#I’d argue that’s also the loop where after it happened she stopped being so concerned about saving EVERYONE.
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holydramon · 9 months ago
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finished magia record and it sure was. an anime.
#it was ok. have some grievances but whatever.#honestly I saw someone say that the last 4 episodes were really bad but honestly?? i think they were fine. i think I had more fun watching#them compared to some of the other episodes. really don’t understand where that person was coming from.#like I guess you could argue it could have all been built up to better but like. that describes the whole show lol.#honestly biggest grievance is outside of gripes about how they seemed to have trouble devoting time to characters is just. that they somehow#managed to mess with the main pmmm lore. like HOW do even manage to do that the holy quintet isn’t even a huge part of this show.#but yeah they had glasses and braids homura think about the loop where she killed Madoka which??? HUH???#no it was after that loop that she snapped and completely dedicated herself to her goal. the loop right after is when she takes out her#braids and fixes her eyesight and shifts from trying to beat walpugisnacht with everyone to trying to prevent Madoka from contracting. hell#I’d argue that’s also the loop where after it happened she stopped being so concerned about saving EVERYONE.#i mean. the loop where she killed Madoka is also the one where Mami tries to pull the murder suicide thing (which I honestly forget myself#sometimes lol).#but yeah just. that loop was the final straw. it’s the loop where she promises Madoka to save her. it’s the loop where she learns she can’t#rely on anyone. why does glasses and braids homura remember it??? it shouldn’t have happened yet???#sorry lol i am just. passionate.#dramon thoughts
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caratmagic · 3 years ago
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—jung wooyoung—
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contains: arguing, pretty offensive words, explicit content
word count: 2.3k
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Enemy Territory 🌻chapter 4🌻
You hate that you find yourself dragging your feet slowly—yet quietly— to Wooyoung’s door. Hoping that the noises you hear from behind it aren’t those of pleasure.
There’s an exchange of them chatting, audible enough to hear but not enough to make out the words. As if snooping like this wasn’t enough, you press the shell of your ear against the door. Using the frame of it to steady your body from making any unnecessary movements or noise.
A rustle. Then several more. You think you hear the sheets move.
They’ve stopped talking.
More silence, then a loud thump onto the floor.
Your heart races out of your chest and you have a hard time picturing what could possibly be going on inside Wooyoung’s room.
Footsteps hurry to the door and before you could get more than halfway down the hall, Wooyoung’s body peeks out from behind his door.
“Snooping on me now?” He scoffs with that annoyingly charming sneer. “I thought we were supposed to stay out of each other’s business? Now look who’s breaking their own rules.”
You shut your eyes tightly while your back faces your ex.
Fuck.
A breath quickly fills your lungs as you turn around in efforts to compose your expressions. You’re somehow confused as to why he was suddenly wearing a shirt.
“I— I was just about to knock and ask you what type of meat you wanted to grill, you idiot.” Your mouth moves faster than your thoughts and you’re so glad that your brain was quick enough to pull something straight out of your ass. “I didn’t want to…  interrupt.”
Wooyoung holds the door open slightly for you to catch a small glimpse of the girl politely seated at the edge of his bed. Blinking curiously at you with a content smile on her face, although her tears still stain her cheeks. “It’s not even noon yet y/n, I’m smarter than that to start having rough sex knowing that you’re in the apartment.”
This thought somehow makes your stomach turn and not in a pleasant way. You didn't want to imagine Wooyoung like this with someone else. Yet, an image of him bare and in his sexual glory flashes across your mind and for a second you forget that you aren’t single. You forget that you have a neglectful boyfriend who likes to have sex with you once a week then proceeds to avoid you until the next weekend arrives.
Does Wooyoung have sex often when I’m not around? Did he have to use the word ‘rough’? Do they have rough sex together?—
Why was the thought of Wooyoung having sex with someone else more distressing to you than the entire problem of your boyfriend literally using you as a weekend booty call?
Not a single soul should know why, because the reality of it all is that: One, Wooyoung is single. And two, you are not.
So you had no right to be bothered about it.
Right?
“Uh. Right,” You subconsciously mess with the tips of your fingers to think of what to say next since you didn’t expect that his comment would throw your mind into a loop. “Just text me when you’ve, um, decided what you want. I’ll head to the store now since you’re busy… so you’ve got 20 minutes to make a choice.”
“No need to wait 20 minutes for me to text you, y/n,” Wooyoung slowly pulls his lips into a gentle smile. A smile that sets off a million bursts of fireworks through your chest. “You already know what kind of meat I like to grill.”
Instantly you blink away the feeling—or at least try to ignore it. “People change. Just wanted to ask in case you had a change in taste.”
Wooyoung presses his lips together before nodding his head slowly. Clearly catching your composure and deciding not to point it out due to the guest on his bed. “Uh, nope. My tastes are constant, y/n.”
The worst part of it all is, your conversation was being monitored by a ditsy flower, just waiting for Wooyoung to come back and take care of her… You hated it. Everything about this set up.
Now, heading out of the apartment to get groceries seemed like a much better idea to you than twiddling your thumbs to wait for Wooyoung’s pretty guest to leave.
“I’ll head out then.”
Upon grabbing your purse and your keys, you curse at yourself mentally for getting caught snooping. Even scolding your heart for causing your mind to lose control of your emotions.
************
It had only been half an hour since you left to get ingredients for the meal with Wooyoung, yet a familiar vehicle pulls into the apartment complex parking lot.
A few flights up and your boyfriend is back at the front of your door. Sure to himself that your car has left and that you’d be gone for a while.
San punches in the code of your apartment door. When it opens, a girl stands on the other side peering up at San with a shocked expression.
“Oh hey, It’s y/n boyfriend.” She smiles before turning to Wooyoung who, at the moment, keeps a straight face.
They had finally completed their 30 minute rant session, where she comes to him for help with her loneliness. Which was a topic to talk about for another time since Wooyoung felt like it wasn’t even his place to do it for her— also, considering he’s rejected her multiple times to be something more than her emotional support friend.
He never felt like a new relationship was something he needed.
As far as relationships are concerned, Wooyoung has enough on his plate to deal with considering the ugly truth he’s recently discovered. And of course, his unsettled feelings for his gorgeous ex.
“What are you doing back?” Wooyoung asks San, holding the door open for his emotionally unstable friend.
“Uh, coming to see my girlfriend??” San exchanges an offended glare at Wooyoung.
“Oh, I thought you already had your fill for her last night… What happened? Fell asleep before you could finish the job?” Wooyoung’s words are calm yet sharp like knives. Attacking San with precision as he tilts his head in accusation. “She’s out getting groceries.” He adds.
“You know,” San narrows his eyes, striding to level his face right in front of Wooyoung’s. “You have a lot of nerve thinking you can have any say in our relationship considering you’re her fucking ex.”
“We only broke up because I decided to switch colleges last minute without telling her.” Wooyoung doesn’t back down. He’s aware that his choice was the reason why the two of you broke up and that he should’ve told you sooner he wasn’t going to go to the same college as you guys had planned. “At least I never snuck out of bed after having sex with her.”
San scoffs at the gall. “Don’t act like you fucking know me.”
“I don’t.” Wooyoung shifts his weight and sticks his hands into his jean pockets. “But I know every part of y/n way better than you do. Every. Single. Part.”
San’s hand clenches into a fist and right before he draws it back to swing at Wooyoung. The girl awkwardly standing beside them in the threshold of the door raises her voice. “Hey, as much as I like the drama, I kind of have work so if I can just pass through…”
San doesn’t steer his eyes away from Wooyoung as he takes a step to the side for the girl to get around his body. Too peeved to realize that he was blocking the door.
“…I’ll see you later, Wooyoung. Thanks for helping me out again.” She waves before disappearing into the hall.
San huffs through his nose. It’s upsetting to him that Wooyoung doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by the situation. “Why aren’t you packing your shit? Isn’t this your last week?”
As if his train of thought derails, without even waiting for an answer to his own questions, San pushes past your ex and heads straight into your room.
Looking for what he left so recklessly before sneaking away that morning.
Wooyoung, with his hands still in his pockets, calmly follows San. Watching your boyfriend’s frantic search for whatever he’s misplaced.
Since Wooyoung respects your privacy, he stops right at the entrance of your room. “Did you wait for y/n to leave the apartment?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” San tosses a pillow off your bed. Not sparing a single glance at your ex.
“I don’t know,” Wooyoung leans against the door. “I mean, if I had something to hide, I guess I’d want to wait until she was gone too.”
San stops completely. His heart drops to his stomach when he turns to your ex standing in front of your room. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Wooyoung shrugs with a playful smirk etching onto his face as one of his hands pulls something out of his right pocket. “You tell me.”
There. What San was looking for.
His phone.
“Where did you find that!?” San yells as he practically dives for it.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Wooyoung shoves it back into his pocket. Placing his hand in front of himself defensively. “Question is, why are you so upset?”
San swallows and processes quickly before clearing his throat. He couldn’t understand why his palms were so sweaty. “It’s—Because it’s fucking mine! Hand it over!”
Wooyoung shakes his head, angling his body away from your boyfriend. “It can’t be yours.”
“Are you fucking mad?” San yells again. Smacking Wooyoung’s arm away from the position he’s guarding his pocket. “Of course, it is. It’s my phone!”
“No, no, no.” Wooyoung’s stupid, playful smile begins to boil hate into San’s veins. “This can’t be your phone.”
“I’ll drop kick that fucking smile off your face, you son of a bitch, give me back my phone!”
“Dude,” Wooyoung chuckles, loving how riled up your shitty boyfriend is getting. “I swear this phone has got to be someone else’s… because when I saw it on the couch, ringing at 4 am, someone named Eunji was calling to ask if her ‘daddy’ was still going to—and I’ll quote her on this, “Rearrange my guts like you always do on Saturday nights.” And you're telling me you’re certain that this is your phone?”
The reality settles into the air and San realizes that he’s been caught cheating on you… by your ex.
This is when Wooyoung’s twisted smirk turns into an angry scowl. He’s disgusted that you found a man so indisputably vile and unloyal.
“You really think you’ll get away with this? Lying to y/n like this and fucking her once every week just to make up for how shitty a person you are?”
San’s gaze falters to the floor and he snatches his phone from the unguarded pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans. “What are you gonna do, huh? Tattle-tail on me?” He shoves it into his back pocket, scoffing. “She’ll never believe you. She hates you.”
“Even if she does,” Wooyoung turns on his heels and enters into his room across the hall. “She’ll wish you were dead after figuring out that you leave her in the mornings just to be in some other woman’s bed the very same night.”
San follows Wooyoung a few steps into the hall. “You wouldn’t dare tell her.” He spits.
An exasperated sigh paired with the front door swinging open, startles the two men away from glaring at one another.
*********
After 30 minutes of shopping, you head home.
The entire time in the parking lot, you were gathering the courage to talk yourself into confidently walking back into your house. 
So what if he was having sex? You have sex all the time with San while Wooyoung stays in the room across the hall from yours.
How is coming back home knowing that he’s having fun with a woman be any different?
Equality at its best example for it. You remind yourself as you exit the elevator.
To your dismay, You were unpleasantly greeted by a very voluptuous woman with intruding questions as to why you were going to enter into her boyfriend’s home.
You push past the nuisance at your front door. Sighing as you lazily drop the groceries onto the floor.
You can only assume that this other girl— an entirely different girl compared to the one from this morning—is Wooyoung's little problem.
This boy must be cheating… What a waste. “Taste’s are constant” my ass.
You pray that Wooyoung’s ditsy girl toy from earlier this morning has left.  Though you liked witnessing drama, you didn’t want to see two girls fight over your ex. “Wooyoung? I think you have a guest.” You call out as you take off your shoes.
To your surprise, Your boyfriend is staring at you from the hallway— eyes wide and stunned.
Wooyoung steps out of his room to stand in the hall next to San. A flat smile sets on his features as he stares at you and eunji. “I won’t need to…” He seems to be talking to San when he speaks. “Next time, set a better password on your phone. You never know who’ll scroll through your messages and send people your girlfriend’s address.”
This confuses you. Immensely. More so, when San’s face drains of all color.
“Baby! Who the hell is this girl?” Miss voluptuous checks your shoulder as she rushes past you. Headed towards Wooyoung with her arms stretched out.
What rattles your world from it’s axis isn’t that Wooyoung doesn’t hold her, it’s that the girl doesn’t even look at him. She doesn’t even acknowledge that Wooyoung’s standing there.
Instead,
She’s all over your boyfriend. Calling him “baby’ and glaring at you as if you were nothing more than a disgusting insect.
No, no… I must be dreaming.
“Sannie, who the hell is this girl and why is she coming into your apartment?”
[ chapter 5 >> ] 
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kookiepredictions · 3 years ago
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Jungkook Twin Flame Reading
A little post in honour of Jungkook’s birthday after which I’ll be taking a break :)
 Jungkook Twin Flame Reading
 The relationship dynamic between Jungkook and his TF is so interesting to me. To say that they are made for each other is a huge understatement. If human beings have several layers and levels to their being, then it is safe to say that Jungkook and his TF are compatible at every level; that’s how “destined” they are. Even if you take away the spiritual aspect of their connection and just focus on the earthly, physical dimension, they are the type of people who would be instantly drawn to each other. It’s not enough said that they are each other’s type. They could walk into a room full of people and instantly pick the other. Each has the physical appearance that the other finds attractive, the personality that the other admires, and their overall goals and ambitions in life too are very compatible. Whether they hit each other up at the bar, met in a park, hooked up on Tinder, or had an arranged marriage, it doesn’t matter— they would end up together. It’s like in the movie ‘The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, where the protagonists erase each other’s memories repeatedly but still end up falling in love every time they meet again. Now you would say, how nice for them, that must make their TF journey so much easier than others’, but (very) interestingly, no, it makes it just the more difficult.
Since they are so obviously compatible, picking each other is an obvious option. It’s like, I don’t need to be divinely guided to pick you; I’d do it anyway. And this is what makes the connection so confusing because there are literally 2 Levels in this connection: 1, where they can just be together as partners or spouses or whatever other earthly relationship term they want to subscribe to, and 2, where they can show up as the Divine Masculine and Feminine and hence have a higher dimensional connection. The difference between these 2 options is that the 1st, while not terrible, would be a mere earthly connection wherein both operate from their wounded selves and therefore their love has conditions, projections, and therefore hurts and problems. This type of relationships is not very uncommon to find and one might even argue that what’s so bad with that? Every relationship has problems. That’s normal. But then I urge you to ask yourselves, is it normal or it is normalized? Also, it might be commonly seen, but with their potential to be Twin Flames, Jungkook and his DF are not here to have a “normal” connection. And they are definitely not here to subscribe to the normalized version of love as it exists in the world right now. As TF counterparts, they have been given a choice to opt for more, also known in the TF community as creating new relationship templates. This is why I had mentioned in one of my previous posts that simply being born and then meeting your TF counterpart does not automatically make you each other’s Twin Flames— it only makes you “potential” TFs. It’s only when you show up as your most authentic or Divine self that you are actually “being” TFs. This is not a very simple phenomenon to understand and a lot of times, TF counterparts meet each other and are caught up in the earthly, or lower chakra attraction that they feel for each other. This looks like intense sexual attraction, daydreaming and overthinking about each other, and being almost addicted to each other. Is this a very bad thing? No, definitely not. Understand that the lower chakras represent our earthly existence and as such, all experiences stemming from them ground us onto that aspect of life and done right, it’s a beautiful experience. Also, one thing I disagree with a lot of people about is that the TF connection is not romantic. Oh but it is! The TF connection is not a fairytale. Heck yeah it is! But I also understand where they are coming from. I think the problem is in the way the words “romance” and “fairytale” are perceived these days. I don’t know about you, but fairytales to me are all about boy meets girl, fall in love, want to be together but problems arise, misunderstandings happen, third parties interfere, sorrows and tears, breakthrough, problem-solving, maybe even some fights, songs and dances, and finally, union. This don’t look like the TF connection to you? Of course, the TF journey is not so oversimplified, linear or one-dimensional, and doesn’t end in like 1 ½ hours. But that’s still the gist though. As for romance, again, I earnestly think the meaning of romance is so skewed right now, it makes me sad. As far as I have lived (and loved), romance has never been just about wining and dining, flowers and chocolates, singing and dancing (although they are a part of that and a very fun one at that). For me, the TF connection is romance at its peak. If romance is defined as the expression of love and affection, then there can be absolutely nothing more romantic than a person who would stop at NOTHING to be with you, to the point that they would take an axe and strike down their own ego, burn and destroy themselves over and over again to be their most authentic self because they see you and think, you’re worth it. So many people in the world right now would rather replace you with someone else simply because they are too proud to look into themselves and heal their wounds that are stopping them from experiencing true love, and continue living with their masks on. Masked people bringing flowers and diamonds and basically everything else other than their heart has never been a romantic notion for me. But yes, the skewed definition of romance these days does not accommodate such depth of the emotion and expression of love, so it’s limited to being perceived (and executed) as materialistic and surface-level exhibition.
TFs, upon meeting each other for the first time, experience all of these earthly tendencies. In itself, it’s not a bad thing at all. It’s sweet, spicy and exciting because seldom do you find a person that gets your heart racing like that. The “relationship” too, seems within your reach. But just when you reach out for them, the tower moments happen. This is when TFs realize that there is much more than what appears on the surface and you got to dig deeper. With Jungkook and his DF, it just was even more confusing because them being so compatible and an “obvious choice” for each other, the delays and the “ifs” and “buts” just did not make sense. This was especially Jungkook’s energy where he was more focused on the earthly manifestation of this connection because that’s what made sense to him— boy meets girl, fall in love, together bam! (Lol I had to make that joke cuz it’s a special day). He was also focused more on the external manifestations of problems in the connection, for example, he would think, I cannot be with the DF because of X, Y, Z. But the TF journey, like any other spiritual journey, will always teach you to look inward. Any problem and situation in life is always the external manifestation of something that is wrong inside, and therefore that’s where all solutions lie. On the other hand, as DFs are usually initiated into the spiritual journey first and are more concerned with that aspect of the connection (explained in detail in a previous post), his DF kept running away from him because Jungkook’s state of mind was not supportive of her spiritual quests. It’s important to understand that neither of them was consciously doing this; both did what they did because that’s what made sense to them at their level of healing. As the “lead” in this journey though, somehow it all started with the DF. She felt the call to opt for that higher dimension in their connection and to move away from him when he wasn’t in the ready state to even understand, let alone, support that spiritual aspect, which is what is known as the Separation— the part where both parties need to focus on their own healing. However, it’s one thing to know what to do, and quite another to embody that knowledge and act on it with the trust that everything will ultimately work out. So for a while, she too was caught up in her lower dimensional cravings. It’s safe to say that just like Jungkook, she was terrified of losing him because like I said, even in a non-TF way, they seemed so perfect for each other, you just do not want to miss the chance to at least give it a shot. But her soul would be tugging at her to complete the tasks that she had undertaken prior to incarnation, in other words, her soul contract, so she wouldn’t be able to be fully present in this connection either. And so she would do this thing where she would take a step forward towards her destiny and then look back at Jungkook where he was in his journey to see if he would join her. Repeatedly. But this connection IS about your soul journey, her indecision and mental to and fro would energetically keep Jungkook in an indecisive and back and forth state too. It’s like everytime she would look back to see if she was making a mistake, Jungkook would look back to see if he was making a mistake. This was keeping him attached to his karmic situations, which would then drain him, which would make him want his DF more to fill him up, which would create energy drainage for the DF which would ultimately repel the DF and she would want to run far, far away from him. This pushing him away in turn would hurt and confuse Jungkook and he would start doubting the connection and his self worth and start thinking that he doesn’t deserve her and that she is staying away from him because she isn’t interested in him and it’s all in his head, and so he would think of walking away from her before she leaves him. This is the push and pull dynamic in this connection and this was the loop that they were stuck in for a while.
