reid struggled to understand how the kitchen where Y/N told him she loved him for the first time as he lit the candle on the collapsing confetti cake he had attempted to bake for her birthday was in no way legally tied to him. 

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Y/N! Happy birthday to you!” Spencer sang as he lit the single pink birthday candle he found after rummaging through his desk drawers for longer than he cared to admit. He knew it was in there somewhere, but at the same time there was a whole lot in there. 

As he looked at her face, eyes welling up with tears as she took in the sad, homemade excuse for a birthday party Spencer had thrown together after they got back from a case hours before, he couldn’t help but feel he should have done more. He wanted to take her to New York, where they would’ve enjoyed fine dining and one of those incredibly detailed floral frosting cakes he knew Y/N was infatuated with. 

However, the case in Oregon ran long. They had only returned to their apartment 2 hours ago, hours past their 7pm dinner reservations. Although Y/N tried to hide her disappointment, you don’t need to be a profiler to know that someone wants to celebrate their own birthday. So although they had agreed to go to bed and play everything by ear tomorrow, the young genius had, what he would still argue to be, his most brilliant idea when he saw Y/N asleep once he got out of the shower.

It was still her birthday.

And Spencer had just under 2 hours to throw you a party. 

So sure, Y/N deserved more than a cake that was definitely not cool enough to frost, but was frosted anyway due to time constraints. And she definitely deserved more than present hastily wrapped in his printed out articles and newspaper clippings. Spencer wished that he had time to go buy new candles, instead of lighting a green sparkly number 7 because it was all he could find.

But it was almost midnight, and that meant he only had 18 minutes before it wasn’t Y/N’s birthday anymore.

So instead of dwelling on it, he headed to their bedroom, shook her awake and watched her roll over to face him. He watched the smile overtake her face as she said the stupid party hat he was wearing, made out of a pom pom and a wedding invitation.

“Hey birthday girl,” he said softly, “you do realize you’re sleeping through your party right?”

She looked so happy that night, even as she saw the way too messy kitchen and her birthday cake that was melting by the second. She laughed as Spencer fumbled with the lighter. 

And as he finished singing her eyes started releasing tears. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wish we could’ve done more for the first birthday we get to spend together. “

“No, no, no” she said as she wiped her tears away, “It’s not that at all.”

She smiled and looked up at him “I just love you so goddamn much Spencer.”

Although at one point, all Spencer knew was logic and logically Y/N had never ever known him when she filed her paperwork, the genius still struggled to grasp the concept. That even before the ending of it all, you had no legal, definite connection to her at all. 

How was nothing about this place, his? 

  All that he knew was that he had today to pack all his shit and leave. All he knew is that Y/N’s father had made it very clear none of their family wanted to see him again. 

He wished he could talk to Y/N about it. However all of his calls went to voicemail immediately. 

Logically, Spencer knew why, he had completely fucked up. 

But still, he called every single day, as there was nothing his heart wished for more than to speak to Y/N again. To apologize, to beg for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

As the cold air from the open windows blew into the apartment, Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was leaving his home behind. Everything left of her was going to be here, and he wouldn’t get to experience any part of the life you and him had once shared together anymore.

But then he saw it. 

The royal purple scarf Y/N bought the day of their first date. 

“You like this color right?” she asked as they stopped by a booth at the street festival she had taken him to. Spencer was too distracted as he watched the other couples on dates, as they walked hand and hand down the streets. He sometimes wished he could forget things like the number of germs and bacteria that lived on her hands. He at least wished he could forget long enough to gather enough courage to hold Y/N’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Hmm?” he said, looking back at her, then the scarf she was now wearing. “Oh, yeah! I love that color, it um- looks great on you.”

She smiled, then turned to the weird old guy running the stand. “How much for the scarf?” she asked.

He looked at her, then looked at Spencer, “depends which one of you is paying.”

Before Spencer could say anything, let alone pull out his wallet, Y/N already had hers out. 

“Well, for a pretty lady like you, it’s 2 dollars,” the man said.

She handed him five and turned to Spencer. “You hear that? I’m so pretty I get 80% off! Wonder what you would’ve paid huh pretty boy? He would probably owe you money.” The man handed her her change and whispered something Spence couldn’t quite catch. 

“Gross,” Y/N said as they exited the booth, “he wrote his number on my change.”

Spencer chuckled, “Did you really just buy that scarf because I like the color of it?”

She smiled, “Don’t get so cocky now Einstein, I like purple too you know? And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you borrow it.”

At that moment Spencer felt just okay enough to wrap his arm around Y/N’s, and she felt just right enough to wrap the new scarf around them both. 

The one she left next to her front door, after making the last minute decision to leave it at home the night of their final outing.

No one would notice if he….. Right?

Sure maybe Y/N would but what would she do about it? Hunt him down just to get a scarf she paid less than five dollars for? Definitely not. 

He wrapped it around his neck and closed his eyes, even days later he could perfectly picture Y/N singing in his car, fascinated by the autumn leaves falling around her. He felt the wind in his hair, but instead of the cold, dreary air from the open apartment window, he swore he could remember the warm air from that October night. 

“Spencer I know you hate it but please, please, please. I’m so tired.”

“Sweetheart you’re not tired, you’re drunk. Of course I have to drive you home.”

“Oh, whatever.”

A phone call broke him away from his memories, it was Hotch. Spencer was angry, how effortlessly cruel of him to call him during such an emotional time. Hotch knew how much Spencer loved Y/N, the whole team did. 

So he didn’t pick up.

Instead he walked over to the coffee table they used to put their feet on when they binged watched Doctor Who together. Letting the ringtone play out in the background, Spencer picked up an old photo album Y/N’s parents must have brought out. Of course he remembered it, it was the same one they flipped through when he met Y/N’s parents for the first time. He didn’t realize she had brought it home with her.

His eyes welled up with tears as he flipped through the old school pictures, remembering how embarrassed Y/N was of her big glasses. He saw her old athlete pictures from when she used to play tee ball, and flipped through more pictures until he reached the end of your softball career, in college. 

He remembered how hard Y/N blushed when she showed him her childhood bedroom. Her twin sized bed was full of stuffed animals and her walls covered in boy band posters. 

“You know what Spencer? I don’t want to hear it. I loved and still love the BackStreet Boys and I am not ashamed of that.”

He laughed, “You know, before we started dating I always thought you were so cool and unattainable. I imagined that you had always been this chic, beautifully brilliant badass. It’s oddly comforting to know that you wore tortoiseshell glasses and had a fruitless infatuation with Nick Carter.”

She gasped, before tossing her tabby cat stuffed toy at him, “You’re about to get it!”

Once again he was called out of the memory by his phone. 

And once again he let it ring.

Spencer went into their shared bedroom, most of his things were already put into boxes for him. Honestly he was surprised that they hadn’t been set on fire or thrown away after what he did. 

Soon it was time for him to take his things down to his car.

Except it wasn’t even his car. It was Morgan’s.

“Spencer, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life. I am infatuated with you, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You sure that isn’t the alcohol talking Y/N”

“Look at me Spencer, no, no really look at me.”

He couldn’t imagine ever using his old car again after what had happened in it.

“You are my future.”

Not that he could use it again.

“You are my everything.”