Over time though, his DF has been inching closer and closer to her destined path, trying to find faith in herself, in the connection and in Jungkook and has been looking back less. Recognizing her role as the lead, she has had to make the difficult decision to solely focus on herself and put Jungkook out of her mind— a “whatever happens, happens, I’m not abandoning myself for anyone anymore” kind of a decision. This has been difficult for her because she has always naturally been someone who puts other people’s needs before her own. When she likes someone, it has always made sense for her to almost sacrifice all her needs and wants for the other person’s. However, this energy has never been reciprocated to her in her previous connections, and her life would always eventually turn out to be one where her needs were always in the backburner. As I had said in a previous post, when she first meets Jungkook, the way he treated her was quite different from others. While other men would make these big show of love while ignoring the smallest, most basic things about her, Jungkook was observant of the little subtle things about her and more importantly, always willing and even seeking to do things that felt tailormade for her. While other people made their moves with agenda, Jungkook had this energy of just vibing in the moment, doing little things, making her smile. It was like he had even forgotten to set a purpose or intention of interacting with her; he just did what he did because it made him so happy. This caused her to put down her guard and a connection was made. However, this connection, or specifically, the happiness and bliss in the connection did not last long because both were interacting from a co-dependent place— they were both doing things trying to seek happiness from the other, to fill an empty void in themselves. But as I discussed earlier, when you seek something outside of yourself, it is never enough because that void can only be filled by you. So, what started as a beautiful and fun connection started morphing into a confusing, draining and hurtful one. This was very the signal to start levelling up into a higher dimension of the connection— the connection in itself wasn’t wrong; it was just that it was established in a lower, 3D dimension that was keeping it embroiled in pain and struggle. The DF was the first to recognize this and felt it in her heart to first, individually level up. But as said earlier, she was constantly looking back in doubt, afraid she might just lose him, which, true to the TF connection, kept Jungkook stuck in a fear of losing her. When Jungkook is stuck in the energy of this fear for long enough, external problems would manifest to reflect and amplify that fear, which then, as I said, would make him want to leave her first before she could leave him, because he felt that he loved her too much to ever be able to bear the pain of his heart being broken by her.
In present times, his DF has been a lot more confident in herself and in this connection. This has happened because she has spent considerable amount of time healing her trauma patterns which has immensely increased her faith in the Divine and she is able to see this connection clearly, not just from a knowledge point of view, but also from a deep feeling. In the past, she was stuck in the confusion of “if he is right for me, then how does it make sense to leave him behind?”, the same confusion that Jungkook had. But then again, when she stayed behind, there would be all these differences of opinions between them and problems and hurt would ensue. Both saw each other as their destination and yet, the path each proposed to take was different. Jungkook took the more rational, practical path while his DF was inclined to the more spiritual, “listen to the Divine, have faith and let go” path. Incidentally, the spiritual path is not irrational either. The real, practical problems in their connection did not go unnoticed by the DF. She noticed the co-dependency, the fact that she was constantly putting her own needs behind to try to address his needs and also the fact that even after that, Jungkook was still stuck in fear, doubt, confusion and misery. But more than anything else, she saw the once-beautiful connection deteriorate every day. This was painful to her because from the moment she saw Jungkook, as an intuitive and foresighted woman, she knew he was the one, and that this would be a beautiful and fulfilling connection, and the start had even been that way. The intense attraction, waiting for each other everyday, daydreaming when they were alone, every love song finally making sense— stuff straight out of a movie or a romance novel. But this reality kept slipping off, and it hurt her to see it all go down the drain. So when she realized that this connection needed to be anchored to a higher frequency, she had to make the choice of walking away from him to work on herself. She knew that she wasn’t being her most authentic, divine self, and as such, wouldn’t be able to create an authentic and divine connection. While in the past she was afraid of being judged by him for the choices and decisions she made, more recently she has stepped into the confidence that living her life from her heart is not something she should ever be afraid of, and if Jungkook is the divinely destined partner that she thought he was, he would never stand in the way of her living a life that made her happy. She also knew that unless she heals herself from her own trauma and wounds, she would not be able to love him right either. She isn’t perfect and in the past she has done many a hurtful things to people she loved and she is afraid unhealed, she would do the same to Jungkook. In this energy, she foresees the connection to become riddled with problems and trauma bonding and she would rather leave him and this connection right this instant where it is still relatively peaceful, than create a reality where they hurt each other that much. It’s funny that in her past relationships, whenever she hurt her partner, she would feel guilty for behaving that way more because she feels it was beneath who she is, but on hindsight she will be like, well they still deserved it for being complete jerks to me. But with Jungkook, she feels like she wouldn’t be able to ever willingly hurt him because she believes he doesn’t deserve to ever be treated that way, so it could only mean that in such a state, she would only hurt herself each time and she didn’t want that for herself either, so she feels like she’d rather stay away from him and the connection than cause all that. This is similar to how Jungkook feels about her as well, which is why no matter how tough it gets for him to go on without her, he always reminds himself that he couldn’t possibly with her until he became capable enough to give her all the happiness that she deserves, so that’s where they would mirror each other. And yet, everytime he feels empty, he wants to reach out to her. However, as the DF has started becoming confident in the connection, and stopped looking back in doubt, Jungkook has been feeling confident too. The more she heals, he heals. Now, they are both on their adventures of finding themselves while still recognizing the presence and impact of this connection in their lives. I think they’ve both realized that trying to escape this connection is a lost war. Instead they are embracing it and letting it guide them while still learning to put themselves first. Even after all the doubts and fears, their destination still remains the same, and the path seems to be aligning as well because they are both trying to meet each other halfway. Will there be anymore problems, confusion, doubts, fears, anger, frustration? Maybe, maybe not. But like I always say, that’s not the point of life at all. Nor is that the point of relationships. Problems might still arise but unlike in the past, they won’t be swept into co-dependency. The DF has learnt to listen to her heart every time, even if Jungkook does not agree with her and will address Jungkook’s needs only when she has ensured that her own needs are met first. In return, Jungkook has learnt to trust that his DF’s path will never be separate from his— time and time again, he has seen his DF return to him, never ceasing to love him and he has learnt to trust more in the Divine to give him what he believes belongs to him. Soon enough, they will be whole, complete and happy enough on their own accord and this will create a harmonious and blissful interdependent connection between them with the earthly intense attraction as well as the divine peaceful stability.
Just to avoid an abrupt end, let me share one of my favourite quotes that aptly defines this journey (except add “vice versa”):
“A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.”
― Maya Angelou
 Happy 24th birthday Jungkook, I hope you always know and remember that you are well loved, not because the person or the people who love you are good people, but because you deserve to be loved always. What is yours will never pass you by and what you seek, seeks you I promise. You will see, in time. Every single thing in this connection and in this journey might not make sense and it might seem long and dragged out, but if you want the other person to consider your needs, you must consider theirs too. That is true love. And it is yours. You’ve worked for it and you’ve earned it. Your DF wants you as much as you want her. But she won’t give herself to you unless she deems herself as someone you deserve and you deserve the best. She knows you already think she’s perfect but she also knows that you have the biggest, the kindest and the most accommodating heart and you would never make anyone feel lesser than. But she’s adamant lol. She says, Jungkook deserves the best and he will have the best. Please allow her the time and space to do this not just for you but also for herself— allow her to heal her insecurities so she never feels small and insignificant anywhere she goes. Don’t forget that your destination is the same. Allow her to take a different path once in a while if she so pleases, and don’t be afraid to do the same. Do what YOU want to do and what is best for you. Always. If it hurts her ego, best believe that it is HER problem to take care of. If you are meant to be, mistakes and slip ups will never get in the way of that. If you are meant to be, neither of you should ever have to hide any part of yourselves. Trust that being your most authentic selves, no matter how odd, shameful and unforgiving it might seem to you, will always bring you closer. That’s just what unconditional love is. That’s what you are divinely created to have. If you have to hide, pretend and suppress any part of you to please the other, it’s just not love, and believe you me, your connection won’t last that way. I know it’s scary, to show those parts of yourself to another, parts that even you haven’t been able to accept, embrace or forgive, then how are they going to do that? She knows and she fears the same about herself. But know that you both have to show up as who you are, otherwise this connection remains a daydream and an illusion, the bubble of which will burst sooner or later. You both have been given the opportunity to create something that is not just missing but is needed in this world right now. Take it and make the best out of it. At the end of your lives, as you sit on your porch, watching the sunset together, you will get to look back in triumph and gratitude for one hell of an adventure. Happy birthday once again! May this day be the start to the best, happiest, most fun, most exciting, most exotic, most peaceful, most authentic and most soul-ly fulfilling life you have ever wanted.
 P.S. I really wanted to make a small and compact post but for some reason I rambled on and also I feel so tired after this I want to go to sleep immediately. I don’t have the energy to see what I’ve written anymore so I hope it all made sense. See you after my break! PPS. :) :) :)
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word-scribbless · 4 years ago
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Worry
request: Can you do an Adam Ruzek X Reader imagine where the reader works in intellegence and faints cause she is over stressed, dehydrated and scared cause Adam is undercover. Adam finds out about this and takes care of her?❤ @fullwattpadmusictree
Masterlist
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Suddenly the whole world was dark. You could hear muffled noises and feel people moving around you but didn’t know what was going on. You remember being at work, talking to Voight. So why did it feel like you were waking up from a really awful sleep in a room full of people.
“Y/N/N wake up, come on newbie. Don’t make me call Adam and tell him you passed out.” You heard Kevin’s deep voice.
‘Passed out? Shit’ you thought as you replayed his words.
At the thought of Adam, everything came rushing back.
Adam was working undercover, had been for the past 3 weeks. You hadn’t heard from him or seen him. You only knew he was okay from the cryptic texts he sent Voight every other day. This wasn’t new to you in your 3 and a half year relationship, this time felt different though.
You hadn’t been eating or sleeping well. Everyone saw how much this affected you. Voight tried to keep you as in the loop as possible. He knew you were usually such a trooper when Ruzek was undercover. Always optimistic and supportive. This time was different however, and he didn’t know why.
No one but you knew why this one was so hard. Adam Ruzek has proposed to you one beautiful night just over a month ago. You hadn’t told anyone because the next day he found out about this undercover assignment. You knew this one would be rough, but wanted to support Adam anyway you could.
He knew that you were engaged before and that your fiancé was killed but he didn’t know the full story.
He didn’t know that your fiancé was you partner at NYPD and that he was killed only a few weeks after proposing. You usually weren’t superstitious, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were cursed. And if you were that might mean Adam would never come home to you.
As much as you knew this was silly and tried to push it away, it ate at you until you were a nervous wreck. You’d been trying to hide it but knew after this you’d have to come clean.
You could hear but not talk or move just yet.
“Should we get in touch with Ruzek? Try to pull him out?”
‘No!’ You tried to yell, but nothing came out.
“I was anyway, this is clearly too much for Y/N. He was supposed to be done next week regardless, and it’s only an intell mission we’ll just take what we’ve got now.” Voight rasped out , and you heard his worried tone.
“No” you tried yelling again. Everyone stopped and turned to you. Apparently it worked this time, it had come out as a whisper, but still, they heard you. You blinked your eyes open and saw Haley’s hand in yours.
“Don’t pull him boss, I’ll be okay. I just haven’t been eating like I should.” You whispered.
“Too late Y/N/N, orders were sent this morning, your boy is coming home”
You cried In relief, but also embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Voight I promised you our relationship wouldn’t mess with work and I let it I’m so sorry!” You were now sobbing.
Voight knelt down and scooped you up in his arms. Since you transferred to intelegence 5 years ago, Voight had been like a father to you.
“Y/N sweetheart, it is not your fault. Something is clearly wrong and that’s alright, you just need to tell me what it is. I should have pulled him sooner, this, this not eating and worrying yourself to fainting isn’t like you. What’s going on?”
You opened your mouth reluctantly to explain when the bullpen door flew open. A frazzled, and scruffy Adam, straight from his undercover op.
“Where is she?” He boomed before spotting her on the floor crying in Voight’s arms. Kevin has texted Jay that Y/N fainted and Adam had read the text as Jay was driving.
“Baby what happened?”
“I’m okay”
“ I know when you’re lying.”
“She fainted” Voight said and you winced as the worried look on Adams face as he took you in his arms.
“You haven’t been eating enough again! This is my fault I knew I should have stayed with you! I shouldn’t have left right after giving you this.” He said, pulling the chain with the engagement ring out from under your shirt. Eeveryone but Voight had left the bull pen to follow a lead, or give you space, you weren’t quite sure. The three of you were all still sat on the floor.
You heard Voight take a breath.
“Y/N you should have told me. I would have picked someone else.” Voight said and you Winced again at his worried tone.
“We were going to tell you but you told us about the op the next day” you sniffled, knowing he was connecting the dots. He knew about Kyle and how and when he was killed.
“Y/N what happened to Kyle wasn’t because he proposed”
It clicked in Adam’s head now too and he held you tighter.
“He was killed right after he proposed?” He breathed causing you to nod.
“1 month later, on an undercover op.”
“Oh baby. I’m so sorry!”
“I know it’s dumb but my brain-“
“It’s not dumb y/n but you need to take care of yourself.” Adam breathed out as he kissed your head.
“ I ruined the op.” You cried.
“You didn’t” Adam said shaking his head.
“I let us get in the way of the job”
“You didn’t Y/L/N” Voight agreed.
“I got everything we need I was going to give the go ahead to end the op tomorrow.” Adam assured you.
“But I would have pulled him weeks ago if I’d known it’d help!”
“ I broke the pro-“ you started
“I’m not going to fault you for caring y/n, or worrying yourself sick, however I’ll be pissed of you ever do it again. I knew when I approved of your relationship each of you were going to get over emotional at least once. You held out for a long time.” Voight laughed.
“He held out longer” You said nodding to Adam, causing him to hang is head and Voight to smirk.
“Your boy lasted a week.”
“What?” You laughed.
“He almost knocked out a uniform throwing his vest to go get you from talking down Haber on that hostage call 6 days after you came clean about your relationship.”
“You never told me that!” You said raising your head from Adams chest to look at him.
“Yeah and I wasn’t going to.” He threw a half teasing glance at Voight.
“Hey! No secrets remember?”
you said, lifting up the ring attached to the chain on your neck.
“It wasn’t a secret��� he scoffed as he unclasped the chain, taking the ring in his fingers. “I just didn’t want you to think I was lame, then I forgot about it on purpose and hoped it’s go away.” He laughed.
“Still want this?” He asked with a joking tone, but you could still hear his concern,
“I will always and forever want that, and all that comes with it” you smiled, holding out your hand for him to slide it back on. You pulled him down for a kiss, not noticing Voight slip out with a smile on his face.
“Let’s get you checked at med and then home to rest.” Adam said softly, as he helped you up.
“Bu-“ you started to argue.
“Nope I’m not negotiating on Med but when we get home I’ll cook you some Mac and cheese and you can pick a movie.”
“Can I have snuggles?”
“Duh!”
You nodded and let yourself be led to his car.
You stopped on the top step and said “promise me this won’t stop you from doing your job, even the undercover stuff. He sighed but nodded, knowing you’d never forgive yourself if he changed how he worked because of you.
“ONLY if you promise me you’ll tell me if you EVER feel like this again, and if I’m away you tell voight.”
“Promise! Now take me to med so I can get home to my snuggles! I missed you!” You smiled
He leaned down to kiss her again. “I missed you too baby.”
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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago
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Never Give Up On A Miracle by SisterSpooky1013
12,864 words / Read it Here on AO3
X Files Missing Scene Fanfic Exchange gift to @night-of-cydonia , tagging @today-in-fic
Prompt: what happened after the flashbacks in Per Manum, from Mulder’s perspective?
It had been hours. Or it felt like it had been hours, anyway. He craned his neck to see the time on the microwave; 3:15. Her appointment was at 1:00, she should be back by now. He considered calling her, but maybe she wanted to be alone. Maybe it was bad news again. He shifted around a bit to get more comfortable on her small couch, thought about lying down in her bed but decided against it. Thought about digging through her fridge for something to eat, but decided against that, too. If Scully was devastated right now, if the last embryo transfer didn’t work, he had no right to physical comfort or nourishment. So he laid there and waited.
When she’d first asked him to be her sperm donor, he was so shocked he couldn’t speak. That turned out to be a good thing, because she insisted that he not answer right away; she wanted him to take some time to think it over, not go with whatever response came to him readily. He wasn’t sure if she was worried that a too-fast response would be a yes or a no; was she afraid he’d regret saying yes? Or was she worried that he’d say no, but might have said yes if he’d had more time to think? It didn’t matter, his immediate answer was yes, and his answer the next day when he stopped by her apartment was yes, and each and every time he saw her, or thought about it, or went to the clinic for his “deposit,” his mind screamed yes. Yes, I want to father your child. Yes, I want to be tied to you forever. Yes, I want to argue over whether or not they can play contact sports or date when they’re 15 and whether we’re willing to pay out of state tuition for college. Yes, I want it all, with you. He didn’t really know if any of that was available to him; maybe she just wanted his sperm and nothing more. But whatever it was, however little or much she wanted from him and with him, the answer when it came to Scully was always yes.
When he’d come by her apartment to give her his answer, there was so much he’d wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he needed her to be in his life always, that whether she decided to quit the FBI or transfer back to Quantico, or something else entirely, that he would be by her side. He’d tried to say all those things, but what came out was “I wouldn’t want this to come between us,” which he realized too late sounded like he was softening a “no.” The look on her face was a punch to the gut; the gentle quiver in her chin that she recovered from quickly, her rush to assure him that it was okay, that she understood. All the profound things he’d wanted to confess fell out of his head and the only thing he could muster was that the answer was yes. Watching the realization dawn on her, the relief flooding her body, the joy that tugged at the corners of her mouth, felt like magic. That he could make her that happy was something he’d only dreamed of. She’d hugged him so tightly, and he smiled against her hair, smelling her shampoo. For as much pain and suffering as he’d brought into her life, he could do this for her. It didn’t make up for all the rest, but it was something.
He’d had a lot of questions about how the procedure worked, but he didn’t want to burden her with explaining it so he did his own research, learning about all the hormones she’d have to inject herself with to prepare her body and the affects they would have on her, and the need for precise timing of when they transferred the embryo into her uterus.
The embryo.
It was a medical term, but in a literal sense it was the combination of their DNA. Half of her and half of him, duplicating and developing into what had the potential to become a baby. It got them ¾ of the way to pregnant; all the embryo had to do was attach to her uterine lining. It just had to stick around. The statistics said there was a 60% chance, generally speaking, but that didn’t necessarily take into account the damage done to her ova under cryo storage, much less the damage done to her body during her abduction; he doubted the medical community had data on how those factors affected her odds.
The first transfer he was mostly out of the loop on. Scully told him when to go in and provide his sperm sample, and that was it. He observed her mood swings and irritability and inferred they were side effects from the hormones, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to be intrusive and wasn’t sure what his role was. He wanted to know everything, but he didn’t think he had a right to. One day, a couple weeks after he’d spent some quality time in the donation room, she’d been flipping through some documents in the office when she got a paper cut. What started with an expletive quickly devolved into sobbing and he was confused, and worried, and a little bit scared. He went to her, gently placing a hand on her back, and she shook her head as if to say “it’s nothing, I’m fine.” He crouched down beside her, trying to see her face, but she hid it in her hands.
“Is it…is it the hormones?” He’d asked tentatively.
She’d looked at him then, her eyes bloodshot and wet, and shook her head again.
“It didn’t take,” she squeaked out between shuddering breaths. “I went in for a pregnancy test yesterday. It didn’t work.”
He’d moved closer, kneeling on the floor beside her chair, and enveloped her in a tight hug, stroking her back as he whispered in her ear reassuringly.
“It’s okay, Scully. We can try again, right?”
She’d nodded, but didn’t speak, her arms wrapped around his neck with a strangling grip. After a time, the sobs that racked her tiny frame subsided and she sniffled, relaxing a little. He took a chance at humor, wanting to bring some levity to the moment.
“That one just wasn’t the one, Scully. It was probably the next Jeffrey Dahmer or something.”
She snuffed a small laugh, pulling back to look at him. The pain in her eyes gripped at his heart and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his own emotions from spilling over.
“Why didn’t you tell me when the transfer was, or when you were taking a test?” He asked, hoping that his tone conveyed care and concern, not irritation.
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be that involved. I didn’t want you to feel obligated I guess.”
He picked up one of her hands from her lap and held it between both of his.
“I want to be as involved as you’ll allow me to be. It’s your decision, but I’d like to know where you’re at in the process, if I can. Did more than one zygote make it to embryo stage? Did they freeze any?” His knees ached from kneeling on the floor but he didn’t want to lose this moment where she seemed to be opening up to him.
The corner of her mouth quirked and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Yes, there were three embryos resulting from fertilization. They transferred one, and the other two are in cold storage. How do you know so much about this, Mulder?”
He gave her a shy smile and shrugged.
“Well I wanted to know what was going to happen to my… my genetic material, so I did a little research.”
Her mouth screwed up in attempt to hide her smile. It was an expression he knew well.
“I promise I’ll let you know for the next one” she finally said, putting her other hand on top of his and squeezing.
She was good to her word, letting him know when she started her period, and that the next transfer would be about 15 days later. She’d even jokingly asked him how his donation appointment went and then laughed at him as his face turned beet red, assuring him it wasn’t a question she expected him to answer. When she snapped at him for something mundane, she apologized and explained that the hormones she was taking to prepare her uterine lining for the embryo transfer made her irritable. On the day of the transfer, she wouldn’t let him go with her but she did let him bring her dinner afterward, and then pretended not to mind that he treated her like she was made of glass until the day she could take a test. Being included in the anticipation and build up was amazing, and he found himself daydreaming about what a child of theirs would look like, how cute Scully would look with a little belly. It also made it that much harder when she called him to say that it didn’t take again. He asked if he could come over, but she insisted that she wanted to be alone. He sat in his empty apartment as the weight of disappointment settled on his shoulders, and he realized how much he had wanted it. Not just for Scully, he’d wanted it for him. He wanted to be a father, wanted to share a child with her. He’d never had strong feelings either way about parenthood, and now he could see that was because he’d never known anyone he wanted to be a parent WITH. Now that he had glimpsed what having a child with Scully might be like, he wanted it more than just about anything. A few quiet tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them away before grabbing his gym bag and heading out to shoot some hoops.
They’d had three eggs that fertilized, three chances, and that was it. There were no more viable eggs. The third cycle felt different, less anticipatory and more desperate. She kept him in the loop, but they were both on edge the whole time. After the transfer, she took a day off to relax, hopefully increase her odds, and he brought her lunch and smiled through his anxiety while they talked about everything except what they were both thinking about. He wanted it to work, so badly, but there was nothing he could do to affect the outcome. It felt incredibly helpless, standing by while she overanalyzed every twinge in her belly, wondering if it meant something. Over lunch the day before she went in for her test, he gently asked if he could come with her, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. It was news that he was just as invested in as she was, even though he worked hard to hide it. The last thing he wanted to do was add his own emotional needs to her overloaded plate; she should only be worrying about herself, not him. She declined, but compromised on letting him wait for her at her apartment, so he’d know as soon as she got home, and so he could be with her either way.
So here he was, waiting. The delay in her return told him he should prepare for bad news, but the mind is a fickle thing and he was still dreaming of a positive. He envisioned a daughter, a tiny thing with red hair and blue eyes. Basically a pint sized version of Scully, freckles and all. She’d be wicked smart, of course, and curious as hell. He wondered if Scully would want to name her after one of their sisters, maybe both. Would she want the baby to have his last name? It would be her choice, but the idea of another Samantha Mulder having a chance in the world made him smile as a lump formed in his throat. At some point he drifted off, visions of tossing a toddler in the air while Scully looked on with a smile dancing behind his eyelids.
It was the thunk of the deadbolt that woke him. He jolted upright, orienting himself to space and time, rushing quickly to the realization that he was about to learn his fate. Standing, he spoke.
“Scully? I must have dozed off, I was waiting for you to get back.”
One look at her face was enough. He felt his stomach lurch. He tried to find words as his heart quickened, searching for a sign one way or the other, grasping at hope. But he knew. She walked towards him slowly, her chin puckered and her eyes wet. It was bad news.
“It didn’t take, did it?”
“I guess it was too much to hope for,” her voice was strained around the fresh tears that pooled in her eyes.
He felt his heart break. He’d hurt many times, for many reasons. He’d worried over Scully countless times. He’d cried for her, and with her. He’d grieved for his sister for the majority of his life. But this hurt was different. This was the woman he loved more than life itself telling him that her dreams of being a mother were over. It was the end of a road, the slam of a door, the handful of dirt tossed on a coffin containing hope. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hiding his own pained expression in her hair, rocking her back and forth gently.
“It was my last chance” she keened into his ear, and he pulled a deep breath in through is nose to ward off his own tears. He needed to be strong for her. She could not bear the weight of his own grief on top of hers. He held her tighter. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady his breath, swallowing the lump in his throat until he thought he could speak without crying. Pulling away from her slightly, he kissed her forehead and then rested his own against it, taking another beat to recover.
“Never give up on a miracle” he finally said, not sure what exactly he meant by it. He knew he didn’t want her to give up, but he wasn’t sure what a miracle would look like. He did know that if anyone was deserving of a miracle, it was Scully.
She leaned back into him, tilting her face towards his so that for a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Just before her lips met his she passed his mouth and instead pressed them against his cheek, resting them there for a beat before she returned to his embrace. They stood like that for an agonizingly long time, rocking gently back and forth while her tears soaked the shoulder of his sweater and and her sobs became more shallow and further apart. He held her until she grew limp in his arms, and then he bent down and scooped her up, carrying her to the couch where he sat with her in his lap. She leaned into his chest, her eyes closed, as he reached down and plucked her boots from her feet, tossing them to the floor in a way that he knew would drive her crazy if she had the wherewithal to care. Next he pushed her coat off one arm, then lifted her torso off him gently to pull it free from the other arm and tossed it, too, onto the floor. Settling back against the couch, he wrapped one arm around her waist and encouraged her to lean into him, her forehead nestled in the crook of his neck. His other hand peppered her with tiny touches of reassurance; a brush down her shin, a stroke on the outside of her thigh, a thumb grazing her jaw, fingertips dancing over her arm, and finally intertwining with hers and settling in her lap. She was quiet for a long time, so long that he thought she may have fallen asleep. Finally she took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Are you okay?” He asked. It was a rhetorical question, but the only only one he could come up with.
“Not really” she answered, her voice flat.
“What do you need?” He inquired further. He felt like he should do something for her. What do you do for someone who just had their dreams stomped into dust?
She didn’t answer, but he felt her head shake gently against him. She didn’t know what she needed anymore than he did.
“Would you like to take a bath?” He asked, giving her a brief squeeze.
Now she nodded, her cheek brushing against his chest. “That sounds nice.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead before he stood with her in his arms; she was so light it took almost no exertion. He turned and set her gently on the couch and then went in to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He used the toilet and then stared at his reflection while he washed his hands. He stared back at himself, his eyes empty and expressionless. He willed himself not to feel, not to let the sadness overtake him too. He needed to focus on Scully. A pang of pain gripped at his heart and he closed his eyes, biting his lip. Just be here for her. Be her strength. She needs you. With a deep breath, he set his jaw, dried his hands, and drew her a bath.
When he returned to the living room, she was curled up in a ball on her side, staring vacantly. He knelt down beside her and ran his hand down the length of her arm. He forced a small smile to his lips. Be strong for her, he reminded himself.
“Hey,” he said in a near whisper. “Bath’s all ready for you.”
She lifted her head and he offered his hand to help her pull her to standing. She listed slightly, unsteady on her feet, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, escorting her into the bathroom.
“holler if you need me, okay?”
She nodded mutely and he left her, leaving the door open a crack. Returning to the living room, he looked around for something productive to do. He picked up her shoes and set them neatly by the door, hung her coat in the closet, straightened the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. Scully kept her apartment very tidy, so there wasn’t much to be done. It was nearly 5, he should think about dinner soon. A cursory inventory of her fridge indicated that they’d need to order out. Maybe they should watch a movie. Maybe she’d just want to go to bed. Should he get her pajamas ready for her? There was that helpless feeling again.
A sound from the bathroom interrupted his train of thought and he froze, listening. A low moan of agony sounded, followed by a gut wrenching sob. He walked quickly to the bathroom, knocking gently as he brought his lips to small space between the open door and the frame.
“Scully?”
Another wail and a sob. He felt a sharp pain in his chest.
“Scully, are you okay?”
He could hear her falling apart, the shredding sound of her pain gripping at him. He needed to go to her.
“Scully, I’m coming in.”
He pushed the door open slowly, the bathtub coming into view incrementally. She was sitting near the faucet with her legs tucked against her chest, her arms wrapped around them protectively. Her forehead was resting on her knees, and she was shaking with sobs as primal, guttural sounds escaped her lips, which were pulled into a grimace.
He rushed to her side, placing his hand on the bare skin of her back, which was dry and cool in the open air.
“Scully? Talk to me.” He felt afraid. He’d never seen her like this before.
She was shivering violently, her jaw chattering. She wouldn’t respond to him. She had gone somewhere else, somewhere deep inside herself. He needed to either pull her back, or go there with her. He needed to be with her. He stood, pulling his sweater and t shirt over his head in one quick movement, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down his legs, plucking off his socks. In a matter of seconds, he was down to his boxers, stepping into the empty space behind her in the tub. He pushed his legs into the narrow gaps on either side of her body and wrapped his arms around her, on top of her own. He pulled her to him so that her back was flush against his chest, and the shock of his warm skin against hers, which was chilled, seemed to jolt her back into reality. She went slack, releasing her grip around her legs as they straightened out before her, her head dropping back against him as she wailed. When she changed position, his arms had drifted to hold her around her rib cage, the soft swell of her breasts brushing against his forearms. She was so raw, so vulnerable, she didn’t even have the sense to care that she was draped over him naked, completely exposed. He was so engulfed with her pain, and with his own threatening to take center stage and pull him under with her, that he didn’t have the presence of mind to be affected by it like he normally may have been. He could see the taper of her waist and the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, he took in the pinkness of her nipples and the wobble of her breasts as her body shook with her grief, but that’s all it was, grief. He didn’t allow himself to see the beautiful naked body of the woman he loved, he only saw how much pain she was in, and wanted to find some way, any way possible, to help her.
“It’s okay, I’m here” he cooed into her ear, gently rolling side to side in a rocking motion.
She turned then, flipping over on to her belly so that they were chest to chest, her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapping around his torso beneath the water. She was still crying, but more softly, more in control, more present. He looked down the expanse of her bare back, the swell of her buttocks bobbing just above the water line. He saw her tattoo, something she kept mostly hidden from him, and he reached out to trace his finger over it, and endless circle against her skin. His chin quivered and he closed his eyes, keeping his breath steady so she wouldn’t sense the tears that were breaking free from his eyes, rolling down to drop into her hair. He brushed them away, his wet hand spreading even more water on his face, which would only help hide what he wanted to shield her from. Her cries subsided slowly, and then stopped altogether as the water grew tepid. He felt her body stiffen, and knew that she had returned to a level of awareness that made her uncomfortable with how exposed she was and the intimate nature of what they were doing. He lifted his hand to brush her hair from her face tenderly.
“Let me get you a towel, okay?”
She slithered away from him, pulling arms and legs into position to shield her breasts and vulva from view so that he could step out, his soaked boxer shorts clinging to his anatomy. He pulled a towel from the rack and held it open, high enough that it would block his view of her, and she stood so he could wrap it around her tiny frame as she stepped onto the bath mat. He hugged her toweled form to his chest, kissing the crown of her head.
“I’m sorry” she murmured.
He pulled back a bit and looked at her face with confusion.
“For what?” He asked, his voice full of concern.
She shook her head. “I’m a mess” she finally said, her eyes on the floor.
He hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.
“Of course you are. It’s okay to be a mess sometimes, Scully. It’s nothing to be sorry for.”
The ache in her eyes told him that she felt guilty for needing him, for being weak.
“Let me take care of you. Please.” He implored, and she closed her eyes and nodded softly.
Stepping away from her, he grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around his waist, reaching underneath to pull off his wet underwear and draping it over the side of the tub before slipping his hand under the water to pull the plug.
“come on, let’s get you dressed,” he directed her, putting his hand on her back as they walked to her bedroom.
She sat on the edge of her bed, exhausted but seemingly out of tears to shed for the moment.
“There are some clothes of yours, in the bottom drawer” she said absently over her shoulder, and he pulled it open to find clean boxers, sweatpants and t shirts, all items he’d noticed go missing at one time or another.
“You starting a collection, G-woman?” He teased her, and he was relieved to see her shoulders lift in the tiniest of chuckles. It was something.
He pulled on dry clothes, not concerned that she might turn and see him nude, then started looking through her other drawers for something she might like to wear.
“Do you want pajamas?” He asked, and she shrugged noncommittally. She didn’t care.
He grabbed some silk pajama pants, a black t shirt that looked like it would be comfortably baggy, and then paused at the smaller top drawers he knew would contain her bras and underwear. Which would be more intrusive; going into her underwear drawer or dressing her commando? He glanced at her over his shoulder and quietly opened the drawer. What was most readily available were black cotton briefs, and he snagged a pair to add to the pile of clothes. Towards the back, he could see lace, and red, pink and blue somethings. He glanced over his shoulder again; she had fallen to her side, her back still to him, head on the pillow. With preemptive guilt, he plucked at the red lace with his fingertips, pulling forward an impossibly tiny thong. He felt a little stirring in his pants and shoved it back in, chastising himself for thinking about her like that in a time like this. He closed the drawer and set the pile of clothes on her nightstand, kneeling down on the floor beside her. Her eyes were open and staring at nothing. She was there, but not. He touched her arm gently to get her attention.
“Scully? There are some clothes for you here. I’m going to order dinner, is there anything in particular that sounds good to you?”
Her eyes focused on him as though she’d only just realized he was there.
“What?”
“What do you want to eat?” He pushed a lock of hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.
She sighed deeply before responding. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’m not sure I can eat.”
“I’ll have to order something really, really good then, so you can’t resist,” he smiled softly at her.
She pushed her mouth into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay.”
He left her to get dressed and ordered pizza from her favorite place, then picked through her DVD collection and opted for something silly and light. Just when he was about to go check on her, she emerged from her bedroom dressed in the clothes he’d picked out and looking slightly more alert. She stopped to look at the opening credits playing on the TV.
“Weekend at Bernies?” She asked with raised eyebrows.
“You own it, Scully, don’t try to act like you don’t like it.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, having no retort for that fact, and sat beside him on the couch, folding her legs beneath her. Mulder appraised her out of the corner of his eye; she looked better, a little bit anyway. They watched the movie in companionable silence, Scully smiling but not laughing at the funny parts, until a knock on the door alerted them that dinner had arrived. After paying the delivery boy, he plopped it unceremoniously on the coffee table and grabbed a roll of paper towels.
“Whose apartment are we at, Mulder?” She asked him with a teasing tone, and he got up to retrieve two plates as well two beers from the fridge. “That’s more like it” she declared, and he was relieved by how much she sounded like herself.
They enjoyed upwards of an hour of something resembling normalcy, but he knew that didn’t mean they were out of the woods. While people like to see grief as a concentrated experience that is constant until it disappears, he knew that it operated more like waves against a shore; sometimes gently lapping, sometimes receding into almost nothing, sometimes crashing suddenly without warning. He would enjoy this still water, ready to hold her up when it returned to knock her on her ass, if she’d let him.
She didn’t eat much, picking at one slice of pizza until it was eventually gone, but she did finish her beer and then lay down, not resisting when he picked up her bare feet and set them in his lap, brushing his thumbs gently against the arches in an almost-foot rub. As the movie approached its conclusion, he glanced at her and saw that her eyes were again wet and shining, though her expression was neutral. He squeezed the foot in his hand and she looked at him, offering a sad smile.
“You wanna go to bed?” He asked, and she nodded. It wasn’t yet 9pm, but she was exhausted from emotion.
He stood and offered his hands to pull her to her feet, pausing to wrap her up in a brief hug before he escorted her to her bedroom. He wanted desperately to be near her, but he also knew that she often chose solitude when she was sad, and the fact that she’d allowed him to be here as long as she had was likely the limit of what he was going to get. Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d let him sleep on the couch. He was considering how to make this request as he pulled back the covers and tucked her into bed, sitting beside her hip on top of the comforter. She took his hand and looked at him in the soft light seeping in from the living room with something like trepidation in her eyes.
“Will you stay?” She asked, and the doubt in her voice shocked him.
“Of course I will,” he answered, squeezing her hand. “I can crash on the couch.”
She shook her head gently. “Will you stay here, with me?”
That lump was back, constricting his voice, so he just smiled at her and nodded, crawling over her legs to lay down behind her on top of the comforter, draping his arm over her waist. They were quiet for a while, but he could feel the buzzing of her thoughts and knew she wasn’t sleeping. It was getting chilly as night fell, and he shivered in his T shirt and sweats.
“Are you cold?” She asked, turning her face to the ceiling in an attempt to look at him.
“I’m okay” he lied.
“Get under the covers,” she ordered, and he complied, the warmth of her tiny body a welcome reprieve from the chill of the room. He returned his arm to its station at her waist and she took his hand under the blankets, clutching it to her belly. She sighed deeply.