It was pretty much destroyed, after that accident on that little town street.

“I want nothing more in my life, than for you to be in it.”

When he was so enamored by Y/N, so in love that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, that he ran a red light.

And the truck waiting to go didn’t stop either.

“SPENCER! SPENCER CAN YOU HEAR ME? I NEED YOU TO CALL 911!” she screamed, her voice filled with agony, her limbs mangled in a sea of crushed mental and snapped backwards by the emergency airbag she didn’t realize she was resting her feet on.

Spencer had already called 911. That was the sickest thing about it. Spencer was, physically, perfectly fine. Spencer would get to leave the hospital after just a few days. Spencer could’ve probably gotten out of the car if he tried to. But he stayed, he stayed with Y/N, as she wasn’t fine. As Spencer looked down on her broken body, and tried desperately to find just one piece of skin that wasn’t coated in blood, her blood, that is when he realized. That not only could Y/N not walk out of the hospital with him, but she probably wouldn’t even make it there.

So he sobbed, he struggled to breathe, not because of the ways Y/N did, but because he had caused all the reasons she couldn’t.

“Hey, Spencer, look at me.”

So he did, and he reached for her hands and held them so tightly, and wanted one last time to feel her squeeze back. And she did, just ever so softly. 

“Spencer, I meant everything I said to you. I want you to spend the rest of my life with me. Please.”

“I love you so much Y/N”

“I love you too.”

Spencer was drawn away from his memories once again as he got another phone call. 

But it wasn’t Hotch this time. It was Mr. Y/L/N, so he answered it. He owed him that.

“Are you out of her house yet? You’ve had hours. I want you gone Spencer.”

Spencer sighed, “I’m leaving now sir, I’m just putting the last of my things in the trunk and then I’ll be gone.”

“Good, I never want to see you again Spencer, you hear me?” Mr. Y/L/N said. “And you better not have anything of hers either. All that stuff in your car better belong to you and you only. If Y/N paid for even a dime of it it better still be in that house.”

Spencer looked down at this scarf he was wearing, the one that still smelled like her perfume. The one that he couldn’t bring himself to take off because he reminded him of so much innocence and beauty.

“Yes sir, I didn’t take anything.”

“Good. And Spencer do me a favor.”

“Anything sir.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Mr. Y/L/N said, and then hung up. Spencer sighed, he expected that and fully deserved it.

How else should a father react when you kill his daughter?

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well”

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (1/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing 

Word Count: 2.8k

Part Summary: Y/N is a newly famous actress from a popular TV show and she’s willing to do everything in her power to maintain her perfect image as “America’s Sweetheart.” 

Masterlist

The limelight is a hard place to be under. It’s draining to constantly be on display. Day in and day out I feel as though I’m always looking into a mirror. However, a mirror is replaced by people’s eyes. I see myself through other’s eyes. Being sat on a slippery plastic stool while being watched by millions of Americans before they head off to work is an excellent way to start my day. Perhaps if I keep telling myself that I’ll eventually believe it. Savannah glances down at her cards then continues with the interview.

“Let’s go back to a year ago, if someone approached you and said “you’ll be the most sought after girl in America,” would you had believed them?”

I shake my head “not all.”

If only she knew how absent I am in the current moment. I’ve answered similar questions a million times these past few months. All the exact same questions within the same routine.

“Now, being as famous as you are, how do you cope with your newfound fame?”

There it is, famous. A better-sounding word than popular. After all, adult life is nothing like high school… right?

“I don’t particularly like the word “famous.” When people say “you’re famous!” What they really mean is “a lot of people know you!” At least people think they do.”

She studies me, intrigued by my honest answer, perhaps too honest. “You’re saying America doesn’t know the “real” you? Including your fans?”

I shrug, I can only imagine Nicole’s face right now. My usual bubbly and charmingly excited personality didn’t wake up with me at three this morning.

“I believe they know whatever version of me they’ve created. For some, I’m that girl from the cover of that one magazine they saw in line at the grocery store. For others, I may just a name without a face. That’s the thing about being so-called “famous.” I’ll never have the chance to meet every single person who has ever read an article about me or has seen paparazzi videos. They’ll only see those tainted versions of me. They’ll never have the opportunity to know me personally and make a valid judgment for themselves.”

Savannah hums, her eyebrows scrunched up. “How do you feel about that?”

I sigh, the words settling within me. “It’s disappointing.”

If only they all knew the truth, the reality of it all.

______________________________________________________

After the interview for the show, I fly straight back to Los Angeles from New York. My schedule has been worse, but I never miss the chance to complain to my manager. Thankfully, Nicole is a mother of tween girls and a ten-year-old boy so she knows how to take my childish whining. Once we’re landed in LAX I countdown the minutes until I can return to my bed.

“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing heels on the plane,” Nicole nags me.

“Because you never know who you’re gonna meet! Best to dress nicely just in case!”

It’s been a rule of mine since I first discovered my style and began to wear makeup, never go out in public without looking and feeling confident. I’ve learned that people can sense when others don’t feel confident and take advantage of that.

“I doubt your Mom would like it,” she nags.

“Well she’s not in California is she?” I fire back but snicker slightly.

My momma’s absence was bitter-sweet, in the beginning, now it’s all sweet. When we have our luggage, Nicole leads me through the airport to where the car is picking us up.

“You may want to put on your sunglasses now. We’re about to cross the line,” she warns.

I grab my glasses out of my purse like she instructed and slide them on. She was right, as soon as we cross over that taped line it’s a free-for-all for the paparazzi.

“Y/N!” “Y/N!”

“HEY! SHOW US A SMILE!”

The yelling doesn’t bother me as it used to in the past. Now, it’s the clicking. The clicking from their cameras. A constant *click* *click* *click*, from each of the thirty cameras. Nicole attempts to create a path for me by walking ahead.

“HOW WAS YOUR TRIP TO NEW YORK?”

“Good, thank you” I reply politely with a smile toward the tile floor.

I try to manage a balance when it comes to paparazzi. They have their job and so do I. Following me, taking pictures or videotaping me is their job. As long as they respect me, I will respect them. Nicole says it’s good for my image. My image wasn’t the first reason I was nice toward them, I was being myself. Nowadays, I’m hardly myself. I have my name, Y/N Voss, but it no longer feels like my name. The paparazzi are not used to getting easy responses out of people because there’s a long pause before the next question.

“WHEN DOES FILMING START BACK UP FOR THE SHOW?”

The question comes from a different voice but that doesn’t keep me from answering.

“In two days!” I gleam, looking forward to returning to set.

“CAN YOU GIVE ANY INFO ABOUT THE NEW SEASON?”

I chuckle a little but think it over. I agreed in my contract not to give out spoilers but there is a little info I was told I can let out. Plus, I’ve only seen the script for the first episode so I don’t know too much.

“I can say that Hollyn will have a bump start this season but no worries,” I answer vaguely but with interest.

Nicole and I manage to reach outside and she guides me down the sidewalk to where the car is supposed to pick us up.

“RUMOR HAS IT YOU’RE DATING SOMEONE! CARE TO COMMENT?”

“I’m very much single,” I laugh, finding the topic humorous. “Not enough hours in the day to share them!”