“What are you thinking?” He asked, sensing that she wanted to talk.
She rolled on to her back, not releasing his hand, and looked at the ceiling as she spoke. “I just…” she started then stopped, and he watched quietly as a tear escaped the side of her eye and trailed down into her ear. “I feel like I don’t know what to do, how to move forward. Being a mother was always what I pictured for my future, and knowing that I’ll never be one….” She stopped again, wiped her free hand at her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was tight and pained. “I feel like I have no purpose. I know it’s stupid and I don’t believe at all that a woman’s only function in life is to bear children, but I still find myself feeling like my life holds no meaning now. What’s the point of this life if I’ll have nothing to show for it, no legacy to leave?”
He felt his own chin quiver and he pulled her to him, burying her face in his chest and wrapping his arms around her back, cocooning her against his body with her toes brushing his shins. He let out a shuddering breath as quiet tears rolled across the bridge of his nose and into the pillow, rubbing her back and willing himself to regain control. How could he tell her that he felt the same way? When his mom was gone, he would have no one on this Earth who was family to him. He would leave no legacy, at least not one he could be proud of. All he had was her, and she was questioning her worth.
“That’s not true, Scully,” he whispered, whispering being all he could manage through his emotions. “You can’t think like that. For one, this doesn’t have to be the end of the road for you, there are other options, other ways you can be a mom. And even if you choose not to pursue those, you have touched so many lives, mine included. Don’t ever think you won’t leave a legacy.”
She didn’t reply, just sobbed against him, clutching at his back until weariness overtook her and she drifted into a fitful sleep. Mulder stayed awake for a long time, enjoying the proximity to her that he so rarely experienced, the gentle thrum of her heart beating against his sternum a reminder that for all they had lost, they still had each other. At some point, he joined her in the reprieve of unconsciousness.
&&
When he woke, the room was dim though the clock told him it was after 8am. He could hear the patter of rain against the window; a dreary, grey day to complement their broken hearts. He turned to see Scully still sleeping, her plump lips slightly parted and her blonde eyelashes fluttering with dreams. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but now was not the time. He didn’t want her to think it was borne of pity, or sadness, or anything other than an unabashed desire to touch and love her the way she deserved, the way he’d wanted to for years. Reluctantly, he left the warmth of her bed and body to use the bathroom and then start a pot of coffee.
When she emerged 40 minutes later, he was sitting on the couch in silence, a cup of coffee in his hands and his feet on the table.
“Morning” he greeted her with a warm smile, and he felt his heart clench when she walked right over and sat beside him, leaning into his torso so he would wrap an arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest. He had the distinct feeling that she had missed him from her bed and sought out the comfort of his physical presence, and he placed a kiss to the crown of her head in appreciation. “Sleep okay?”
“Okay enough,” she answered.
“Do you feel up to going out for breakfast? Or I can go pick it up and bring it back here, if you want.”
“No, I should get dressed and attempt to be a functioning human at some point” she said, sitting up extracting herself from his embrace. “Give me 30 minutes?”
“I’ll be here, take your time” he replied, and she retreated to the bathroom where he heard the shower come on. Her change in demeanor lifted his spirits, and her acceptance of his comfort drew a smile to his lips. Though he hated the circumstances, he couldn’t deny how good the physical closeness felt. He knew that she’d likely put her walls back up without warning, and vowed to enjoy it while it lasted.
&&
After a short wait, they snagged a booth at one of Scully’s favorite breakfast spots that offered things beyond pancakes and bacon; scrambles on a bed of greens with whole cloves of garlic and house made potatoes were just what she needed. He was happy to see her actually eat and they chatted idly about a case they were planning to fly out on next week, some bureau gossip and the merits of jam versus jelly. During a lull in conversation, he saw Scully glance behind him toward the door and her face fell. He turned to look and immediately knew that the very pregnant woman talking to the hostess was the source of her demeanor change. He slipped out from his side of the booth and sidled up next to her on her side, taking her hand under the table wordlessly.
“I know this is going to sound really terrible,” she spoke in a hushed tone, “but this whole experience has made me really hate pregnant women. I feel angry at them for being able to get pregnant when I can’t.” He easily identified the shame in her statement.
“I think that’s pretty normal. I’ve always kind of hated people with normal families and parents who give them the time of day. It’s not very productive, but it can be pretty cathartic, at least in my experience.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m serious. When I see a two parent family with a boy and a girl, having a nice time out at the park or whatever, some part of my brain thinks ‘I hope they drop their ice cream cone on the pavement.’”
Scully laughed. The sound paired with the broad smile on her face were like fireworks and he beamed at her.
“That’s messed up, Mulder. I like it.”
“I bet that lady’s baby will come out with one of those smushed cone heads” he offered.
“I bet she has heartburn so bad she hasn’t slept in weeks” she retorted, smiling guiltily.
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cycat4077 · 4 years ago
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Reunited
Summary: You reconnect with an old college friend only to find that your past comes back to haunt you. Set during summer 2016 (S17). Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: Mild cussing, some angst, some feelings and dialogue (sorry) Words: 3247 AO3 here
Part 8 of the Changes verse. Masterlist here if you're interested :) (Could probably read as a stand alone fic if you’re not into series.)
A/N: I really wanted to give my main character a friend and ‘Sydney’ popped into my brain. Also, do y'all remember back in 2015 when Sonny said he had an ex at the LAPD? Yeah, me too. So I took the liberty of using it :P Sorry this fic is kind of meh (On a separate note, the pic doesn’t necessarily mean the reader is blonde. I just thought a Sonny hug would be fitting!)
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"Sydney?" you question, walking slowly up to the blonde who stands collecting her order at the campus coffee shop.
Immediately she spins on her heels and her face lights up with recognition. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaims, raising her arms to embrace you.
You and Sydney had graduated together from the master’s of education program; she, with a background in English lit and you, in biology. Despite being from different disciplines, you often worked on projects together and used your contrasting perspectives to bounce ideas between brains. As a result, Sydney became a close friend. But, as too often happens when people part ways, life whizzed by quicker than the two of you could stay in touch.
Now however, as you set foot on your new campus for a summer orientation workshop, you are thrilled to see a friendly and familiar face.
"What are you doin’ here, girl?!" she asks with the same enthusiastic energy you remember her for.
"New job!" you reply cheerfully.
"Ahh! That's awesome!" she squeals. "It'll be like old times! I've been in the English department for a few years now and I just love it."
You smile fondly. "I always knew you'd move back here.”
"Yup! You can take the girl outta the city…and all that stuff,” Sydney sweeps her silky locks behind her ear, “but I am surprised to see ‘little miss rural’ out this way!"
You raise your hands and shrug. "Me too! Though, opportunity knocked and I couldn't turn it down. Actually, this is my second teaching gig in Manhattan. I won't name names, but I got booted from my last one when a prof crawled out of retirement." You frown towards the ground, the wound still fresh.
"Bastards," Sydney mumbles under her breath. "That musta been rough, but I'm glad you're on the rebound." She offers you a hopeful smile. "You liking NYC then, since you ended up sticking around?" "It's alright. Different,” you admit. “I just moved in with my boyfriend though and he's slowly but surely converting me."
Sydney lets out another delighted squeal. During your college days she was always trying to get you to date. You told her about your past and she swore to avenge you. Unfortunately, her best efforts involved dragging you to parties and other social events where ultimately you ended up preventing her from making the bad decisions. Still, she cared about you and her genuine excitement over your relationship success makes you realize just how much you had missed her.
"I'm so happy for you! Is he cute? Is he smart? Does he work on campus?" She stretches her neck to look behind you as if Sonny is tucked away nearby.
You chuckle. "Nuh-no. He's an SVU detective. That's how we met actually." Her face falls with worry and you quickly elaborate. "I took a summer job there last year and we just clicked. He's really great." You smile proudly, stopping yourself from bragging Sonny too much.
"Aw, hon, I'm so excited for you!"
"Thanks! Hey, are you still with Geoff?"
"Hell no!" she fires quickly. "Caught that ess-oh-bee sneaking around behind my back so I kicked his ass to the curb. But it’s fine. I'm enjoying the single life and New York has just what I need!"
You smile. Same old Sydney. "Well, I'm glad you're all right and I'm thrilled we're here together! We have a lot of catching up to do! In fact, you should come by our place sometime."
"Absolutely! I'd love that!” she grins enthusiastically. “And that means I'd get to meet the man who swooped my shy science-nerdette off her feet!"
A blush creeps over your cheeks. "Did I mention he's an amazing cook?"
Sydney covers her heart like she's been shot. "You did now! So, I'll be holding you to a meal, you here me?" She glares playfully at you as she backs up towards the door.
You laugh and wave her goodbye. Sydney turns into her smiling self as she spins around and leaves.
-x-
"Wheh!" huffs the blonde standing in the doorway to your apartment. She’s just gotten her first glance at Dominick "Sonny" Carisi, Jr. "Ya didn't tell me he was such a looker!”
You swat her arm playfully. "Down girl."
"Hey there," smiles Sonny as he lumbers towards the front door. He's dressed himself in a pressed shirt and slacks for the occasion and he looks absolutely gorgeous. "I'm Sonny, nice ta meet ya," he continues, extending a hand in greeting.
"Ooh, Staten Island," she remarks, accepting his gesture. "Nice to meet ya too. I'm Sydney."
Sonny chuckles and points out her accuracy with a raised finger. "That Brooklyn I hear?" he counters.
"Sure is!" Sydney releases a laugh that’s as smooth and as charming as she is.
"Come on in," Sonny gestures towards your cozy little apartment. She steps forward, making herself at home just as she would always do when the two of you would visit somewhere new.
The evening transpires with a lovely dinner followed by story swapping, playing catch-up and allowing Sonny and Sydney to get acquainted. As the evening wears on however, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach.
Of course, it's wonderful to have Sydney back in your life – she’s one of the few people with whom you had allowed yourself to really open up. But as you listen to her and Sonny talk about growing up in the Boroughs, it's hard not to feel just a little out of place. There's so much you don't understand. So much that you don’t share in common with them. The best you can do is smile and nod along as the conversation flows.
Sydney is an extrovert through and through. She converses with others easily and can win them over with her natural charisma. Sonny too has the gift of the gab, and the pair seem to be hitting it off really well.
By now you’ve lost track of what they’re saying, instead listening to your inner voice. It's selfish and petty to be feeling this way, but there's a small part of you that is sad...jealous, you suppose. Maybe Sonny would prefer to have someone who knows what it’s like to grow up in the city surrounded by a bunch of siblings. Someone who is talkative and charming instead of quiet and shy. Not only that, but Sydney is gorgeous, with her luscious blonde hair and winsome smile. She always draws the eye of every person in a room. You don’t resent her for it by any means, it's just that you’ve never been in a relationship when she was around and so you’ve never had to worry about a significant other falling for her.
Were you that insecure about yourself that you could feel this way? That you had to worry your boyfriend, your Sonny, would be swept off his feet? It wasn't fair to either of them. Sydney has always been kind to you and you hate feeling any jealousy towards her. But worst of all, it’s not fair to Sonny. You know he loves you. He doesn't care that you’re not a supermodel and he is genuine when he tells you that you're beautiful. He loves you for who you are…No other guy has ever done that before. And that's why you're so torn up right now. You shouldn't be feeling jealous or worried, yet you are and it makes your stomach churn!
"Doll?" a soft voice startles you from your thoughts.
"Hmm?" you respond, trying to act casual.
Sydney jumps in. "We’re comparing notes on the best hidden gem restaurants around the city and Sonny says you love a little Italian spot in Tribeca.”
"Oh yeah,” you mutter. “Great alfredo."
Sonny’s brow knits, clearly sensing something is off. His blue eyes narrow and lips purse. "It's a bit pricey," he states, putting an arm around you. The action knocks you off balance as he draws you to him. "But I like ta spoil my girl from time ta time." Sonny unleashes one of his signature smiles, squeezing you ever so slightly in hopes of easing whatever seems to be on your mind.
"Aww, you two!" coos Sydney affectionately.
-x-
It's late evening by the time Sydney is thanking you for dinner and heading home. You and Sonny work in silence tidying up after your guest. And in that silence, your mind once again resorts to fabricating nagging thoughts of Sydney and Sonny. Moments are replayed with emphasis on how naturally they seemed to get along. But it’s that same silence which causes Sonny to speak up.
"What's wrong, doll?" he asks, pausing to lean up against the counter.
"Huh?" you reply with confusion.
"Somethin's up. I can tell. You were kinda distant earlier too." It’s not a question; he knows you too well.
"Nothing," you lie, trying to refocus on wiping down the table. How can you admit any of this to him?
"Tell me. Please," he begs, bending his head down to try and meet your gaze.
"I don't know,” you wring the dishtowel in your hands, “it's just…I kind of felt out of the loop sometimes tonight."
"Whaddya mean?" his eyebrows shoot up with concern.
"Well, you and Sydney hit it off so well..." Your voice trails off for a moment before you finally meet Sonny’s blue eyes. "Sydney's beautiful and charming and easy to get along with.”
“And you're not?”
The bluntness of his question hits you like a ton of bricks. “But…but she's from here,” you argue, tears starting to prickle at your eyes. “That's one thing I'll never have in common with you!”
Sonny stares at you in utter disbelief. “Doll,” his voice drops down to a soft note, “that means nothin’. I love that you're from outta town. You're more naive to the city ‘n I can see that there's still things about New York that excites ya. The lights on Broadway or the view of Lady Liberty in the harbor. Your pretty eyes absolutely light up! It’s so easy to get lost in the hustle ‘n bustle, but you remind me to stop ‘n appreciate all the little things too.”
Sonny’s now standing directly in front of you. He grabs your hands in his. “And don't even get me started about havin’ things in common.” A cheerful smile forms on his lips and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You ‘n I share odd tastes in movies ‘n we're both suckas for nostalgia when it comes ta music. But that's just the tip of the iceberg! The most important thing we share is our values. Family is priority numba one, ‘n you have no idea how long I've waited to meet someone who believes that too. It…it hurts me knowin' that you would ever doubt my love for ya.”
Those words cause you to fall apart and the tears you’ve been holding back trickle down your cheek. You cram your eyes shut, heart aching over the thought of making Sonny feel any pain. At the same time however, he also deserves to know why you still have your doubts.
You open your eyes to a warm hand caressing your cheek. It’s a gentle nudge to have you look at him. You find Sonny searching your features, so you interlace your fingers with his and gently tug him towards the sofa.
Sitting down beside you, Sonny gathers your legs to place atop of his. The closeness makes you feel safe as you mentally prepare yourself to tell all. You take a deep breath and glance up to a loving, encouraging smile pasted across on your boyfriend's features. “Sometimes I get worried that I’ll scare you off,” you tell him.
Immediately he interjects, rubbing your knee soothingly. “That’s nonsense, doll.”
“I know,” you say half-heartedly, “but it’s more to do with my own self-doubt.” Sonny’s expression saddens and he reaches out for your hand. You take it, linking your pinky with his. “Back when I was a biology student, there was this guy taking the same classes as me. He was a year or two older and we got along really well. We shared a lot of common interests. You know, movies and sports and all that stuff. It led us to spend a lot of time together during our free periods. He started doing these little things that seemed so affectionate. For instance, trying to sit tight beside me or asking to hold my hand. He paid me all kinds of compliments and even told me I was beautiful. Needless to say, I fell for him hard.” You pause, fiddling with Sonny’s finger. You had forgotten how much this all hurt to talk about.
Rubbing a hand across your forehead you continue. “One day, I worked up the courage to ask him out. But that’s when things spiraled downhill. He got really defensive and flat out said that he didn’t feel anything for me. That all the little things which I thought meant flirting were actually meaningless and, that I was crazy for thinking otherwise. To add insult to injury, he also said I was too young for him.” Sonny’s shoulders drop and he squeezes your hand a little tighter. “All I could manage was a lame ‘okay’ and left. I cried for weeks and it really threw me through a loop. I’ve been insecure about my feelings ever since. I felt humiliated and embarrassed for being fooled by his charms and for allowing myself to love him. So, I just buckled down and focused on my education, never really trusting myself to openly fall in love again. I was scared of making the same mistake – that is, until I met you.”
With your soul bared, Sonny swiftly pulls you into a hug. He holds you tight, warmth surrounding you as if he hoped it would melt away your pain. You press your face into the crook of his neck, giving him a soft kiss.
Sonny leans back, trailing his hands down your arms. “None of that was your fault, sweetheart,” he reassures. “That guy was a prick who needed ta lead ya on ta make himself feel important. Guys like that enjoy havin’ a girl’s affection, but the moment ya had the balls to tell him how ya felt he was too insecure ‘n pushed ya away. But y’know what?” he pats your arms lightly. “That’s his loss because ya have the biggest heart of any person I’ve ever met. N’ I’m lucky to be the one who gets ta be on the receiving end.”
His compliment makes you smile sheepishly. “Thank you, Sonny.” You truly love this man with all your heart. “I’ve tried not to let it affect me – affect us – but it’s one of those things that festers in the back of your mind.”
“I know,” he agrees. “It’s normal.” You watch as he looks away for a moment and swallows thickly. “I neva told ya this before, but I went through somethin’ like that myself…”
With Sonny being a chatterbox and sometimes oversharing information, it comes as a surprise that he too is guarding a part of himself. You flash him a reassuring smile, once again linking your fingers as a silent offer of your support.
And so, he begins. “I spent a year in California when I got out of the academy. There was this rotation at the LAPD ‘n I was young ‘n thought it would be really cool to get outta New York. Turns out I immediately fell head over heels for one of their young detectives. One bat of her eyelashes ‘n I was a goner. We ended up askin’ each other out ‘n life seemed great. Fancy dinners ‘n presents I couldn’t really afford. But at the time, it all seemed worth it because we were happy.” Sonny turns shy as he speaks and you feel a twinge in your gut. It had never occurred to you that he had been in love before you came along.
He looks up to the ceiling as if he dreaded the next lines of his story. “Then my contract was up. I thought we were a strong enough couple to stick together, so I asked her to be move back to New York with me. I said that we could be closer to my family ‘n that they were dyin’ to meet ‘er. But…we didn’t see eye to eye on that.” Sonny releases a sigh. “Yeah, she told me that she moved to LA to get away from family n’ that she loved it too much out there to up and leave. I was dumb ‘n in love ‘n I just didn’t get it. I offered to stay with her instead but she gave me the ol' speech: Yourra nice guy, Sonny, but we have different paces to life. It would never work out.”
You whisper his name, heart shattering on his behalf. He looks to you with a furrowed brow and continues. “I gave her my whole heart ‘n she wasn’t even willin’ to make an effort to keep us togetha. I don’t like to admit it very often, but I was a mess. I flew back to New York ‘n not long after joined law school. Then I ended up bouncin’ around the Boroughs until I met you.” Sonny’s face warms. His eyes sparkle and he unleashes a smile. “Now the whole world seems right! We can be ourselves around each other. I know I have my flaws, but you’d never judge me for ‘em. Instead, ya love ‘em too ‘n I hope ya know that it’s a two-way street from me.”