There are always rumors that I’m dating someone though none of it’s true.

“YOU LOOK GREAT TODAY Y/N!”

“YOU ALWAYS DO!”

“Thanks, boys!” I give my appreciation. 

The driver gets out of the front and pops the trunk. Nicole informs me to get in the car and let her worry about our things along with the driver.

“WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE SUMMER?”

I open my door but pause to answer the last question. “Work, of course, but I also want to have some fun.”

“HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!”

“SEE YA LATER Y/N!”

They all hurry to get some last shots and I grant them a couple of seconds.

“You too! See you guys later!” I wave goodbye then climb into the car.

Nicole gets in a minute later and gives the driver the address. “You did great back there,” she compliments.

“Eh, it was nothing. I was only answering their questions.” I remove my glasses and get settled in as best as I can for the hour drive home.

She pulls out her binder full of scheduling material for me.

“Yes, but you were willing and kind. The public and media appreciate that! You’re becoming America’s Sweetheart!”

I would never admit it to Nicole but that title she keeps pushing makes me anxious every time I hear it. None of this was planned, it was thrown at me. Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m grateful for what I have but geez! When everyone is telling you a whole country adores you, how are you supposed to handle that? Especially at eighteen. It was no more than a year ago I was back in South Carolina and just another girl in high school. Now, I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” I’ll play the part but it doesn’t make the job any less intimidating.

__________________________________________________________

My best friends/co-stars, Sam and Penelope, meet up with me for dinner to celebrate my first night back in town after the press tour. The three of us have been dividing our time around the country working on various projects between filming the show. Any time we can all get together is a gift.

Ever since I’ve known Sam Merka, girls flung themselves at him. Even I’ll say it, he’s a good-looking guy. If Grant Gustin had a younger brother, it would be Sam. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, we’re just friends. A sibling sort of bond. Since he’s eight years older than me, he likes a big brother.

Though Penelope is older too, one can’t tell since I tend to act more mature. I’m jealous of her sun-kissed long blonde hair and dark brown eyebrows. We all kinda got thrown into our friendship. Having to play life-long friends an hour after meeting for the first time was, to say the least interesting. Five years later, and we are like three peas in a pond. A mini family to have each other’s back in the big city.

For dinner, we agreed on The Nice Guy, an Italian place in West Hollywood. The most important aspect of the place is the amount of privacy it grants. The interior is a lounge, super lowkey, with booths, couches, and coffee tables but there are no photos allowed. Since no photos can be taken that means the three of us and others can enjoy ourselves in peace. Sam called dibs on being designated driver as per usual as the “bodyguard” for us girls. The paparazzi tend to hang out around the restaurant because it’s a well-known spot for celebrities.

“Maybe we can slip past them,” Sam says optimistically as we exit the car.

He meets me around the front and Penelope joins us after getting out of the backseat.

“HEY! HEY! HEY!”

From in front of the restaurant, a ripple of cameras begin to take notice of us.

“IT’S THE KIDS FROM THE SEASONS OF LIFE!”

“Yep, we really snuck past them!” I tease Sam playfully.

He huffs, annoyed with the situation. Sam loves his job but hates the lack of privacy aspect. He isn’t a fan of crowds either which I can understand. However, he’s great at masking it behind his charming smile. It’s what we were trained to do. Yet, Sam is better at managing a crowd mentally overall than I am. He understands how they affect me sometimes. The swarm of photographers rushes up to us. Sam leads the way toward the restaurant door. Penelope remains close, keeping a hand on my forearm to stay together. The cluster follows us down the sidewalk to the building.

“SAM! SAM! HEARD ABOUT THE GQ PHOTOSHOOT! CONGRATS ON GETTING THE COVER MAN!”

Sam chuckles next to me, “thanks, dude!”

“PENELOPE! RUMOR HAS IT YOU’LL BE SWITCHING OVER TO THE BIG SCREEN!”

“Exactly, it’s a rumor!” She replies a matter-of-factly.

The *click* *click* *click* and the flashing lights in the dead of night never fail to overwhelm me. Though, Nicole has told me I never appear overwhelmed when I interact with them. I force on the brave and confident face. I’m not me when I’m in front of cameras or important people, I’m Y/N Voss. I’m two very different people.

While I’m lost in thought, I get stuck when one photographer gets too close to my face with his camera and blinds me for a second. Sam and Penelope don’t notice my absence amongst the chaos until another photographer barks at the other to back off. Then, I feel Sam’s hand slip into mine and he protectively escorts me toward the door with determination.

“ANYTHING YOU TWO WANT TO SHARE ABOUT HOLLYN AND ELLIOT FOR NEXT SEASON?”

Hollyn and Elliot are Sam and my’s characters from The Seasons of Life, the show we star in together. Our characters have been on again off again for the past two seasons. According to the last season’s finale, the two are currently together, but of course, the season ended on a cliffhanger so their relationship isn’t very stable.

“Sorry guys, can’t share anything!” Sam answers, sounding a tad irritable.

“ANYTHING IN REAL LIFE? YOU TWO WERE BOTH IN NEW YORK THIS WEEKEND!”

“That’s true, but we never have the chance to meet up!” I reply nicely.

Press events for last season have come to an end and work officially begins in no time! Downtime for me is filming and it couldn’t come at a better time. I’ve missed being home in Los Angeles. Living out of a suitcase and sleeping each night on a plane isn’t the best way to live, at least for me. We finally reach the doors and I thank the heavens.

“Oh my gosh! There’s no way!” I hear what sounds like girls squealing and I slow down to see where it’s coming from. My hand slips from Sam’s as he goes on. When he’s determined to get away from the paparazzi, he can ignore the voices. Yet, when he notices that I do not follow he finally stops.

“Excuse me!” A girl calls amongst the clicking and shouting.

The paparazzi move aside a tad and create a path for me to see two young teens jumping up and down. They must be around fourteen I’m guessing, younger than me at least. I approach them to see what’s the matter. I can hardly see anything with all the bright lights.

“Hi! How are you?” I greet but once I get closer and cover my eyes with the flashing lights, I recognize them. “Sarah! Emma! How are you two?”

These two have been some of my biggest supports. They run a Youtube channel and create content about their reactions to episodes of the series. Somehow they manage to make appearances at any events relating to the show. I’ve met them numerous times at events, so have other members of the cast. Besides being two of the sweets girls in the world, they’ve created a fan page for me on Instagram and Twitter.

“Good, good!” Emma replies eagerly.

“It’s been so long since we last saw you!” Sarah adds.

“It really has! When was the last time we saw each other? During the press tour?”

They nod in unison as though they’ve rehearsed it.

“Well, group hug!” I hold out my arms and they gladly accept.

“Can we get a picture?” Emma practically begs, bouncing on her heels.

“Of course!” I take Emma’s phone and hold it out to the crowd of paparazzi. “Could one of you take our picture by chance?”

Many of the guys offer and I select a random one in front of me.

“Squeeze in tight!” I tell the girls as I stand between them and we wrap our arms around each other.

“One, two, three!” The man takes a couple of shots and hands, Emma, back her phone.

“Thank you!” The three of us say together.

We all hover over her phone to check out the pictures.

“So cute!” I awe at the photos.

“Y/N...” Sam places his hand on my back to usher me along.