Now it’s your turn to smile. You remove your legs from him to cuddle under his arm. Sonny wraps around you and kisses the top of your head. “I love you, Sonny,” you mouth into his chest.
“Love ya too, sweetheart.”
You lean back to caress his cheek with your palm. “I think we have another thing in common,” you offer and Sonny peers at you inquisitively. “We fall in love easily.”
Sonny chuckles. “Yeah, it’s like you’re divin’ into tha deep end head first, but ya only find out it’s too shallow once you’re already leapin’.”
You nod your head in agreement. “It’s funny how that stuff always lingers with you. Like a scar that keeps scabbing over. When you jump off the swings as a kid and scrape your knee, you’ll see that scar afterwards and your brain reminds you to never do that again! It’s a shame that the same thing happens when your heart gets hurt. I always felt like I was scared to put myself out there over the fear of being heartbroken again.”
Sonny hums understandingly. “But,” he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “when the right person comes along, all that hurt disappears. Because this time,” he smiles affectionately, “when you jump off the swing, there’ll be someone there to catch you.”
Your serious faces contort into goofy smiles. “See? What did I tell ya, doll? We’re so alike that we even share a knack for makin’ up dumb analogies.” Sonny’s eyes once again crinkle at the corners and he shifts to kiss your temple.
Leaning into his touch, you close your eyes and savor the moment. It feels good to clear the air like this and to be able to forge a connection that’s just that much deeper.
---
Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you’re interested in being part of a tag-list. Any and all feedback is loved :)
Part 9, “Stuck-On Cheese” is up here
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lynenspray · 4 years ago
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joyrene 01
prompt: Horny virgin Irene urging to have her first time with g!p Joy. if possible I’d like them to be settled at Irene’s strict parents house please.
(fic length warning: 5.7k words)
---
let’s close this distance
(joyrene gp!joy blowjob safe sex)
for irene, it started at a club. 
more specifically, it started with her being tricked into going to la rouge and not having the ability to say ‘no thanks’ when she got there. thus, this resulted in her being persuaded into joining their girls-night-out.
the first thing irene did was glare when she saw her friend standing by the entrance beside the bright, neon-lit sign of one of the fancier nightclubs, completely fine. 
she grumbled because this was opposite of the impression she got when she received her companion's text of: hi, irene. you need to come and fetch your friend. she's wasted. we're at la rouge downtown. -joy
"why is your face not plastered on the road?" irene sighed as her friend looped an arm around hers, having the suspicious feeling that she'd been set up crawl up her spine.
her friend giggled beside her, jostling the woman as she waved past the bouncer and offered irene's wrist herself to get the entrance-and-exit stamp. "it was the only way to get you out of the house! can you blame me?" she poked irene's nose cheekily. "you're right on time, we're only on our third bottle of tequila."
"third?! it's midnight. how long have you guys been drinking?" 
her friend tapped a finger against her chin. "maybe... two hours? look, what's important is that you have a good time now that you're not cooped up in your parents' house."
irene's eyebrow twitched. "my parents are good people," she half-heartedly defended. 
"they're great people," her friend agreed, also half-heartedly. "but you're in your twenties and don't need to live with them every time you come back here. you can hit me up anytime, you know, you're always welcome."
irene only shrugged. she only came around for her family, so living away from them wasn't going to happen. besides, that was no reason to bother her friends. 
"ah—everyone, meet irene!" 
they turned to find a group of people their age, and irene greeted their hellos with a polite if stiff smile, resigned to the proceedings of the rest of her night and knowing she didn't bargain for spending it like this. 
well. at least she had the good idea to change out of her sweats and into some leather jeans and a silk shirt; it had been a while since she came back to her home province, and a lot had changed, but her height and stature not much so. unfortunately. 
irene found herself given some space to sit, so she took it and squeezed between her childhood friend and another woman she couldn't quite see properly. the lights were bright but merely flashing here and there, and the music was too loud for her to catch her friend's attention again when the other conversed with someone else. 
but that didn’t seem to stop the stranger beside her; if anything, she didn’t seem to mind moving in close enough to murmur in irene’s ear. "have a welcoming shot, irene."
the group of people here was made of people irene hadn't met before, so she assumed they were her friend's colleagues or past classmates. while irene went to seoul, her friend stayed here, and it showed with how many people were gathering around her. 
"I didn't catch your name," said irene. 
the lights flashed across a flawless face, where plump red lips curled into a grin. irene watched as the woman placed the glass in her hand and kindly poured some salt on her skin. "joy."
"so the text was from you. or at least, it was in your name," irene hummed, and it only made the woman smile wider, eyes roaming irene's face and then her neck and then—oops, the flashing lights went away. she figured she knew where the woman's gaze ended up, though. 
"that's right," joy replied. irene felt her gaze sear into her, watching her tongue lick her skin and throat bob as she downed the shot offered before biting into a lemon slice. "I did actually send that myself. your friend wouldn't stop going on about you, I almost thought she liked you."
irene scrunched her nose. "she's not my type." 
another shot of tequila was handed to her, with joy clinking her glass with her own and licking her salt and downing her drink at just the same pace. when she breathed the scent of the alcohol out her mouth, irene was surprised to find joy's fingers holding out the cut of lemon, placing it just by her lips. 
"what's your type, then, irene?" joy asked, watching her suck on the offered fruit. "what do you think about women like me?" 
irene tilted her head as joy placed the slice back on the plate. "that's very straightforward." she bit back a gasp when joy wiped a thumb over the corner of her mouth before running it over her lips, looking pleased when irene quickly licked it clean.
the grin on her face turned wicked. "so are you," she said, inching closer. the smell of alcohol wafting from her was strong but not irritating. surprisingly. 
joy was wearing a skirt that was tight and short and hugged her curves deliciously, and—why was irene staring?
she blinked and quickly looked up. joy was eyeing her, still with a smug grin on her face and a devilish glint in her eye. "you seem to like what you see."
irene couldn't help but blush, feeling the heat rush up her face and a pool of want form in her gut at the way joy hooked an arm over her shoulders. joy was beautiful; no one should be able to blame irene. 
something about the other woman stole her breath away. she was sure that this happened to other men and women alike when looking at joy, but what mattered was that right now, joy was looking at her. 
"you're so gorgeous you make me think you taste better than this cocktail," joy murmured by her ear, nipping slightly and making irene clench her fists. 
this girl was shameless. 
in the light, where everyone could see them, irene would shrink away. but tonight they were hidden by the shadows and the beat of la rouge, and so irene could be as receptive of her advances as she wanted. and she wanted joy on top of her very, very badly. 
"you never know. that might be true." she tucked her own face by the crook of joy's neck and placed her mouth right by her ear. "d'you want to find out?" 
"I—" 
irene blinked when the sound of another voice pulled them away from each other. 
"irene! joy! take another shot with us."
despite knowing it was an awful idea to be taking more than three shots within a short amount of time, irene found herself nodding and going along with it, thinking that since she was here (and drinking for free) she may as well make the most of it. and she could use some more liquid courage to come onto the woman beside her a bit stronger. 
irene grimaced after another drink of the liquid heat. yup. just as awful as earlier.
"how's your alcohol tolerance? you're around people you've just met, you know."
she felt something flutter in her chest at joy's concern. "it's alright. the worst thing I can do is take a selca."
"I doubt even a drunk selca can be unflattering for you."
"no need to worry, then."
joy flashed her a winning smile, entertained. 
they were all nice people, but irene's eyes kept going back to the beautiful woman beside her throughout the night. and she was breathtaking; irene ended up being curious as to why joy wasn't being pestered by other people in the club. 
"it's 'cause they know I've got my eye on you," joy answered simply. "no one else stands a chance. obviously," she emphasized her last word, eyes dragging across irene's body. 
"mhmm, but my eyes are up here." 
"I know." joy grinned, gaze still very much not meeting hers, too preoccupied by the rest of what she was seeing. 
this girl was funny. shameless, but funny. and irene didn't mind. 
"did you say something?" 
irene shook her head, lips curling in amusement, waiting for whatever joy was going to say next. 
"ah, you'll have to come closer. the music is too loud."
incredibly shameless. irene grinned and sat closer, receptive to the attention and enjoying the conversation. 
this could be a good night if she played her cards right. 
irene moved closer and closer as the night went on, until hours later she was seated comfortably in joy's lap, listening to one of her friend's workmates rant about a drama or two. it turned out joy was a colleague of her friend's. this was apparently a get-together after the success of one of their big projects, and it was an all-woman squad to boot.
"—and that's why I think the so-dubbed cursed second lead storylines are superior. they're just so much more genuine, and most of the time the second leads are nicer anyway, with better backgrounds," a woman with fluffy blonde hair proclaimed. 
irene felt joy's arms wrap around her. "that's…" she started to say politely, running out of words before she could even say them, until she was interrupted. 
"that's so wrong! there's a reason they're only the second lead, and its because their characterizations are bland and one-dimensional," argued one of their other workmates, the youngest among their crowd. 
"no! you're wrong!" 
irene hid a giggle behind a small hand, entertained by their disagreement and the glares they sent each other. 
"those two get along like tom and jerry," joy deadpanned near her ear, causing goosebumps to appear where her breath met irene's skin. "in my opinion they should just bone already and save everyone the trouble of having to listen to their nonsensical arguments."
irene looked at joy, then squinted at the two women in front of her. "well… I suppose I can see that."
yeah, the blonde did seem put off by the smirk on the brunette's face, but she was leaning in closer anyway, until they were only separated by a few inches. 
oops. that looked a private moment. irene should turn the other way. 
but when she did and followed her brain, she came face to face with the heavy gaze of the woman she was seated on top of. wait—when did I sit on her lap? 
she must have drank more than she thought, at a party she wasn't even supposed to go to. how embarrassing. 
"am I heavy? should I move?" irene almost didn't recognise her own voice; it was lower, deeper, huskier than usual. and instead of locking eyes with joy, her gaze was drawn to the woman's lips. they looked so soft, and so, so pretty… 
"you're lighter than a feather." joy sounded amused. irene wasn't sure, all she could really think about was the shape of the woman's lips and how near she was. "is there something on my face?" 
"there should be, yeah," irene whispered, leaning in closer until their noses bumped. 
joy could move away if she wanted to, and irene gave her a second to decide, but she stayed put. so she continued. 
"me." 
she was right. 
joy's lips were soft. 
her tongue was moist and responsive, and her mouth was warm and inviting. she tasted like candy, for some reason, and irene could drown in the smell of her perfume. 
joy was incredibly receptive, taking the lead and exploring her curves. she was still wearing all her clothes, but each touch burned through and felt ten times as pleasurable.
she cradled joy's face between her hands and breathed her in, tilting her head and kissing her deeper, yanking a groan out of the woman and swallowing the vibrations of it down. 
her body moved impossibly closer to the other woman, falling into joy's gravitational pull. the gasps she let out were intoxicating, fueling the hunger irene felt coiling in her navel. 
she felt herself getting greedy, wanting more, and joy was giving it to her, responding in kind, biting her lips and dipping her fingers into her back and waist. her own found their way between locks of joy's hair and gripped tight, tugging and pulling her closer, gasping into the minimal space between them. 
she felt lightheaded and grounded at the same time, alive and burning with need for the woman beneath her. irene heard a mewl come out of her when joy's fingers slid under the fabric of her shirt, touching bare skin.
still, not enough. she wanted joy's hands higher, further, wanted those fingers pumping in her cunt and—
"hey, whoa, okay, keep it in your pants, you two."
irene gasped as she moved back and frowned at her friend who disturbed them. they were keeping it in their pants; though she felt that joy really wanted to get in hers right about now, judging from the bulge she felt.
before she could say anything, joy laughed and held her tight. "relax, we have all night, baby," she whispered. then she turned to her co-worker. "I have a better solution. why don't you just look away?" 
her friend smiled sarcastically. "and miss the show you're willing to provide?" 
she gently pushed irene off the taller woman and reclaimed her bag from their other side. 
"it's three in the morning. club's closed. can you guys get a ride together? irene's house is along your route, joy. here, why don't I book a ride for you—" 
irene wasn't going to complain about that. and beside her, with a smile and sultry eyes, joy seemed up for it too. 
for joy, it started in a car.
or, more specifically, it started when joy found herself pressed against irene in the back of a car, the smaller woman tucked under her arm. 
irene's hand explored the expanse of joy's thigh that was visible, brushing over her clothed dick from time to time and sparking electricity in the taller woman's veins. 
with lips kissing where joy's jaw met her neck, irene mumbled, "I want you. right now."
joy let out a shaky breath, feeling dazed and half delirious with irene's hand kneading her cock. she was two seconds away from keening out loud, and she would rather do that in the comfort of a bedroom, not the back of a car with a stranger in the front seat. 
it was too bad that the booked ride wasn't going to change its course. plus, they were apparently only a minute or two away from where irene was getting dropped off. 
"come inside me. I mean with me, come inside with me. in my house—my parents' place. it's up ahead."
joy hid a laugh at the tipsy woman's antics and eyed the street outside, lined with fenced houses. hmmm. "aren't they home?" 
"doesn't the thought of possibly getting caught only make it hotter?" irene murmured in reply, slipping a hand underneath joy's short skirt and lightly teasing the cloth covering her dick with a gentle scratch.
fuck. touché. 
the interior of the house was simple and would be incredibly inviting— that is, if joy were a welcome guest and not someone about to fuck the baes' eldest daughter. 
joy tried not to think about it. but it was something that turned her on. 
but still… wasn't what joy was expecting at all. not that she didn't like it. 
"only a wall between your room and your parents?" 
"and my sister's." irene gently pushed her back onto the warm, fluffy bed. the only light peeking through did so through the curtains, framing irene's face in an otherworldly way. 
"that's bold—ah," joy hissed as irene knelt between her legs, opening them and nuzzling into her center, rubbing against her semi-hard member. she couldn't think straight with those doe eyes looking up at her, with her skirt bunched up against the bridge of irene's nose, with the slick wetness that was her tongue against joy's cotton underwear. "christ."
when joy first set her eyes on irene tonight, she didn't think she'd be this lucky. she thought she'd have a quick blowjob in the restroom, as gross as that was—not this. but damn, she wasn't going to say no. 
a finger snuck its way along her thigh and slipped under the hem of her underwear, brushing along her length, skin finally meeting skin. "oh fuck—" 
"hush," irene commanded, before pulling the taller woman's underwear down and bunching her skirt up, proceeding to remove her own top in the process. "you don't want them to hear us, do you?" 
was that a challenge? joy smirked and ran a hand through irene's hair. if that was the case, then she should be the one in control. 
"may I?" she inquired, tugging at irene's locks and making the smaller woman's eyes flutter. 
bingo. 
joy held on tighter, yanking a soft gasp out of irene. 
"you're so polite." the woman looked up at her through her lashes, smile crooked and face flushed. 
the taller woman let her eyes roam all over irene's flawless torso, from the shadows casted by the shape of her collarbone to her pink nipples, thinking of how beautiful irene would look covered in her cum. 
yes, she was very polite. 
"open wide, sweetheart." joy held irene's chin in her other hand and eased her open, the woman following her command and poking out her tongue to receive the precum-drooling cock. 
if joy thought irene looked gorgeous in that club, with the shifting red and green lights on her, now she looked ethereal bathed in moonlight.
"that's it, baby," she groaned, pulling irene closer and dipping her mushroomed head into the offered mouth. "taste me."
she gasped when irene sucked and tightened her mouth around her, teasing the underside of her member with playful licks, causing her to grunt and grind her hips. the woman below her kept a steady pace, staring up at her, a crease forming on her brow every time she took another inch and slurped her up. 
irene explored her length slowly, teasing around her head and nipping at the sensitive skin right past it before gulping down more of her, cold hands twisting around the base of her shaft. 
fuck. irene felt so good around her. joy could cum from this alone. 
"hnn, yes, just like that," she encouraged. the feeling was too much, and the sounds they were making were too loud. 
as soon as joy took her hands off irene, however, the woman gulped her down as far as she could, down to the hilt, and it sent joy reeling until she lay back and flat on the bed. 
"shit—" she let out before slapping a hand against her mouth to stop the sounds from coming out. the coil started to form in her gut, irene's cold fingers around her balls making her shiver. christ. 
her hips jerked involuntarily, chasing after that warm cave that slid around her shaft. 
it was slick, wet, and impossibly tight yet so welcoming. it was addicting, made just for her, fitting around her girth perfectly and causing her helpless thrusting turn wild and uncontrollable, all while irene never stopped fondling her jewels and pushed her open. 
joy usually never bottomed when she had sex, maybe once or twice with one-night-stands that she'd feel neutral about the day after, but god, this was incredible. there was something about irene, maybe her gaze and her touch or those sinfully delicious lips, that made joy just want to submit. 
irene had her pinned and desperate, sucking her off to an almost painful degree, getting her there but not quite yet. she needed something more, something just as otherworldly as the woman on her knees for her. 
and just when she was about to voice it out, joy got it. 
irene's throat convulsed around her, pumping her dick with her muscles, and the pool of fire in joy's gut set her ablaze. every inch of her was suddenly sensitive yet numb simultaneously, feeling hot all the way from her toes to the tips of her fingers.
her body twitched and stiffened up every few seconds, choking her in the intensity of her natural reactions sparked by one dark haired woman whose eyes never left her form. 
"I'm gonna cum," joy whimpered, her voice trapped behind her palm. 
her other hand reflexively tangled itself through irene's hair and pulled her even closer, until joy was as deep as she could go, and came in spurts of white that irene swallowed down gracefully. 
exhausted, joy let her arms fall back on the bed. that was mind-blowing; her limbs were jelly now. she needed a bit of time to recuperate before going another round, she wouldn't be able to last if irene took it too fast, shuffling out of her silk shirt. 
yet when small, cold hands snuck their way under her bunched up dress, slipped her out of it, and unclasped her bra, she didn't resist. and when those fingers started trailing over her revealed skin, caressing the shapes of her breasts, pressing against her nipples, tickling their way past her stomach down to her navel, until she was getting hard again… 
joy chuckled and sat up until she was leaning on her elbows, still breathless, still enraptured by the woman in front of her. "as I said, we have all night, baby."
irene only looked at her with a smirk that pushed any thoughts of taking it slow tonight away, making a grab for the side table and slipping a condom on joy faster than she could think. she was already stiffening up from the view of the woman alone. 
"and like I said," irene started, before pushing her up to the middle of the bed and straddling her, lining up her pussy against joy's half-erect cock, rolling her hips and coating the condom further with her slick. "I want you now."
something told joy that if she pursued anything further with irene, more than a casual hook-up, she'd find herself in this position more often than not. instead of joy leaning over the other woman, it was irene pushing her back, pressing down on her. 
the ache in her balls and the shiver that ran through her told her that she didn't mind, though. certainly not when irene ground her hips against her flesh, their sexes slipping against each other. 
"oh, god," joy gasped out, moaning when irene pressed their bodies together and caused their fronts to meet, kissing her neck all the while. it felt so good. it felt too good; if joy thought she would handle everything tonight she was so, so wrong. was this legal? "fuck, you're real, right?" her head dipped back into the bed as her back arched. 
irene's chuckle in response was low and sensual, almost predatory, as she continued her movements. "you're cute. who knew you'd be so docile in bed."
she wasn't—not really. irene was just something else entirely, from her face to her mouth, oh god, her mouth, and now her slick heat. joy was getting dizzy from it. "ah," she gasped when irene canted her hips just so, the most sensitive part of joy's cock drenched in irene, stimulating her faster than she'd been prepared for. "wait, wait—" 
the woman above her stopped abruptly and tilted her head, gazing at joy curiously. "is this your first time as well?" 
no, no, wait— "as well? what do you mean…"
was irene trying to say that she'd fucked someone else before this? one of joy's coworkers? she was being compared to a virgin? 
"this isn't—I'm not—" joy stumbled over her words at irene's innocent question while her pussy hugged the length of her dick. "no. no."
"then that makes one of us."
huh? this was irene's first? she was irene's first? 
despite the fact that joy supposedly had the upper hand, irene only smiled prettily, completely in control. "please take care of me," she teased, both women knowing that irene was the one deciding for the two of them and setting the pace. 
without another word, irene was all over her, sitting up and teasing her own entrance with the tip of joy's cock and moaning all the while. "hnn," she cried, slowly sliding down, balancing herself with an arm against joy's navel.
god, oh god. "so good, oh my god, baby." it took everything out of joy to not thrust her hips off the bed and drill into the welcoming heat pouring juices all around her. "irene. please, go slow or I'll explode," she desperately begged, dick stiffening and balls aching as the pulsing cavern enveloped her. holy shit. 
irene only chuckled above her, slightly breathless and halfway down her swelling cock. "didn't you just cum?" 
"mhh," joy whined, fingers curling and digging into the sides of irene's hips as she felt her gut clench, body beginning to warn her that her peak was near. "you're—I won't last," she desperately gasped, still trying to hold on to that last bit of control while irene's pussy sucked her further in.
the only thing she heard was an amused "good," before her body gave up, surrendering everything to irene. her hands slipped away from pale hips and were placed once again on her mouth as irene swirled her hips and took her in until the hilt. oh god oh god so tight so good so fucking—
"mfgh," joy choked against her palm, almost crying, grunting as quietly as she could as irene rode her while she came. the other woman's pace was unpredictable, going slowly and then quickly, changing from shallow and desperate to deep and forceful; irene was simply stringing joy along on the edge until she felt like finishing her off. 
and the most surprising part? joy liked it. 
joy really really liked it. 
everything was up to irene, every part of her willingly under the woman's control. the hand pressing against her chest, the hair forming curtains above her, the smirking lips that had a finger placed against them, reminding joy to keep quiet or they'll hear us, is that what you want?—they all belonged to irene.
"is this all you've got?"
joy whimpered, embarrassed to be turned into jelly beneath the other woman and to be teased for it. 
irene swiftly got off of her and if joy was expecting to see a cruel look in her eyes she was wrong. irene was focused on her, intense with her gaze, but rather than a sneer and amusement she looked excited and interested. huh. 
"I—wow," joy gasped and slipped the condom full of cum off, tying it before irene took it away from her hands and gave her a new packet. holy shit. could she handle it? she was still hard, sure, but she might not meet the expectations irene had for her. 
"come on, joy." irene's tone was teasing, but her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I never knew this could feel so good—and you cum so much. I want to make you feel even better." she pumped joy's condom-covered cock with smooth fingers and played with her balls some more, yanking a groan out of her. 
jesus. as if she could say no to her or her proposition. who was she kidding? 
"how do you want me?" irene's tone was innocently curious as she whispered, so different from how she was while riding joy. the contrast made her head spin almost as much as having the woman's body against her did. "on my back? on top of you?" 
instead of answering verbally, joy moved in for a kiss against the woman's chest, trailing her tongue over her skin and earning a soft gasp in return. she wanted to show her appreciation; after all, irene gave her a blowjob and rode her all without complaint. 
her skin was salty from sweat and had the slight smell of alcohol and smoke from the club, but goddamn. joy liked it. she lavished and licked at every inch, around and in between irene's perfectly shaped breasts, on her pink and stiff nipples, along the shape of her collarbone.
going by the hushed whimpers above her, irene seemed to like the worship; the whimpering turned into whines, and soon irene was rocking her wetness against her thigh, impatient. 
joy had no idea she could produce such a quiet, desperate growl when she stopped and told irene to "get on your knees."
would it be corny to describe irene as the embodiment of perfection? from the shape of hef silhouette to the muscles on her back to the sinful groans joy teased out of her as she held her long black hair in one hand and palmed her ass cheeks open with the other—good god. she was going to go crazy from this. 
she slid in carefully and slowly, but it didn't last long; irene rolled her hips and arched like a bow so beautifully it was too hard to resist. it made joy feel like a teenager having her first time all over again, wanting to impress but too overwhelmed with pleasure. 
"you feel so good," joy whined, curling over irene's body. it was like irene made it her mission to milk everything out of her, from the way she clenched around her cock. 
"keep going, keep going, please, please." irene sounded almost as breathless as joy felt. 
joy continued, both of their moans whispering through the air, no longer in control of her body. 
every movement she made was to spark a pleasured reaction out of the woman below her. she had nothing now, surrendered it all to irene and offered whatever she could. irene who fucked her so well. and irene who fucked her so hard. 
she liked to think she wasn't rushing, wasn't impatient, but she was rocking down on her with purpose and power on the verge of thoughtless humping. it drove joy crazy, irene's whimpers and body, delirious and drunk from the pleasure forced on her; irene was merciless, her body chanting give it to me give it to me fucking give it. 
joy came with a muffled cry as soon as irene did. 
she panted as her body twitched and irene spasmed around her, gasping and barely holding herself up. the boiling heat, similar yet so different from her earlier peaks, came over her in a rush. 
it was maddening and joy didn't know whether she wanted it to end or last forever; though she knew she would rather have painted irene's walls with her cum instead of filling up a condom. next time. maybe. if there was going to be a next time. 
joy whispered an apology against irene's skin as she pulled out and cleaned up while the other woman turned to lay on her back. christ, how was it possible that irene looked even more beautiful while fucked out? her skin was tinged pink, laced with sweat, hair mussed and lips swollen. joy couldn't help but sigh in disbelief and awe. 
irene raised a hand to trail along joy's front, from her stomach up to her breast, wrapping itself behind her neck before pulling her in for another soft, warm kiss. 
"you're so pretty."
it took a second before joy realized that the statement didn't come from herself when she'd been thinking the same thing. 
she looked down to find irene observing her with a blush, eyes dark but curious, roaming all over joy. she wasn't just gorgeous, she was also adorable. what the hell. 
"oh? that's very straightforward," joy grinned and echoed irene's quip from earlier that night. she brushed a few stray hairs away from irene's face. "at least buy me dinner first."
irene scrunched her nose prettily before chuckling. "and cute."
"and sexy," joy insisted, nuzzling into the woman below her and pulling the sheets up to cover them. 
"that too."
joy paused when she realized that she was tucking them both into what was likely irene's childhood bed. "ah, I should… go," she murmured tentatively, already halfway into sitting up. 
it wasn't awkward to slowly get dressed. they both knew the drill—or, well, joy did. irene would come to find out the regular routine of one-night-stands too. or maybe she already did bring people home, only to not end up doing the do all the way with them. or maybe she was lying just to, like, inspire joy or something to do her best. 
"what's with the face?" 
joy blinked as she turned to look at irene, head cradled on her arm as she peered at her. "what face? I don't have any face." did she sound grumpy? she shouldn't. why would she be jealo—grumpy? it was just a meet 'n' fuck scenario. get a grip, joy. 
"um," irene cleared her throat. "can I at least get your number?" 
the taller woman practically ripped through her purse in her haste to get her phone and hand it to an amused irene. "sure. I wouldn't want you attempting to reach me through asking for help from a mutual friend. that's the oldest trick in the book."
irene's smirk is illuminated by the light of joy's phone. "is it? I heard it works, though. sometimes one can even use their phone to try and meet their hot friend."
joy snorted as irene gave her back her mobile. bae irene. without any preamble, she pressed the call button and heard irene's phone ring from the woman's pants. 
"then I'll see myself out. and… see you around." 
irene yawned and tucked herself into bed. "okay. see you around."
this was confusing. joy usually left once her conquest for that evening was asleep and slip away during the night. this was… almost like a rendezvous between secret lovers. 
nah. she'd just been watching too many dramas. 
the air outside was crisp but inviting, and from the sounds of the city around her, joy could guess that morning was coming along. 
before she could take another step, her phone vibrated from a message that read: hi, joy.
you hi, irene. there's a new cafe beside la rouge that I'm sure you haven't tried. their red velvet cake is sinful.  6:03 AM [✓✓] 
bae irene I'd like to try that out with you, then.  6:05 AM
—actually, maybe for both irene and joy, it all really started with a text. 
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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years ago
Text
Ally x Cordelia X Reader (Part 3)
So I haven't written this in a while but I'm excited. I didn't reread it in full so I hope it makes sense. Also, I think this is longer than the other two parts.
Summary: The three of you have had your fair share of troubles but what will happen when all your pasts’ come to for the foreground.
Warning: N/A
Parts: One, Two, Three, Four (will be added when posted)
I can see the headlines now, “Senator Allyson Mayfair killed Ex-Wife.”
Ally stared at the local online newspaper report about her accusing her of murdering her Ex-wife, listing some recent evidence that had surfaced supporting the case. She couldn’t take the threats as just that anymore. This person is ruining her reputation in the public's eye. It wasn’t long until now that these accusations will need to be addressed and if they find out the truth, that they were true.
Without a moment's hesitation, she picked up her cell phone and dialled up your phone, knowing you would do her odd request without thinking twice. She needed you to pick up Oz from school that instant, to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally hear the claims. She wished for you to keep her offline until she got home. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as the both of you stayed in the house and kept off the internet. This resulted in the two of you playing on your old Nintendo Wii that you wired up onto your office monitor.
Little did the two know that the girlfriend in charge of the school had received dozens of phone calls about the news reports, parents questioning if their children were safe and benefactors questioning if their money would be better spent elsewhere. Cordelia assured them that all matters will be dealt with and assured them that the students were safe at the school as they have always been.
Cordelia came down to inform you of what’s been happening when she spotted Oz with you. What she was going to say, now put on pause until the boy was out of earshot.
“What game are you two playing?” Cordelia asked as if it wasn’t obvious that they were playing Mario kart. Oz answered the question, momentary taking his attention off the game allowing you to get past his cart and gain first place. Oz huffed, claiming that it wasn’t far, but you laughed and said he was making up excuses.
“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Sure thing De. Oz you pick the next game,” You said tossing your controller onto your cushioned desk chair. The boy perched on the edge of the medical cot jumped off the bed and shuffled through the box of games you’d brought down from the attic. “Take your time, I’ll be back in a second.” He acknowledged what you said before continuing to search for the best two player game he could bet you at.
Your girlfriend escorted you out of the room, shutting the door behind the both of you.
“What’s up?”
“Oz is home early,” Cordelia stated.
“What? Did he ruin your idea of a mid-day make out session?” You kidded. You caught that Cordelia didn’t play back. Your first response was, “Ally asked me to pick him up-”
“I came to inform you that I’ve been receiving phone calls all day from worried parents-”
“And?”
“A news article has come out accusing Ally of killing her ex.”
“Did she?” Cordelia remained quiet. All that the blonde had been told was that the woman (Ally’s ex) was out of the both of their lives. “I mean if she did it wouldn’t change much-”
“How's that?”
“All the school's staff have either killed or sent someone to their death. Zoe’s killed; Queenie’s killed. Some of our students find out that their witches after someone gets in the crossfire. We’re all as bad if not worse. Ally seems like the type to have a reason and I’d like to hear it- again, assuming the accusations correct.”
Cordelia couldn’t argue with that, you were right. The possibility of Ally killing someone did throw Cordelia for a loop, she’d never expected something like that from the woman and she would have liked to have known for in case something like this accord. There wasn’t much they could do now except wait for Ally to come home and explain everything.
“I’ll make sure no one brings it up in the school and organise a time for us all to sit down and talk about it.”
“Maybe after Oz has gone to bed.” Cordelia hummed at the idea, her mind flicking through a list of ideas to sort this out. “I don’t want to be a worrywart but what if they want to investigate and take Oz away from her-”
“Then he can stay with us.” Ally didn’t have any external family besides Oz and school. Her marriage didn’t go down well with either Allyson’s or Ivy’s parents causing them to cut ties completely. “However, Ally might have to go away for a bit. If it gets serious, she won’t be able to be around the school without causing drama.” You hated to imagine a world where you couldn’t be with the two people you love. But sacrifices had to be made.
“Let's hope it doesn't come down to that.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I have to go back inside.”
“I’ll let you go.” Cordelia pulled you in for a quick peck, but you wanted more. You pulled her into a long kiss.
You both missed the door open. “Eww~” Oz whined. The two of you pulled apart, the both of you chuckling. “Gross.”
“Well now that we’re done scarring the kid, wanna join us?”
“I can’t, I have to deal with work stuff,” Cordelia cleared her throat trying to hint at what she was talking about without saying it in front of the boy.
“Alright, I’ll see you later,” you said. You mouthed to her, “Everything will be alright.”
She mouthed back, “I know.”
At the end of the day, the safety of the coven was her number one concern, if her love life got in the way of the safety of her girls then she’d have to let go of love. Ally wasn’t a witch, not that she wasn’t any less a member of the school, no one thought twice about her presence, some of the students assumed that she too was a witch just didn’t perform magic in front of them for whatever reason. It would devastate all if she’d get torn away from the others and you knew for a fact that some of the girls would do anything to get her back, if not for themselves than their headmistress and you.
Time flew by as the two of you played Super smash bros, you never noticed it was almost dinner time until one of the students came to fetch you. You and Oz spoke about his friend James and all the games he owned.
“Can we get one?” Oz said after talking about all the games he played at his friend’s house on the newest Nintendo console.
“A Nintendo Switch?” Oz nodded. “I don’t know how your mum will feel about that.” He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes. “I suppose, if we say it’s mine, she can’t stop me from buying it.” He cheered and thanked you. You chuckled at his reaction and said, “Don’t get too excited, I haven’t bought it yet.”
The knocking on the office door snapped you out of your gaming groove. The door opened revealing said student who came to get you for dinner. Before you could ask her if she were alright, she told you the meal would be served in five and you’d be dining alone tonight. You rose your brow but remained silent. What was Cordelia up to?
After packing up the game, the two of you headed to the dining room where you met said student from before. She had to be the most inexpressive person you’d ever met. She informed you that your meal would be served in the kitchen on the circular table. Oz looked at her confused, him too wondering why you were eating elsewhere from the other stuff and students. Oz complained, wanting to talk to you some more but you told him that you can chat after. You truthfully didn’t know if you would, confused on why you were being isolated from the rest. You didn’t mind the silence at first, it was peaceful until the noise from the dining room picked up. Then you felt like you were missing out on something. You were halfway through your plate when someone sat down. You were two focused on the plate and your own thoughts that you didn’t bother to look up at who it was.
“I thought I was dining alone,” you said picking up a piece of salad. You looked up to find Ally sitting in front of you. “I thought you were going to be Cordelia.”
“I haven’t spoken to her yet. How dead am I?”
“Not as dead as your wife.”
“Y/n-"
“She wants to talk about it later,” you paused. “Did you?”
“Would it change the way you see me?” That’s a yes then.
“No.”
“Yes. I promise I had no ill intent-” You scoffed at the ‘ill intent’. “I was protecting my family.” You stopped immediately. Family?
“How so? By killing one of your own? Did she try and hurt Oz or something?”
“Indirectly, but yes. It’s best if I wait until Cordelia’s here.”
“Will be she be dinning us too?”
“I thought she would be dinning already.”
“She’s probably caught up with work. You’ve been quite the buzz as of late, everyone wants to give their two sense about you.”
“People really care that much?”
“Your rumour is bad for 'business', as it were. Founders and parents are calling up complaining. It probably won’t stop until we come up with a solution to save your reputation.”
“We?”
“You’re one of us now. As long as you associate with us, you’re protected under this coven.” Your words comfort Ally. She knows that you didn’t just mean her but her son as well.
“Thank you for picking up Oz, again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Your welcome.” You sat in silence for a few tossing and turning over something you wanted to repeat Ally. “I wanted to repeat something I said to Cordelia earlier, all staff here have been partially involved in someone’s death. It’s not uncommon for death to happen in our coven and as long as you follow our one rule, you’re fine with us.” You didn’t say murder in case someone was eavesdropping. [The one rule, don’t (purposely) kill a witch or warlock in the coven.]
“Have you?” She knew Cordelia had, she told her that she was forced to burn Myrtle. A woman that all the staff members were fond of, but Cordelia wasn’t allowed to bring back due to being requested not to.
“Hmm?”
“Killed anyone?”
You glanced down at your plate. You spoke in the quietest voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ally left it alone. It surprised her even more than it did with Cordelia to learn that you killed someone. You were a doctor, your amendment to help people, you’ve dedicated your life to helping the sick. You had a gift and you used it for the greater good. A part of her hoped it was just a mistake while operating, you had been a surgeon for a while or at least so she had heard. You’d bounced around positions in the hospital so many times, she can’t remember what you did and for how long. If an accident caused you this much grief, then she wished you shot someone.
The two’s silence was interrupted by the clinking of high heels on the floor.
“Delia?” Ally guessed. She’d be the only one not eating now so you gave a weak nod. A few seconds later you spotted the woman at the archway. She got a sense for the room, noticing your uncomfortableness immediately. She put it down to the other woman who had spun around on the Supreme’s arrival. “Cordelia.”
“Allyson.” Ally cursed under her breath.
“Y/n.” You turned your attention to your girlfriend. You hummed. “What are you doing out eating out here?”
“Didn’t you want me to-” You noticed the confused expression on the blonde’s face. Maybe Ally wanted you to sit out here so she could talk to without her son around and before Cordelia got to her.
“After you're both done dinner, I want you in my office,” She announced.
“What about you? Are you going to have dinner?”
“I’ll have it later.” She was gone a second later.
“Well I better tell Oz I want be playing video games with him tonight.”
You left your dinner and left to speak to Ally’s son.
In Cordelia’s office, Ally told you both the events leading up to the murder of her ex-wife Ivy. At the time of the 2016 presidential election, Ally’s phobias resurfaced. However, Ally avoids taking her medication and suffers a series of hallucinations in the form of a group of clowns intending to kill her. When the hallucinations happen again at The Butchery on Main, Ivy realizes that Ally is not taking her medication and forces her to take them. She goes on about their replacement babysitter, a woman named Winter Anderson and the murder of Ally and her Ex’s friends Tom and Marilyn Chang. She went on about clown attacks and how she accidentally shot Pedro, a Mexican staff member at her work. This was seen as a racially motivated homicide throughout her suburb in Michigan. She managed to clear her name. She found out her wife was in the cult terrorising the town (which Ally joined). Ally tells them how she poisons Ivy with arsenic in order to have Oz all to herself. She talked up until she and Oz moved to New Orleans, she got job as Senator and met Cordelia and later you.