“Oh, my-” Emma covers her mouth.

“Sam!” Sarah’s jaw is to the sidewalk.

“Hey girls!” he charmingly smiles.

He’s had the chance to meet them a few times while on the press tour and at other various events. I was there to introduce them which was one of the most entertaining moments of my life. I thought the girls were going to faint!

“Can we ask a quick question? It’s for our channel!” Sarah nervously bites her lower lip.

“Yeah, yeah, anything for you guys!” I answer without hesitation.

Sam wraps his arm around my waist while we’re talking to the girls and I don’t think much of it but the cameras begin to go nuts. The men behind them don’t say a word since we’re occupied but there they go *click* *click* click*.

“Is there any hope of you two getting together IRL?” Emma questions intently without hesitation.

I press my lips together with amusement and turn my head to Sam. He has the same look of pondering the question. He squints his eyes at me and then the two of us turn to the girls.

“Just friends,” we answer in unison.

“Best friends!” Sam adds playfully.

“Best friends forever ever!” I one-up him.

The two girls laugh with us, but it’s clear they’re a little disappointed.

“Well, I still bet on you two,” Sarah confidently points out.

Sam and I get a kick out of it. Our viewers want us together too.

“We better get going, our moms are waiting,” Emma informs us.

“Okay, quick hug!” I order and the four of us group hug.

We say our goodbyes and when the girls disappear the men behind the cameras start yelling.

“YOU’RE GREAT Y/N!”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW THEM?”

“Their names are Emma and Sarah. They run a popular Youtube channel, Twitter, and Instagram accounts for the show. Super sweet girls those two!”

“DO YOU KNOW ALL YOUR FANS?”

“I try to! I know a good amount!” I grin proudly.

Sam guides me into the restaurant and his hand never leaves my back. All of it is platonic of course, nothing more. As I told the paparazzi before, there isn’t enough time in my life for me to share any with someone.

 ________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @canyoubuymetoast

[hunterartemis]

Media Bias (Avengers X Alien!Reader)

It was a request from anonymous reader and since I have limited experience with tagging, I am going to quote the person’s request here:

“ Hi can you please do Avengers x reader where the reader is like Starfire from og teen titans (but the reader is green and the blasts are blue) and the Avengers go on a talk show and the host is being very mean to her. Thanks”

So, dear anonymous. I hope you enjoy!“

Words: a whopping 4100

Y/n, open the door” I heard Sam thudding away on my door as I buried myself in the layers of blanket and put the air condition humid enough to cause a mini monsoon.

“Go away Wilson and leave me alone--” I bellowed on top of my voice.

“Y/n it’s been more than 7 hrs, you got to come out... whatever happened in the morning you gotta let it go--”

“I don’t wanna let it go... I am a national embarrassment--”

You must be thinking, what is the situation you’ve been dragged into. Let me pause there and rewind 17 hours back to give you a complete understanding which lead to this complete mess.

People think our story ended and sealed with Thanos never got to see what we go through in the New York penthouse. With the ongoing Pandemic on board, people are desperate to see us even more, as if it is the new Thanos and we are to defeat it. There is no greater sense of helplessness than playing the puppet of courage without doing anything. So whoever wrote that “after the defeat of big bad, the heroes rejoice” was a big idiot.

And thus, I found myself awake after hours, sitting alongside the broad glass panel that showed the completely stopped-in-time, shining in the dark cityscape of once bustling New York. A fleeting sense of desolation plagued me as I remember my own world in the verge of extinction. My breath almost stopped in the great worry of my fellow living being in this planet; the one who saved me from destitution--

 “y/n, is that you?”A calm and concerned paternal voice broke the train of my thought. I sharply looked behind my shoulder to see a disheveled figure of man standing in the dark. By the tousled curls and the slouched hem of the sweatpants, I knew was Bruce.

“Urh, you startled me!” I said with a dismissive voice. I felt almost embarrassed to realize what I was thinking moments ago. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.

“It’s you who startled me y/n, what are you doing up so late?” Bruce said with a groggy voice rubbing his eyes rather irritatingly. “We have an important event to attend tomorrow first thing in the morning” he slowly moved towards from the shadowy part of the room to the path of dimmed light from the glass panel and spared a long glance at my face. The way he looked at me sometimes irritated me, because it was an inalienable fact that he fell into the same category of humans who express an unhealthy obsession with my kind: a scientist.

“It’s not like I enjoy staying up like you Lowly Human...I am as stressed for tomorrow as you are!” I tore my face from his ken to express my displeasure. In reply, he sighed disappointedly, which sounded patronizing in my already agitated mind.

“I wish you’d stop insulting my specie whenever you get upset...” he gently put his hand in my shoulder, but soon he withdrew and stepped back. “And what is that god-awful smell?”

Any female whether she is human or not is very sensitive to criticism, especially about how she appears, thus Bruce’s comment was not only offensive but hurtful as well. I could not restrain my anger and annoyance anymore, and I stood up sharply to face him “I just happen to wet myself in the rain yesterday at my detour downtown and it turns out it has too much sulphuric acid and it is peeling my skin away... right before when I am about to go up close on television.”  My hand subconsciously moved up to my cheek, where flakes were forming in my otherwise jade smooth skin. “And you are telling me to stop insulting your specie... I will when you unicellular cretins will stop ruining your own environment—“ I folded my arms defensively, gazing away from Bruce’s face “--as if I don’t get ridiculed enough for my chrorophyllic skintone, and now I am shedding like a common reptile.”

“Alright alright I am sorry...” Bruce threw up his arms defensively, and his small paces back and forth showed his discomfort more than anything, “do you want something for your skin, CeraVe or something? I can fetch you some ice if you want?”

His apologetic gesture made my whole effort defeated; but my pride disrupted me from being apologetic “Forget it... as if those human manures would work on my skin—“ I heaved a sigh and looked at him again “must we do the thing? I mean I am not the only alien that set foot on earth in this decade, why must I be walked around like a showdog in front of all the people?”

For some moments Bruce did not answer me. I almost thought he was ignoring me, but then I realised that he must be contemplating on every word he wanted to say and every word that was running through his brilliant mind. Out of anyone in the team, Bruce was the visual hole, the less than heroic material: even with the Hulk. And for this, the society made sure that he would be self conscious for the rest of his life for his other identity. My annoyance almost melted to sympathy when I heard him speak in a rather frustrated voice.

“Y/N, I know that you are stressed about this and frankly I hate this stuff too, but this is very important for the people: for your people as well as ours. Not all things that come from the space are benign and people need reassurance that you are not hostile. I hate this too, but it is for the greater good!”

“Greater good, greater good... it is always for the greater good!”  The same old daily whining of lofty agenda made me sick “I am sick and tired of these Brucie, I don’t want to do this anymore... I am tired about people asking me weird questions and cretins posing as scientists trying to push probes on me the first chances they get-- I wish I could just disappear with the portal that brought me in this cursed place!“

Bruce came closer and grabbed my shoulders gently “Don’t say that y/n... otherwise we wouldn’t have the means to counterattack all those aliens—“ my silence might have given him the cue that he wasn’t doing a very good job at convincing. His wavering eyes fixed on my face once again as he spoke “okay, here is a deal: how about it is the last time you appear in public, hm? Once you satisfy them that you are part of the team, I swear people will leave you alone... they left the Hulk alone too once they understood that he is one of the good guys!”