Cordelia took a second to take in the story she had heard, trying to imagine pain and stress Ally went through to keep Oz safe. She did not know what she would do if she was in her boat. Cordelia was content with the story. “We need to figure out who brought this back to the surface.”
“I don’t have any enemies that would know about any of that, all the ex-cult members are dead.”
“Yet someone is after you,” you said.
“Whoever they are, they are sending me letters in parts”
“The letter you got the other day, was that one of them?” Ally nodded. “Do you still have them?”
“Destroyed them.”
“Nothing Is destroyed when you live with a group of witches.”
“The first would be at the garage tip by now.”
“Do you remember what they said?” You said. Ally nodded. You fetched a notepad and pen, “Good, write them down. And Ally, next time you get one show us, we might be able to use it to track the person down.” Ally silently agreed.
It didn’t take long for the next one to show up. It was only the next day. Ally didn’t bother going into work.
Your job would be over and your girlfriends’ couldn’t keep you around the school could they? A murder would wreck the school’s reputation.
The three stood around the opened letter. Ally in the desk chair and the other two peering over her shoulders.
"They know about you," Ally said to you. You were lost in my head, trying to figure out who would know. To the best of your knowledge, only the schoolgirls knew even how much Oz knew was questionable. As far as you were aware you were just an extremely close friend of his mother's.
"Impossible," Cordelia said. They had all made sure no one knew- mainly due to the short time you'd been going out and due to your age difference. Also, the fact that you had been a student here and people might make horrible and untrue comments about your girlfriend. And not to being on how the public would think if the polyamorous relationship.
"Have you told any-"
"No! No one knows except our girls. You don't think-"
"Couldn't be," Cordelia said.
"Should we track it?" You asked Cordelia.
"We should think through it carefully first," Ally added her two cents. "We don't know who we are dealing with or if it's a trap and the world knows that this is a witch school so they may have taken extra precautions."
"Y/n,"
"Hmm~"
"Set aside materials for a tracking spell."
You gathered all the materials you needed, including the letter they handed over to you after they had photocopied it for evidence. They trusted you to put it aside somewhere safe, unbeknownst to them, you had different plans. You’d performed the spell yourself and 7 hours later you found yourself in Atlanta, Georgia, standing outside the Delphi Trust building.
You had learned about this corporation a long time ago, only learning of the dirty truth behind it in the last 18 months. The Delphi Trust was an asset management company that served as a front for an ancient order of witch hunters that were known for using blessed silver bullets to kill witches. As far as you're aware, the company no longer was associated with witch hunting after the previous owners were murdered in the middle of a meeting. But with all sources pointing to the letter’s origins coming from here, what you thought was wrong.
You should have turned back or notified Cordelia your findings but you already snuck out and you knew she would only scold you and tell you to wait until you had back up. Your phone was bound to have 100 missed calls and messages. She’d probably be begging one of the tech savvy students to help her track down your phone's GPS signal.
Adjusting your bandana to ensure it covered the lowered part of your face, you teleported past the front doors. You flinched expecting motion sensors to go off, but nothing sounded, almost as if they anticipated your arrival.
You scoured the building for anything interesting. No one was on the premise which raised more alarms in your head. It was overly a trap and you knew it was possible passing one of these corners could send a silver bullet straight through you. Killing you would be easy; they could explain it as trespassing and it would be as good as done. They wouldn’t mess with Ally and the coven if they wanted to shoot you. Maybe they wouldn’t shoot you because you aren’t Ally, who the threat was targeted for, they could be expecting her. That wouldn’t explain the security system.
You reached a room lined with office desks and seating. All desks had personal items assigned to whoever’s desk it was, photos of people and their families, to go cups left on the occasional desk and the level of organization shifted from table to table.
One desk stood out, rested on the table was a brown archive box with the lid removed. It was the type of box that people pack their belongings in when they get fired in tv shows. It strikes you as odd, so you crept closer to survey its contents.
Inside was a knitted baby blanket. You cocked your brow, removing the blanket from the box. You played with the fabric in your hands as you unfolded it. It was as if it had been drowned in fabric softener for years. As you moved the fabric about, you noticed the name Odelia embroidered in ribbon on it. You traced the lettering with your finger before casting your eyeline down to the box.
Underneath were the blanket once was, a wedding band and a note sat. You slipped the ring into your pocket before choosing to read the note. Happy anniversary. “Shit!” You swore as you dropped the card, glancing around to see if anyone was around. You searched the person's desk finding no personal items. “Fucking god.” You slammed your hands into the desk, eyeing the box once more. Whoever planned this, expected you’d be the one to come. Whoever did this knew more about you than you’d like. Worse part of all of this, you didn’t find out who was troubling Ally. All you knew is she wasn’t the main target, or at least only.
You grabbed the blanket and dashed out of the building, missing the message on the other side of the note. See you soon x.
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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years ago
Text
No More
A Stitched Story
JSE Fanfic
We’ve reached the season finale! However, this is not the series finale. Just thought I’d say that right here since it could be interpreted that way. I’m tired and don’t have a lot of brain room for summaries, but suffice to say, everyone confronts Anti again. Cause that bitch has been avoiding them, but now he’s come back with a plan. Cool stuff happens. Action! Excitement! Again I am tired and this doesn’t make sense, but I hope you like it anyway!
Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.
Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One
Previous season two stories: No Strings on Me | Nightmare World | Normalcy | The Notion of The End | Nobody’s Home | Nevermore | New Places
Taglist (finally): @bupine​ @violet--majesty​
The summer days were growing short again. Weeks had passed since Chase, Jack, and JJ had gone to hide out with Stacy and the kids, and now it was a month away from school starting again. There had been no sign of Schneep, and Jack wouldn’t lie: he was really worried about that. Luckily, he had something to take his mind off of that for right now.
“Okay, just across the room, no support from walls,” Jack said, crossing the living room to stand on the other side across from Jameson.
JJ hesitated, unsure. Can I use support if I start to fall?
“Yeah, of course. I’ll also be ready to catch you if you start to lose it.”
JJ sighed through his mask, and leaned away the wall he’d been supporting himself on. He wobbled slightly, then slowly started walking across the room. Jack watched, tensing every time JJ stumbled. But after a few minutes, JJ got into a rhythm, and soon made it to the other side. As soon as he was able, he grabbed Jack for support.
“Great!” Jack said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “You’re still limping, but you’re getting faster. How’s it feel?”
Still twinges a bit, JJ admitted. It was a bit awkward as he was trying to keep hold of Jack while signing. But infinitely better.
“That’s great, real great.” Jack nodded. “You want to stop or keep going?”
We can stop, it’s fine, JJ said. He reached over and grabbed a cane leaning against the wall. It was a cheap metal model that Stacy had bought online once she’d realized JJ was having trouble walking. She’d grumbled a bit about how nobody was telling her what had caused this, but Jameson had been thankful anyway.
“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jack let Jameson walk over to the nearest chair on his own, making sure he got there safely before ducking out of the room and into the dining room.
Chase was in there, sitting at the table with his two daughters, markers and construction paper scattered about the surface. Lily was happily scribbling on a piece of green paper, while Moira was carefully cutting multicolored paper into strips and looping them through each other, making a paper chain as she stapled the loops closed.
“Dad, look!” Lily held up her drawing.
“Oh, very nice!” Chase said, smiling. “It’s a puppy, right?”
“It’s a pega-puppy, half pegasus, half puppy!” Lily said cheerfully. “I’m gonna make a uni-puppy too. They will be friends.”
“Nice, I look forward to meeting them.” Chase looked over to see Jack standing in the doorway. “Oh. Hey bro, didn’t see you there.”
“Hi Uncle Jack!” Lily waved.
Moira looked up briefly from her paper chain. “Hi.”
“Hey girls,” Jack said, waving. “Just checking on the three of you. How’re you doing?”
“Oh, we’re good.” Chase’s voice was very upbeat. “We’re doing arts and crafts to surprise Mom when she gets home from work.” 
“Cool. Good luck with that.” Jack glanced out the window. The sun was still high in the sky. “I’m...going to go take a walk.”
“Wait, by yourself?” Chase’s cheerful expression dropped a bit. “Are you sure? What about—” He glanced at the girls. “—the bad guy?”
“We haven’t seen him for a month now, not since we...you know, found out.” Jack tried to shrug casually. “I think it’s alright.”
“Maybe he’s just waiting for one of us to be alone,” Chase said, now fully worried. He stood up. “Look, I’ll just come with—”
“No, it’s fine, you keep having fun,” Jack hurried to say. “I’ll be back in an hour, I just...want to look for Schneep again.”
“I really don’t think you should—”
“Chase, it’s fine,” Jack said firmly. “I won’t go too far.” Even though that could possibly impede his search, if he stuck to familiar places, but who knows? Maybe Schneep would have wandered into the area. “Look at your kids, they’re so excited. You should stay with them.”
Chase slowly sat back down. “Be careful,” he said. “Take my...you-know-what, if you need to. It’s in the bedroom.”
“I will. See you later.”
Jack found the gun right where Chase said it would be, in the dresser drawer by the bed. He did stick to close-by areas. The walk was partially a search for Schneep, but if he had to be honest with himself, Jack...didn’t think any of them would be able to find Schneep. They’d been looking for a month, and had yet to even pick up a hint of him. For all they knew, Schneep might’ve vanished off the face of the earth.
But Jack didn’t even voice those concerns to himself. Surely if he went out looking one more time he could find him. Maybe just one more time would help. Maybe just one more time.
But of course, there was nothing.
— — — — — — —
Later that evening, Chase made dinner (which is to say, mac ‘n’ cheese for everyone), Stacy came home and put on a movie for the kids in the living room, and the three men gathered together in the bedroom: Chase lying on the bed, Jack sitting on the floor, and JJ taking the chair from the desk. “So, uh...how’d it go?” Chase asked. “The walk, I mean, Jack.”
“It was alright,” Jack said. “I mean, I didn’t find anything. But I didn’t run into you-know-who either.”
Voldemort? JJ asked, amused.
“Ha ha. No, you know what I mean,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.
Chase exhaled slowly. “Okay, that’s good. But, like, we should come up with a plan for if we see him again.”
I thought we had one of those, JJ said, confused.
“I mean, like, if we run into him while we’re alone. ‘Cause you know, that changes the whole plan.”
JJ sighed. Chase, while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about the plan.
Chase laughed nervously. “What about it?”
It’s just...are we sure this will...have the result we want? JJ asked delicately.
“I don’t see why it won’t,” Chase said. “Jack pulled out the soul...string...thing once before, he can do it again. And An—he’ll go poof, just like last time.”
Alright, that makes sense, JJ said. But...are we sure that we can destroy it?
“Well, I don’t know, do you think we can do that, Mr. Magic Man?” Chase asked.
Jack piped up. “I have seen your Dr. Strange magic cut through some of his strings before. If your magic is focused on helping people, just think about how getting rid of him will help all of us.”
That string wasn’t an ordinary string, Jameson protested. It’s more likely that it’s the remains of whatever black magic is holding him together. My magic might not be up for the task. He paused. And besides...even if it does, are we sure that...what we expect to happen...will happen?
Chase narrowed his eyes, and sat up. “What d’you mean?”
Jameson leaned back in the chair. All I’m saying is that...we don’t know that Marvin and Jackie will return if we destroy the string.
“It makes sense that they would,” Chase protested. “I mean, I would argue that their bodies are, y’know, buried and worse, but last time they somehow came back anyway. This spell is what made them...like this, so if we get rid of the spell, it would undo it.”
But that’s just a guess, Chase. Jameson was trying to sign gently, eyes sympathetic above his mask. There’s no solid knowledge that this will happen.
“There’s no solid knowledge about any of this! This is whole new magic territory, apparently!”
“Well, we have to try, don’t we?” Jack interrupted.
I’m not saying we don’t try, Jameson said.
“Kinda sounds like you are,” Chase mumbled.
All I’m saying is that we’re expecting to get them back the same way they apparently were before. But realistically, black magic of this magnitude would leave effects. The transference spell is already extremely destructive, and now it’s gone wrong, leaving any number of side effects.
“Anti is the side effect!” Chase shouted, getting to his feet. “We’re trying to get rid of him!”
Actually, Chase, I think you’re trying to get your friends back, Jameson said.
Silence. Chase went white, gaping. Jack stood up, looking between the two of them before going to stand by Chase. He started to reach out, but stopped. “Alright,” Chase said quietly. “So what if I am? So what if I am?! I want my best friends back, sue me for that! And we have a chance to try and get them, try to have everything go back to normal after the shit storm our lives have been! So what if I want that?!” His voice cracked.
There’s nothing wrong with that, Jameson signed slowly. But...we shouldn’t be expecting anything. There’s a high likelihood that they won’t come back. And if they do, they won’t be the same.
“I’m trying to be optimistic!”
No, you’re refusing to accept the possibility of failure! Jameson suddenly signed sharply.
“Um, guys?” Jack said. “Maybe—”
“I’m hoping that my friends come back!” Chase shouted, tears rising to his eyes. “What would you know about that?! You didn’t know them! You didn’t even have friends before we came along, Jameson Jackson!”
If silence fell before, here it crashed down. Tension filled the air, thick enough to almost be visible. Jameson stared at Chase with wide eyes. Jack gaped at Chase, his expression similar. To his credit, Chase immediately realized what he’d done, and his face grew even whiter. “JJ...I—I didn’t mean—”
Jameson pushed to his feet. With the help of his cane, he walked over to the doorway. Before leaving, he turned back around, leaning against the doorframe. Say what you will, Chase, he signed coldly. Perhaps you’re right, and I’m being callous because I never knew either of them. But just be sure. Be sure you’re prepared for whatever this plan will give you. Be prepared for them to be hollow shells like they were that week after we first defeated him. Be prepared for them to be completely different and foreign, even hostile. Be prepared for them to NOT BE THERE AT ALL. Jameson paused. If you’re prepared for all of that, then I’ll be confident trying our plan. He turned and left without another word.
Chase remained frozen for a few long seconds. Then, silently he started to cry. “I...I didn’t mean...oh fuck.” He buried his face in his hands. “Oh fuck, I fucked up.”
Jack looked like he wanted to agree, but didn’t say anything.
“I-I should go say something, right? I should go apologize. I-I didn’t mean it.” Despite saying this, Chase didn’t move from the spot. His feet remained rooted to the ground.
“Maybe not right now...” Jack suggested. “You’re both...a little heated, take some time to cool down. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Yeah...yeah, that sounds good.” Chase lifted his face from his hands, his eyes rimmed with red. “I’ll...go...take a nap. Or something.”
“Oh. Uh...well, this is your room, so I’ll...go, then.” Jack sidled away, heading for the door. He glanced back at Chase, to see he still hadn’t moved.
“Hey...Jack,” Chase said, noticing his hesitation. “You...you do think there’s a chance, right? That we’ll get them back?”
Jack was quiet for a long time. “I think...that there’s a way.  If you forced me to choose—which, let’s be honest, I kind of am being, here—the plan we have is our best shot at getting them back. Maybe...” He paused a moment, thinking. “..maybe they won’t be exactly the same. But we’ll be there to help them.” Another pause. “But there is a chance...it won’t...”
Chase didn’t react to that, aside from a slight stiffening. Jack stayed hovering in the doorway, waiting for something else. When it never came, he simply left, closing the door behind him.
In the hallway now, Jack sighed, pressing his forehead against the wall. For a moment, he stayed there, feeling the weight of everything press down on him. He was...tired. And tense. And he guessed the others felt much the same.
— — — — — — —
The next morning was a quiet one. Stacy took the kids to the park, perhaps sensing the leftover tension and deciding to get out of the way. Still, it was almost an hour after they left, and Chase and JJ had yet to interact again after the fight yesterday. It got to the point where Jack cornered each of them separately and told them to meet him in the kitchen.
Of course, once each of them got there and saw the other, things got awkward real quick. The two of them sat on either side of the kitchen table with Jack at the head in between them.
“So...” Jack said, clearing his throat. “I think...people...we...you guys need to talk?”
In case you haven’t noticed, that’s impossible, JJ remarked.
Jack winced. “You know what I mean. Yesterday was...hard for all of us.”
“Jays, you know I didn’t mean it,” Chase blurted out. “I-I was just...upset because...” He waved his hands vaguely. “I guess just—i-it was enough finding out that Marvin and Jackie are...him. I-I’m still not...anyway, it was just like you were...I mean, it’s not impossible, right? Which it kind of...felt like you were saying. You know?”
JJ stayed silent. Jack tried very hard not to facepalm. He could tell that could’ve gone better, even if he didn’t have Jameson’s reaction to go by.
Before anyone could say anything else, the front door of the house opened and slammed shut. “Chase?!” Stacy shouted.
Chase cursed under his breath, then stood up. “I’ll be back,” he said, leaving to go back into the living room.
Stacy was standing in the middle of the room, purse clutched tight to her chest, and her face very pale. “Chase, where are Lily and Moira?”
“What? Aren’t they with you?” Chase asked.
“They were! Now I don’t know where the hell they are!” Stacy threw her purse down onto the couch. She blinked back furious tears. “They were on the playground, Moira was pushing Lily on the swings. I went to buy a bottle of water, they were within earshot, it was fine, and then I turn around and they were gone! Where the hell are our kids, Chase?!”
Chase couldn’t answer. He backed up into the nearest chair and collapsed, shaking slightly.
Jack poked his head into the room. He immediately looked like he wanted to back away, but then he noticed Chase. “What happened?” he asked, stepping fully into the room.
Chase covered his mouth with his hand, pulling at his bandanna with the the other. He shook his head.
Stacy looked between the two of them. “What’s going on?!”
“I knew this would happen...” Chase choked out. “I shouldn’t have come here, I-I didn’t want to involve you, a-and now look what’s happened!”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jack asked softly. Behind him, JJ also appeared, leaning on the door frame.
“He has my fucking kids,” Chase said, a sob ripping out of his throat.
“What?!” Jack rushed over to Chase’s side. “No no no, he can’t! He’s never involved anyone but us!”
“They’re gone, Jack!” Chase cried. “It was only t-time before h-he went after someone we knew...to get to us...we ne-never should’ve come here!”
“Oh shit.” Jack paled. “No no no, this is okay, we’ll go get them back!”
“That’s what he’ll be expecting,” Chase whispered. 
Suddenly, a buzzing noise came from Stacy’s purse. She frowned, walking over to where it was on the couch and picking it up again. Digging around in it, she pulled out her phone and checked the screen. Her eyes widened. “I just got a text from an unknown number,” she said in a hushed voice.
“What’s it say?” Jack asked tentatively. Chase looked down, holding his head in his hands.
“‘I want my puppet back,’“ Stacy read out loud. “‘You know where to go. All of you can come, if you want, but if you try anything’...” She swallowed nervously. “‘...you can say goodbye to the girls. You have until noon.’ Holy shit...”
“We gotta do it,” Chase mumbled. His fingers bunched his hair, pulling it. “We gotta go. They’re just kids...”
Jack glanced over at Jameson, who’d been standing quietly the whole time. Jameson looked at him as well, and nodded. I agree...we can’t let anything happen to them. But we can’t go in without a plan, of some sorts.