“No but...“

“No ifs and buts... go, and have some sleep. Let me look in the lab if we have some squalanes and peptide solutions lying around—“ he said with a paternal affection and disappeared into the dark passage which lead to his room

“Thanks Brucie you are the best—“

I couldn’t help but to smile a little. Humans!

...

“This is a bad idea I am telling you--“ I told Bruce with an hushed tone as the makeup artist went on with a puff on my face for the millionth times. The rest of my team was behind me, getting the same attentions to their dismay. I could tell Bucky was downright uncomfortable as his makeup artist had a hard time getting not distracted by his bionic arm; and Wanda was downright glaring at the man who kept flicking the brush on her nose.

“relax y/n, you are smart and you are friendly, you are going to ace this and trust me people are going to love you--“ Bruce said with gritted teeth to make sure no one could tell what he was saying. He almost flinched as some of the powder made into his nose and the makeup artist followed him up with a q-tip.

“My face is itchy...“ I whispered again, trying not to gouge my face out with my nails as the powder sat on the flaky part of the cheek. If this wasn’t a studio I would have scratched my face like a lunatic and ended up as someone who was attacked by a bear in the mountains. And I was glad that I was standing beside Bruce who knew how not to go overboard with the things. Clint would have brushed them off, Wanda and Bucky would have panicked, and Sam’s gestures no matter how genuine would have made me laugh.

“Wanda already told the makeup artist to spray you with Squalane, your face isn’t half as bad as it were yesterday night“ Bruce then went on politely gesturing the makeup artist to spray the stuff Bruce brought from the lab in a clear bottle, and the look on the Makeup Artist’s face was between annoyance and bursting into tears.

“Brucie...“ “I don’t wanna mess it up--“ I said nervously as we walked into the couch and settled with the others.

“Trust me you won’t... “ Bruce graciously consoled me.

The cameraman cued and we were all gestured to look into the main camera as the lights in front of us adjusted accordingly. Within all hustle and bustle, the host walked in like a royalty, and by the looks of his face and those following him with makeup and refreshment, he had a really bad morning.

“We will go on air in 3, 2 and 1”

“Good Morning America, this is your host Justin Fallon and welcome to another episode of The Early Show. Today we have with us some really special guests. You might know them from News, the murals, the comics and the Merchs please welcome our own global superheroes: The Avengers. Welcome to our show” the host said with an uncomfortable friendliness and turned towards us.

"Thanks for having us with you" Sam answered graciously, with a little awkwardness. I could understand why; it was always Tony, Steve and Natasha who spoke in public. After such a terrible loss, he is struggling to fill up their shoes for the sake of our public image. He had been wrapped up into a pretty bad controversy recently for succeeding as Captain America and it had a pretty bad toll on him—to the point his speech kind of went from cheerful to composed in an unnatural way.

 "It’s been way too long since our morning couch looked so colorful and it surely brightens up the day.” The host said with an obligatory politeness. Although the term was innocent enough but it seemed not so—I instantly froze up and million things started flying inside my head: was I looking good enough, is my patches showing under the layers of power and squalane. Turns out it was not me alone. From the corner of my eye I could sense the tension behind me from Clint and Bucky and I know it was different than mine. The host must have wanted the old team, and looked like he was stuck with the mediocre leftovers.

“Thank you...“ Sam replied.

“So here you guys are after averting the big wipeout crisis, in the quiet and chilling, so how does it feel to be in the pensive from being hyperactive all the time?“

“Well, at first it did feel kind of boring and lack luster, but slowly we are adjusting to it. With the ongoing Pandemic crisis I think we just have to adjust to the situation. In a way, I think we are all helping each other by staying inside and recuperating.” Sam answered diplomatically.

“That’s so nice” the interviewer said quite curtly and then changing the topic he sharply turned to Doctor Banner “I know of all you people Dr. Banner will find this Lockdown Leisure slightly more comforting, isn’t that so Doctor Banner?”

Wait, what was that? Was that even normal? Sam was sitting in the front and after him Bucky, then Wanda and then Bruce. Should not he come gradually? Breathe... maybe I am reading too much into this. Keep a friendly face, don’t think too much... the entire nation is watching... this is the one time I have to do things right! It’s for me, my team who housed me and my people.

I had to give props to Bruce for managing things calmly despite his claims about public speaking. He politely replied “Well theoretically it should be but it’s not like causes of anger cannot exist within the so called peaceful environment if you think about it, but I am glad you showed your concern” and like a pro, reached out to the glass in front of him to sip some water—like some real celebs in talk shows.

“Isn’t that true! So Solaris, how does it feel to be surrounded by the icons of the earth?”

I wasn’t really ready for the sudden attention. For a second I blanked out completely and gaped my mouth like a complete idiot. My stupefied face must have been quite prominent because the host tried to laugh it off lightly to divert the attention. I am still wrapping my head around the fact how some humans work so beautifully under so much attention—If I could choose between blasting off alien armies and speaking in talk shows, I will take the aliens instead.

“I..I--It’s quite fun... there is never a dull moment with them--“ I manage to utter, and thankfully it wasn’t a gurgling sound from a deep abyss.

“The thing is, being the most newest member, you sort of have a mystery around you, the kind of a Blue Comet sort--“

“Oh thank you— “ great going me, like a real talk show celeb—keep it up!

“So why don’t we break that down... Solaris, is that true that you came from a whole another galaxy which is not Milky Way?” the Talk show host asked, reading from a small piece of card.

Finally, something I can talk about all day: stars, planets and galaxy. I will have to slay this, I chanted inside and replied after drawing a breath “Yes that’s true. I am from Planet Auriga from Pleiades system. Our Sun is Alcyone, the second brightest star right after Aldebaran. You people call our system Taurus Constellation--” 

“--so much astrophysics, take notes kids they might ask you at the NASA interview.“ the talk show host interrupted. It annoyed me greatly because I could finish the words I worked so hard to speak confidently. So that’s how Bruce must feel all the time when people interrupted him when he explains things. However the host went on as if nothing happened “For a near human creature in this planet, do you identify more with the Professor X’s troop or with the Avengers?”

Near human creature? My race is literally the most Superior in all of galaxy.

“I don’t really understand what you mean...” I said as politely as I could manage.

“I mean isn’t it hard to fit in when you are the only alien in the group--“

The flippant remark was rude and I tried not to wrap my head around it. I recalled Bruce’s words to keep cool and maintain a neutral face replied : “I mean I am not the only one, Thor is also not of the earth and he is a darling to be around. Alien or not I think I have learned a lot about myself and the ways of earth by spending time with this wonderful people?“

I could hear the audience clapping and cheering with my reply. A surge of pride swept across my chest and I smiled slightly at the audience.

“How sweet--“ the host said, keeping with the cheerful mood “as the outer world people are coming into the planets, we think a lot of things are shifting, do you find it hard to cope into the earth from where you come from--“

Finally, a thoughtful question, I made a solid eye contact with the host and replied “No, the atmosphere is pretty much the same in Auriga, but I think humans can do a lot better taking care of the environment. I know for a fact that millions of planets and their lifeforms were extinct because of excesses I see on earth.”

The thoughtfulness of the host was only for so long “The girl’s been around... if you know what I mean—“ he commented with a little wink, and from the audience’s laugh I knew he didn’t mean something polite or mildly positive. After the laughter subsided, he turned again to me “I dig the midnight blue hair... it is so contradictory and yet it works“ he complimented “because you know scale and hair are not something we see very often in our planet--“ 

Excuse me, what was that supposed to mean?

“--so tell me are the lapis cascades all natural? I mean they are not dyed at all?”

“No they are not... the special keratin bond that reflect the blue pigment of the natural light but they are actually transparent—“ I added objectively.

“So that means in the right lighting you don’t need to mow the bush—“ the host said with a curved smile on his lips, and the audience went on laughing in the same manner they did moments ago.

Even under the blowing airconditioner, I started t feel really warm around my neck “I really don’t know what you mean; you are making any sense at all! Do you guys need special light to mow the bush, do you do in the solstices or during the eclipses—“  this time I didn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed.

“--she is really really funny you guys--“ the host again smiled and acted like I was a stone wall and my reaction didn’t register in his mind at all. “So you are saying you don’t mow your bush at all?“

“I live in a New York Penthouse, there is no bush--“ honestly if this wasn’t a dumb talk show, I would have taught this impudent human a lesson.

The host looked a little uncomfortable as our eye contact lasted for several seconds. He cleared his throat and went on “Okay you guys, she just clarified that there is no bush, so let’s move on to your...your look... I am so fascinated by it, it’s so reptile chic--“

What’s your fascination with cold blooded animals? Are you asking to die like one?

“Um, thanks...?!”

“So how do you manage to maintain this--“

That was honestly the last straw. This host is impolite and rude and he leeches off the discomfort of his talk show host. When this realisation hit, all my self-control and self preservation went out of the window. The vacuum was replaced by the sheer annoyance towards the host who deliberately mistreated us since the beginning.

“Do you think that’s how I live, maintaining my skin and mowing the bush--“ my pitch rose from my previous composed tone “I mean what kind of questions are these?“

The host was still wearing his phony smile on his face, but I could see the colour slightly draining off his face “No I was just asking, because the audience wants to know--“

“I think the audience is smart enough to understand that they cannot get the green skin on natural blue hair, so can you move on to a more sensible question?“ I answered heatedly and defensively at the same time, and as I spoke I felt the aura of tension shifting from discomfort to sheer panic.

“Y/n... don’t do this--” I heard Bucky whisper very faintly from above.

“Solaris, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t always get a green-skin hottie on the morning couch, don’t be offended!” he said while he gestured covertly to cut the camera on the other side. I have to give this man an applause , I could tell he had busted all his courage but he kept the face of nonchalance too good to be true—no wonder he sat on this chair for so long.

“What’s your obsession with the skin colour?—“ I said heatedly as I stood up from my seat “Don’t you dare cut the camera... don’t you dare! Do you think you humans are the epitome of beauty from which point everyone in the galaxy should confirm? I am sick of this... Everyone, I am so sorry for your wasted time but no more of this!”

“Solaris--“ this time it was Sam’s voice that implored me from the sides. For a split second I felt bad for him, because as Captain America, he would have to take the heat from the public. But I was at the point of no return. If I back out now, I would be called a pushover and I would have to endure that image for the rest of my life in the earth.

“You know what, as you are so obsessed with my looks, I would love to show you another thing of mine that is blue--”

Blast

So long story short, Solaris goes to a morning talk show, Solaris encounters a rude host and Solaris blasts him with her Blue Sun Beam. Biggest disaster ever!

The thudding outside the door would not stop, and honestly their over attention was getting on my nerves “honestly, why don’t you go away... what are you, my royal nanny?”

“Very funny Solaris... now come out and get some food--” this time it was Bucky who spoke. Although he was the shortest to reply, but it made me well up. He had the shittiest history amongst all of us: hunted, betrayed, manipulated and now sidelined—how can I see my problems bigger than him.

 “How can I... I ruined everything, all the reputation you built throughout the year, I blew it up within 3 minutes, how can I show my face to you guys! I was supposed to be the superior being--“

A moment of silence followed. But then the old familiar calm voice spoke from the other side

“y/n... It’s not about superior or inferior, you were just very very honest with your feeling! sometimes it’s good for the public, sometimes it is not. I mean look at me--I have struggling with my anger all my life and god knows the stuff I have wrecked in Hulk state. It’s okay to make a mistake... no one blames you!”

“Ha ha right...“ I replied sarcastically, feeling mad about how well Bruce understood my situation.

“Honestly, the way you acted today... Tony would have been proud!”

I could not hold myself anymore. All the feeling that has been plaguing me until now: embarrassment, guilt, confusion, sadness... all came down like a thundering rain with that one statement. I rushed and slammed the door open and jumped on Bruce to embrace him into a tight hug. At first I could tell Bruce was taken aback, but soon his firm arms snaked under my back to hold me tightly.

“I am so sorry... I ruined you all--“ I hid my face in Bruce’s shoulder. Suddenly I felt a gentle pat on my back, I straightened up and looked, it was Sam. His awkward cautionary expression was gone and he looked cherry as the old days “As Captain America, I cannot condone your behaviour, but as Sam... well, that jerk deserved it--“ he reached for his pocket and took out his cellphone “and hundred thousand people in New York agree with you“

I looked at him with a curious expression as he gave me his phone. When I looked at it, it was a tabloid video that had the clip of me blasting the host and it had—

“Stars in galaxies!... 100K likes?” I exclaimed

“And look down, there are comments too--” Bucky scrolled down from behind my shoulder to descend to the white space.

That jerk deserves it, he was literally harassing her...You go Solaris #MeToo

Solaris is so cool, I wish I was as cool as her.

Ugh, I hate that morning show host, if I was in her place I would have thrown him off the stark tower, #SunQueen

Racists never change, and We stan our color positive hero #SolarisRocks

Humans...

...

Okay, that took a lot of time because at first I didn’t know how to work on the request, then I had to go back and forth and rewrite most of it two times because I wasn’t convinced it was good. So I sincerely hope it’s good because I am freaked out as hell.

I also gave reader a name because she is inspired by an alien character in TeenTitans called “Starfire”. So I call her Solaris, and was constantly reminded of Solar of Mamamoo (TMI)

I don’t hate on Fallon, I just used his name because it is recognisable by American public and I also had to see a lot of Jimmy Fallon’s show to write about the Talk Show plot. I was also greatly inspired by Naomi Campbell, RDJ and Nicki Minaj’s interviews.

[athys-obelia]

hey hey hey.

so like i had a thought?

au where felix notices how down diana is about her pregnancy and approaches her. she confides in him - she's afraid for her child, any complications with their health, their future, everything. the chance she is betting on is a good life for her child with their father, but...she cannot foresee the future, after all. diana has worries as any new mother would.

(under cut for length)

and after pondering on it, felix proposes an idea: what if he could garuntee this child's safety? diana had already expressed her will to make him their godfather, shouldn't he rise to the occasion? you should run away, he tells her, and spend the rest of your pregnancy at one of my father's estates.

she agrees, albeit hesitantly. he's been distancing himself from her - claude - ever since the pregnancy, but she visits him on her last night at the palace. it is a horrible night - all goodbyes are - and claude seems to sense something. he asks of her to spend the night, and diana can't find it within herself to reject the request. she'll just have to slip during at night, she thinks.

she spends her final trimester on robane lands, under the care and knowledge of felix's father as the knight spearheads the quiet search for the emperor's favorite concubine. she feels strangely at peace.

the search intensifies as her due date nears, and the week of athanasia's birth, everything...stops. duke robane explains the emperor cannot make the loss of an heir public knowledge, and has ordered the destruction of ruby palace. the concubines have been dismissed.

diana receives a special visit a few hours before going into labour - before her is a beautiful brunette with determined eyes. diana's body grows weaker by the day, she has been bedridden for the past few days, but she feels content. her child will be fine. so will her lover. claude may think her selfish after this, though she supposes if it can garuntee her baby's smile, she will accept it. she can be selfish if needed.

the obelian skies mirror the chaotic silence within the imperial palace. the young emperor has not made an appearance in the audience hall for days. his tailor has not received any orders for the usual military attire lately - rather, the instructions detail a simplistic, pure white fabric, as if...almost as if he were in mourning. the eerie calm seems to foreshow a storm.

and amidst the rain and thunder roaring across the empire, under the gaze of an ever loyal knight and a young lady, a princess is born quiet. her declining breaths reflect her mother's. "she has your eyes, my lady," says lilian york, "her father's beautiful colouring, but the strength is from you. the strength you have given her. she will live with power."

"and love?" the new mother asks weakly.

"lots," the knight swears. "a child borne of love deserves nothing less."

she is safe, my daughter - my daughter is...

Xx

by the end of the week, the imperial directory is edited at the command of his majesty, the emperor. a new name is added.

athanasia de alger obelia.

lilian york sighs at the babe in her arms. "the undying...what a cruel joke. his majesty can't possibly know whether lady diana or the little princess are still alive."

"no - it is the name lady diana expressed her partiality for," felix says with a slight smile, "it is a dare."

little athanasia groans.

Xx

athanasia de alger obelia - or, more commonly, athanasia robane - has seen many families. lilian does not what to say when the princess wonders why she cannot call her 'mother'. why she cannot address the men she believes to be her father and grandfather as such, why her grandfather refers to her as 'my lady'.

at the age of four, athanasia has stopped asking such questions. lilian cannot help but marvel at the way she avoids the topic with an intelligence that should realistically be far beyond her years.

athanasia's grandfather has made habit of asking her the same question as he tucks her in every night. "are you happy, my lady?"

she nods every time - it is such an obvious answer, after all. "athy is so happy, grandpapa! thiiiiis much!! why do you always ask that?"

her grandfather smiles. athy loves that her grandfather smiles so much. "i come from a family of knights, my lady. we are taught to honour our promises first and foremost."

"did you promise someone you would keep me happy, grandpapa?"

duke robane raises an amused eyebrow. "aren't you chatty today? get some sleep, sweet one. i will be here in the morning."

he always is.

xx

duke robane tends to frequent the palace often. today, however, is a special day.

"were you on your way to the hall?" the emperor inquires, running into the red haired noble on his walk.

he bows in greeting. "i was not. i did not wish to bother you today, your majesty. i know you do not like to be disturbed during this time of year."

claude rather likes duke robane. he is relatively tolerable, like an older, wiser version of felix. "then what are doing outside the palace?"

"i was on my way to town, your majesty, with a... family member. her birthday is arriving soon, you see, but she was quite taken with your beautiful gardens, so i let her wander outside - i wouldn't dare allow her inside without your majesty's approval, of course."

claude raises an eyebrow. "a family member?"

"my granddaughter, sire."

claude glances at felix curiously. "i was not aware of this... development. how many children are you fathering when you're not bothering me?"

felix snorts.

"er...a foster granddaughter, your majesty."

"i do not see her here. i assume she is felix's current heir, is she not? i should be offended you have not introduced us."

"she is playing a game, sire," duke robane explains, "she has gone to hide and i am to find her. it is called hide and seek, as i am told."

he winces at the familiar voice calling out, "grandpapa!! look at this shiny flowe-"

little athanasia's face pales.

"my lady, meet his majesty, the emperor of the Obelian empire."

the blonde princess clutches her grandfather's sleeve. "from... from athy's books?"

felix cannot tear his gaze away from the emperor's face - or rather, the jewelled eyes that stare at his goddaughter.

claude could laugh. that face, even with her eyes matching the prominent robane silvery eyes...felix must really take him for an idiot, he thinks. really, he should be offended. he remembers putting felix in charge of the search years ago... lying to the emperor? disguising a member of the imperial family to pass off as their own? in what land would this not be a crime?

still, this...this 'athy' looks happy. or looked happy, before she saw him. only a fool would grow to be jovial in the palace, so claude wonders whether thank you may be in order for keeping his child so cheery.

then again, this said under the assumption that he would've kept the child alive in the first place.

claude glances at duke robane - the man is usually so poised, he thinks he'll have some fun while this little charade is up.

"what is your name?" he asks blankly.

the duke interjects, "we call her athy, sire. the name athena truly fits her - she is a very bright child."

ah, interesting...felix's father seems to both be smarter and care for the girl more than claude initially credited him.

"hide and seek," claude muses, barely making an effort to hide his smirk, "so, you've finally decided to come out of hiding."

Xx

"i was on my way to the lake. get ready to join me."

duke robane glances at five year old athanasia - she had been called to the palace for tea with the emperor once, after which their little tea parties became something of a common occurrence. he had faced hell and beyond trying to keep it under wraps - at least felix's position as the emperor's guard was a comfort.

"your majesty, forgive me, but the lady hasn't learnt to swim. i fear it may be dangerous."

athanasia shoots him a look - don't argue with the emperor, grandpapa!

"what's there to worry about when she's with me?" claude asks, eyebrow quirked, "besides. the three of you should be quite used to playing dangerous games by now."

felix sputters. "your, your majesty?"

yes, dealing with house robane is much more entertaining than roger alpheus could hope to be...

"what was it? hide and seek. your daughter could get lost, isn't that sort of thing very dangerous?"

athanasia raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, as felix flushes red. claude finds himself wondering - not for the first time - what goes inside her head? it's not uncommon for this child of five to react with the maturity of an adult, intriguingly.

"lets go, uncle!" she exclaims, offering him her hand as he's seen the duke and felix hold it often. she interwined her fingers with his once he accepts her hand. so small, it is. small and soft, as if he could crush her with the littlest force.

claude stares at her platinum blonde hair, a hint of a smile playing on his features. "robane has gotten quite daring lately. of course, a bold house will raise a bold child."

Xx

"grandpapa?"

duke robane glances at the blonde in his doorway - how out of place her bright hair had once looked, bouncing around in contrast to the rich, deep browns and reds of the robane mansion. the estate seems to lose life whenever his foster granddaughter visits the palace, now. as per their little custom, she visits him in his study at her return. "my lady. come."

"i have to greet lily soon or she'll get mad. she hates when i meet you without being dressed for it. but i really wanted to see grandpapa." she grins brightly, and he thinks her smile is the gods compensating for the moon's quiet glow. the princess takes her place on his lap. "what are you doing, grandpapa?"

"there's some trouble at the border. i'm only looking over our damages, i'll be done soon."

athanasia's grandpapa has never once dismissed her questions claiming she's too young. he's never withheld knowledge she's asked for. sure, he makes it so the terms are easier for her to understand, but she's never been out of the loop. "how has the emperor been to you, sweet one?"

"i almost called him daddy today," she admits, feeling her grandfather's hand on her shoulder tighten.

"oh?"

athanasia chuckles. "well, that's a lie. i did call him that. but...he seemed okay with it."

"truly?"

"yeah! he's so odd. he even told me i should stop wearing so much red and black."

"what did you say to that?" the duke asks.

"i told him they were my house colours, obviously. i can't just stop wearing my house colours! he said purple suits me better. i mean, if i was his daughter or something i could wear a lot of purple. it's the imperial family's colour, isn't it?"

he clears his throat. "...you were at the palace for the entire day, my dear, weren't you bored?"

"not really. oh! i met a magician today too."

"a magician?"

"mhm! everyone at the palace is so weird, honestly. apparently he's been sleeping there ever since emperor aeternitas? i don't know, he was really strange."

"emperor aeternitas? from nearly two hundred years ago? what else do you remember about this mage, my lady?"

she presses her finger to her chin. "to tell you the truth, grandpapa, he was very pretty. like...really pretty."

athanasia's grandfather gives her a smile she has learnt to be vary of. "are you interested in this magician, my child? i don't mind extending an invitation for the pair of you to become better acquainted."

"grandpapa! when will you stop trying to become a matchmaker?"

duke robane sighs playfully. "i'm only thinking of your future, my lady. your debutante is not too far - you will need an escort to dance the night away with."

she pouts. "i can dance with you, grandpapa."

he chuckles, and the silence stretches until athanasia breaks it once more, murmuring a soft, "no."

"no?" her grandfather echoes, confused.

"that's a 7," she says, pointing towards the document he's been working on. "not 3, that was last time. grandpapa told me the border towns have a larger population now, so that needs to be factored in, doesn't it?"

duke robane studies the calculation, the surprise evident in his sharp features. "hm?...you're right, thank you."

she grins. "i've been working on my sums lately! aren't you proud of me, grandpapa?"

"always, sweet one. you're very smart to be at this level so young."

athanasia beams. "i mean, you taught me everything so it's almost like you're praising yourself, you know?" her grandfather laughs at that, the sound deep and familiar. "anyway, are these real gold? they're very pretty." she gestures towards a box of earrings resting on her grandfather's desk.

"they were your mother's," the duke tells her, feeling the girl stiffen. "i planned to give them to you at your return."

"they're very...siodonnan," she remarks almost awkwardly. "very pretty."

"she wanted you to have them. apparently they were a gift."

"oh."

he confirms with a slight chuckle, "they are gold, authentic. that fascinates you, doesn't it? you've always been quite taken with shiny things, ever since you were a child. your grandfather was like that too, athanasia."

"you're like that?"

the duke of house robane blinks in surprise once. then twice.

Xx

felix stares at the eleven year old in the emperor's bed. blonde hair spilled all over the pillows, her frail body hidden under the covers. how...?

he hadn't registered the passage of time at all. the emperor's index and middle fingers rest on athanasia's forehead, his own creased in concentration and annoyance. felix can't even help the fury building within himself.

"your majesty," he begins cautiously - claude has been a wild card ever since watching his daughter cough up blood at the breakfast table. the massacre everyone was on edge about eleven years ago at ruby palace would've been inevitable yesterday had athanasia's childhood friend - the mage - not arrived as early as he had. "you should rest."

claude's gaze turns to him dangerously. "do not tell me to rest when-"

the girl stirs uncomfortably, her eyes opening. she glances at felix before tugging on her father's sleeve weakly. "papa...?" tears prick at the corner of the young princess's eyes.

oh, that's right - felix remembers his father having the talk with the princess a few months ago. she had accepted the new information quietly, and rather quickly, to the both robane mens' surprise. the princess had started bringing her father flowers on her visits from then, and as if in return, claude had an entire garden in built where ruby palace would've been.

the emperor's hand returns to his daughter's forehead and she blinks sleepily a few times before drifting right back to sleep. the magic has long worn off - neither father nor daughter had flinched at the sight of her shimmering blue eyes. if anything, felix had seen claude's shoulders relax.

the emperor lets out a small sigh. "i will not be here when she wakes." he traces the soft collar of her purple nightgown. "and should she consent, see to it that athanasia moves into emerald palace by the end of the month. she has been fostered long enough."

oh, his father would definitely not like that.

Xx

"are you mad, papa?" athanasia asks, the sequins of her debutante dress glittering bright u der the lights of the hall..

"why would i be? did someone dare say something to y-"

she latches onto his arm before her father has a chance to finish. "no! nobody could dare offend me on my debut. especially when i have you by my side."

"then you do you ask?"

she plays with the intricate patterns on the arm of his outfit. "because i refused to move in with you? trust me, papa, i didn't mean to hurt you at all...i was only..." scared. it was at the debutante, wasn't it? when you chose jennette over the real athy.

"it was simply your choice," the emperor tells her flatly. "and i seem to recall you delaying it. not refusing."

athanasia laughs sheepishly. "that's right. i don't want to force myself into your life. i really love our time together though, papa."

her breath hitches as claude halts in his step. his hand raises to her jawline, thumb brushing against against her earrings. "where...? where did you..."

"papa? do you need to sit down?"

it does the trick, snapping her father out of whatever trance he had been under.

"won't you dance again? i'll be here," he encourages, and athanasia nods. she's shared one with her godfather, one with ezekiel alpheus...

"what are you doing here, your highness?" duke robane inquires, separating himself from his conversation partners.

"won't you dance with me, grandpapa?"

the duke can't help but smile at the way she addresses him. "you were escorted by his majesty, sweet one. why do you wish to spend your precious time with this lowly servant?"

"grandpapa!"

he sighs with a fond smile. "alright, alright. but even dancing with fathers is out of fashion nowadays, princess. and you're here, asking me?"

she frowns, unimpressed. "i think you don't want to dance because you're so tall. are you calling me unskilled?"

he gives her a charming smile. "how could i dare?"

"don't you remember, grandpapa? in your study?" she extends her hand with a familiar smirk, "i come from a family of knights, my lord. we are taught to honour our promises first and foremost."

and really, when has duke robane ever been able to refuse his granddaughter?

a/n: literally what is this. why is this. when i say i only meant to write a drabble-

but!! duke robane never hesitates in standing up for his granddaughter, even against the emperor! athy and found family!! honestly i love the dukes' conflict here - alpheus with jennette and robane with athy :)

claude and his subtle shade 🙃

lily and the robanes honoring their promise to diana and teaching athy both love and strength <3

the magic explosion thing happened much later, and with slightly different claude/athy dynamics - he certainly can't take her presence for granted, she doesn't doesn't even live with him yet (she wants to!! the insecurities around jennette are just acting up rn)

athy will have support during amnesia arc + ana's antics!!!