“You mean...the plan?” Jack asked.
Jameson paused then shook his head. I don’t know. Maybe that would be too risky. But this’ll be the third time we go into his territory, it would be foolish to not have some sort of fail-safe in case...he doesn’t keep his word.
“What if we just did it?” Chase asked. “What if we just went through with it, a-and you guys came back for me later? I lasted five months, it can’t be too—”
“Chase, holy shit, no!” Jack cried, aghast. “You’re not going back there!”
“Wait, what?” Stacy suddenly asked.
“Long story,” Jack said to her. “And, uh...not my place.” He looked down at Chase, but he didn’t seem in the mood to explain anything right now. “The point is, there are a million better options before we go...there.”
“Do you think he’d really hurt them?” Chase asked dully. “I mean...since he’s actually them. Do you think any part of them would do something like that? I know Marv didn’t like kids much, but he was always nice to them, at least.”
We can’t take the chance, JJ said, shaking his head. He brushed away his bracelets to check his wristwatch. It’s nearly eleven o’clock, he said we only have until noon. We need to hurry.
“Hold on!” Stacy held up her hands, asking them to stop. “You’re all talking about this as if I’m not here! You know, their mother? Whatever you’re doing to get them back, I’m going with you!”
“Stace, no...” Chase said softly, a sort of whimper in his voice. “You can’t get involved in this...then the kids will have nowhere safe to go.”
“I’m sick of you not telling me anything!” Stacy insisted. “Stop talking over me!”
Chase didn’t respond, just kept his eyes fixed down in his lap. Jack cleared his throat. “Stacy...I get it, this is awful. But...well, he has a point. After we get the kids back, we...we should leave. So nothing else happens.”
Stacy looked between the three men, gaping. None of them would meet her eyes. Her gaze lingered on Chase, who was still resolutely not looking up. For a moment, her expression softened. “I’m not an idiot,” she said, though the words lacked bite. “I know this is dangerous. I can tell something’s happened. You...you don’t have the energy you used to, Chase.” She paused, waiting for a response that never came. “I just can’t sit by while the kids are in danger. I want to be...involved.”
“Understandable,” Chase muttered. “But please, please don’t. Just...don’t.”
Saying nothing, Stacy picked her purse back up and walked past Jameson, vanishing down the hall.
“God, this is all going to hell,” Jack muttered.
No shit, Jack, Jameson said, eliciting a slight gasp from the other two at the unexpected language. Look, can we just focus on the current situation? We only have an hour to plan, and it’ll take forty minutes to walk to his lair. 
Jack sighed. “Alright, everyone, let’s talk this over...”
Fifteen minutes later, the three of them walked out of the house, starting down the sidewalk towards the now-familiar location of Anti’s hideout. The plan they’d concocted still wasn’t solid; it was more of a rough outline than anything, relying on the one they’d already discussed, with the promise that they’d wing it if anything came up. Which, honestly, did not inspire any of them with much confidence.
— — — — — — —
Things had changed. Though Anti’s lair was still located in the same abandoned building, though the stairs inside still led down to a hallway lit red...things had changed. It was something in the air, something sharp, like ozone. Something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Walking down the hallway, Jack, Chase, and Jameson found themselves huddling together.
“We’re all ready?” Jack muttered. “Do we need to review anything?” Neither Chase nor JJ responded, so he kept talking. “Remember, we’re going to look like we’re agreeing, but we’re not, so don’t be worried, Chase.”
“I’m not,” Chase said automatically.
“JJ, you’re ready with your magic? Both to protect and go after the string thingy when I—”
Yes, Jack, Jameson signed quickly. Now be careful what you say.
Jack decided to stop talking.
The hallway didn’t twist and turn or connect to other hallways. Instead of the maze the hideout had been the last two times, the corridor opened up into a big, circular room. Red lightbulbs in the ceiling lit up most things, though there were shadows around the edges. The floor and walls were concrete, making it look rather like a large basement. And in the middle of the room, three figures were sitting on the floor. The kids, of course, and...
They knew it was Anti. But that didn’t stop Jack and Chase from freezing when they saw him.
Lily, chattering about something, was the first to look up and notice the three who’d just come in. She waved. “Hi Dad!” She seemed completely unconcerned about everything. Moira, on the other hand, was more aware. She had her arms wrapped around Lily, holding her close to her chest, her shoulders and expression tense.
Anti looked over at the group. He smiled, and stood up. “Oh hello there. So nice of you to show up. Though a little earlier would’ve been better, instead of waiting until the last minute. Literally. 11:59′s pushing it a bit, isn’t it?” He laughed. “Well? Come in, come closer.”
The three of them looked at each other. Jameson clutched Jack’s arm, half-leaning on him. Chase swallowed visibly. Silently, they took a few steps into the room, getting halfway to Anti before they all decided to stop.
“Though, maybe I don’t mind as much,” Anti continued nonchalantly. “Gives me more time with these cuties. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we?”
Lily nodded, giggling. “Yeah, Uncle Jackie.”
Moira didn’t answer, merely held her sister closer. She was old enough to know that if you went to a funeral for someone, that meant they weren’t coming back.
Anti smiled widely. It was unnerving, how close it was to the way Jackie would smile. But there was something...off about it. Just enough to set someone on edge. “Well...unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.” Anti shoved his hands inside the pocket of the red hoodie he wore, and turned to look at the others. “And I need to talk to your dad.”
“Aw, do we gotta? It’s been so long,” Lily pouted. Moira, still holding her, stood up, pulling her sister along.
Chase cleared his throat. “H-hey Lils? Moira? Why don’t you...come over here?”
“Why don’t y̶̴͠ơu͏ come over h̸er͟e, Chase?” Anti asked. He gestured to the kids. “Don’t you want to talk to them for a while?”
Chase paled further, his face now white. He looked back at the other two. As a group, they started to walk closer.
After a while, Anti held up a hand. “That’s close enough, you two,” he said, eyes landing on Jack and JJ. “I only want to talk to Chase.”
“A-are you—” Jack started to ask something, but then Jameson squeezed his arm, cutting him off. He gave him a look that said ‘be careful.’
“Am I sure? Yes, I’m sure.” Anti grinned. For a moment, his eyes flickered green. “Now, come cl̶os͢er̛.”
Chase hesitated, then closed the distance. Once he was close enough, he knelt down on the ground to be eye-level with the kids. “Hey, girls,” he said gently. “How are you?”
“We’re fine, Dad,” Moira said tensely. Lily nodded along.
“That’s great.” Chase tried to smile. “Well, Mom was really nervous, you know? She didn’t know you were leaving.”
“Really? Uncle Jackie said she said it was okay,” Lily said, confused.
“Well, maybe she didn’t expect you to be gone so long,” Chase said softly. “It’s time to go home now, before she starts worrying. You go with Uncle Jack and JJ, okay? I’ll stay here and talk with...Jackie.”
“Alright, Dad. We’re going.” Moira shuffled to the side, away from Anti, taking Lily with her. Once she’d shuffled around Chase, she let go of Lily and grabbed her hand, running the rest of the distance to Jack and Jameson. 
Before Chase could stand up, Anti settled a hand down on top of his shoulder, preventing him from getting up. “Well?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “You heard him, it’s time for all of you to go home. If you stay any longer, something might hap͠p̡e̴n̶. Give us some privacy to talk, huh?”
Jack reached down and took Moira’s other hand. He nodded slowly, and started backing up, bringing the rest of the group with him. Briefly, his left eye flickered closed, activating his soul vision. Chase and JJ’s were the same as ever. The kids had soul lights as well—iris for Moira, peach for Lily—shining brighter than any other lights in the room. And Anti’s soul was still a mess, red and blue shards meshed together and tangled with green string. But...was it just his imagination, or did the mess of shards look somehow...looser?
Anti and Chase watched as Jack, Jameson, and the kids retreated, staring at them until they disappeared into the doorway. Once they were out of sight, Anti grabbed Chase by the bandanna and pulled him up. Chase choked in surprise. “Hello again, p͢͡u̴p̸͞p͝ę̛͝t,” Anti said cheerfully. His form flickered, and the disguise of Jackie fell away like unraveling fabric, revealing Anti as the others had always known him. “I m̢͏í̛͞s̴̢s̴e͏̵d̢̕͝ you.”
Chase didn’t respond. He reached up and tried to loosen Anti’s hold on his bandanna, but his grip was firm, and it was pulling the knot tighter.
“Oh?” Anti grabbed Chase’s wrist with his other hand. He squeezed it. Chase stiffened. Then his body went limp, his eyes dull. Anti smiled. “That’s b̨̢̀et͟t̨̨eŗ̸̨. You can do without these wristbands, you kn—”
A disc of blue light whirled towards Anti, slicing across his arms. Anti yelled, and dropped Chase, who fell to the ground unmoving. Spinning around, he saw Jack and Jameson standing in the doorway, glaring at him identically. Jack held a kitchen knife in one hand, and Jameson had two of his magic circles balancing on his fingers. Some ways into the hall behind them, there was another blue glow, the same shade as Jameson’s magic.
Anti scowled, but suddenly, smiled. “Clever, clever. I should’ve k͠ńo͠͏̡w̸n you weren’t going to g҉o ͢͞t̴̕h͟ro͢uģh̷ with this.” He tilted his head. “But then again, maybe I͞ ͇̻̦̟̣̣͡d̖͈͡i̼͖͟d͍̦̹͎.̥”
His eyes suddenly glazed over with static, red on his left and blue on his right. White noise filled the air as he raised his hands, and slammed them downward. The ground rumbled, and cracks shot across the floor, cutting through the concrete, forming a line between Anti and Chase, and Jack and Jameson. Anti grinned, holding his hands out again, close together. Slowly, he made a motion like he was pulling something apart, glitches and static racking his form. The ground shook again. Jameson fell to the floor with a muffled cry, and Jack leaned against the wall to keep from doing the same. The cracks in the floor widened, and slowly, the part of the room Anti was standing on started drifting away from the other half, leaving a widening crevice behind, dropping down into blackness.
“Shit!” Jack cried. He rushed forward. The ground rumbled again, and he fell hard as it lurched beneath his feet. The knife clattered against the concrete.
Jameson lifted himself into a kneeling position, and flung out a hand. Blue light attached itself to either edge of the crevice, sticky strands made of runes forming a rough bridge. Anti scowled, and once again made the pulling-apart gesture. The room shook, slowly at first, then rising into a violent quake. The two sides strained to pull away. Jameson reached out with both hands, clenching his fists like he was physically holding the room together. The strands of magic multiplied and dug into the ground. Jameson caught Jack’s eye and gestured with his head towards the magic bridge.
Jack climbed to his feet, grabbing the kitchen knife. He ran towards the bridge. He skidded to a halt once he reached the edge of the ravine. He glanced down, and paled. “Chase!” He shouted.
On the other side of the ravine, Chase stirred, and weakly tried to get up. But Anti noticed. He stepped on Chase’s back, pushing him back down. Static running along his limbs, breaking them apart, Anti made the pulling-apart gesture one more time.
The room shook, bucking and heaving. Jack stumbled, almost falling headfirst into the ravine before backing up. Jameson fell onto his side. A few strands of the magic bridge snapped. Jameson reached out again, his eyes flaring brighter blue. The bridge repaired itself, more strands appearing, but it was taunt. Jameson was shivering, beads of sweat trailing down his face as he fought to keep the room together.
Jack took a deep breath, and ran forward, stepping onto the magic bridge. He sprinted across it, the magic almost bouncing beneath his feet. Anti screamed, and the room shook again. Jack managed to step onto the other side, just as the ravine shot open wider, snapping the bridge in half. On the other side of the room, Jameson’s hands fell to the ground, his eyes closing as he went very still.
“Y̢͟o͡͏u̶.̷͢͢” Anti growled, pointing at Jack. “Are by far the w̨͉̠̘̳ͅo͏̸̸̫̦͈͕̗r̝͇͉̝̘̹̟̕̕s̙̹̩̭̻͠͠t̨̠͝ one. I ̵h̛͠a̡͢t̵̢͠e̛ ̸̕yo͞͞u͏̵ s̯̝o̧͎͉̬̬̟̻̹.̪̣̘̦̀ ͎͍̜̳̜M̭̖͇̖̯u̻͔̲͇c̦̫̲h̬. ”
“I figured that out a while ago,” Jack muttered, feeling all his old scars twinge. He gripped the knife tightly and pointed it at Anti. “Let him go.”
Anti burst into laughter. “Or w̨̛hat̸?”
“Or this!” Jack ran forward, quickly closing the distance. Anti chuckled, and just as Jack drew near, glitched away, reappearing behind him. Jack skidded to a halt and spun around.
“Ẁo̷̢͟w̧͡, good job.” Anti clapped. “Have you considered th̷̢͢is̷?” He reached to the side and pulled out a knife of his own, taking a swipe at Jack. Yelping, Jack jumped backwards, but Anti glitched again, reappearing behind Jack just as he was stepping backwards. Pain blossomed from a point on Jack’s lower back, and before he could even respond to that, Anti pushed him forward onto the ground. Once again, Jack dropped the knife. “You’re so p͠͝áţ̕͢het̵i̴̷͞c̷. Even Schneep had a fighting spirit, this is just s͏̢a͟d̨͠.”
Dimly, Jack registered that this wasn’t going well. Then immediately, the part of him that wasn’t concerned with the stab wound in his back went YOU THINK?! They hadn’t been counting on Anti somehow knocking Chase out of the fight right from the start. They hadn’t realized that Anti would be able to pull the room apart. They hadn’t thought about how the effort of holding the room together would make Jameson pass out, leaving Jack the only one left. Even if they had come up with a more thorough plan, their efforts still would’ve failed, because they hadn’t been expecting any of this.
“What would you do...” Anti raised his left hand. “...if you just..,drop̀͞p̨e̸͢d̛͝͠?” And he clenched his fist, sending a wave of static into the air.
The ground beneath Jack started shaking and bucking violently. Cracks appeared in its surface, spreading rapidly across the concrete. Every time he tried to stand up, Jack lost his balance. He watched pieces of the floor wall away and leave blackness behind. Anti was laughing. Jack kept trying to get up or roll away, but the small earthquake was too wild, pushing him back to place every time. The floor was giving away and he braced himself—
Anti screamed.
The ground settled. Jack quickly scrambled away from the cracks that remained on its surface. Once he was on solid ground, he looked up to see Anti...fighting with someone. At first he thought it was Chase, but then the person drew away from the fight, and realization struck him like lightning. “Schneep?!” He gasped.
Schneep turned toward him, responding to the sound of his voice. He wore a long black coat over his outfit, and held a pair of scissors in his hand. His eyes were...different. The scars were still there, underneath his eyes in the shape of tears, but now his irises glowed turquoise, his scleras black. He grinned. “Hello, Jack. Nice to, ah, see you again. In the metaphor sense.”
Jack laughed a bit. “Y-yeah,” he said, climbing to his feet. “Where have you been?”
“Is a long story, and not one that can be summed up easily,” Schneep said. “Especially not now.”
Anti shrieked, the sound more akin to an electronic whine than anything human. His form was glitching so hard that it was causing him to stumble and stagger. Eventually it settled, and he glared at Schneep. “You think you’re ş̸̴m͡a̡rt̵?̧̨!̧” He demanded.
“Well...” Schneep held up his scissors. A length of green string was caught in their blades. He snapped the scissors shut, cutting the string in half. “Yes.”
Anti growled. He clutched at his left arm...which was still glitching pretty severely, despite the rest of his body being fine. Glancing down, Jack’s eyes widened when he saw Anti’s hand separated from his wrist, dangling from a few strands of green thread. The string soon snapped, and the hand fell to the ground, where it glitched out of existence. The wound that was left dripped colorful static instead of blood.
Shocked, Jack closed his eye, activating his soul vision. The mess of shards that was Anti’s soul looked even looser than before. And as he glanced at Schneep’s soul, something seemed...different about it, too. In a way he couldn’t quite describe.
“You want to f̡ig͡͏̸ḩ͢t͞?̷̧” Anti summoned his knife with his remaining hand. “Le͢ţ's ̸ge̴t̶ to it́!̷” He lunged at Schneep. 
Schneep didn’t even turn toward him, instead vanishing. The air behind Anti sliced open and Schneep stepped out, wrapping his arms around Anti’s torso. Anti shrieked again, and glitched to the side, swiping with his knife. Schneep countered with the scissors, and jabbed them forward. Anti backed up and slashed again. This time, Schneep opened the scissors, catching the knife in between the two blades. Quickly, he snapped the scissors shut and twisted, yanking the knife out of Anti’s grip. He grabbed the knife’s handle, now armed with two weapons. “Jack, make sure Chase is alright,” he said. “He feels like he is, but better safe than sorry.”
“What?”
Anti summoned another knife, darting forward while Schneep seemed distracted. But Schneep was gone. Now he was on the other side of the room, the other side of the ravine. Anti screamed, and glitched over, and the fighting began again.
Jack scrambled over to where Chase was. He turned him over, eyes scanning him. Chase’s eyes were open, but dulled. His chest was rising and falling slowly. Jack wanted to check his pulse, but he didn’t want to remove the bandanna or the wristbands without permission. “Chase? Are you okay, bud?” Jack asked, gently shaking his shoulder.
Chase blinked, and mumbled something unintelligible. 
“Dude, come on, wake up! Or, well, you’re not exactly asleep—snap out of it!” He shook him harder, and Chase groaned, the dull look in his eyes fading a bit. “Chase, say something!”
“...something...” Chase muttered.
Jack laughed hysterically. “Okay, that’s good. How do you feel?”
“...kinda foggy,” Chase said slowly. “What...he squeezed my wrist, and I...”
“Maybe that was a pressure point or a trigger point or something?” Jack guessed.
“Maybe...” Chase squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide. “What’s going on?”
“Um...Schneep showed up, cut Anti’s hand off, and now they’re fighting.”
“...I must be really out of it, ‘cause I thought you said Schneep cut Anti’s hand off.”
“Nope, that wasn’t just you, bud,” Jack said, shaking his head. He pointed across the room to the fight boiling between Schneep and Anti. The two of them were disappearing and reappearing, much like they had when Schneep’s magic first manifested in the apartment. But this seemed more controlled, more deliberate.
Chase sat up slowly, squinting. “...oh. He doesn’t have a hand.”
“Yeah.”
“...what...the fuck?” Chase said. His voice was soft, but it contained a lot of feeling.
“I know, dude, here, just let me help you up.”
The two of them stood, staring across the ravine in the floor at the fight. “JJ...” Chase whispered, pointing across to where Jameson laid on the floor, still unconscious.
“I know...” Jack looked down at the ravine. “How’re we going to get across?”
Chase didn’t have time to answer, because just then, Anti and Schneep disappeared, reappearing three feet away from them. Jack and Chase cried out in unison, stumbling back. Schneep ducked one of Anti’s blows and tackled him, pushing him to the ground. Then suddenly, the world fell apart and sewed itself together. And Schneep was standing upright again, but Anti wasn’t. Schneep walked over to Chase and Jack and silently grabbed the two of them. The air shivered, and suddenly they were on the other side of the room, right by—
“Jameson!” Chase cried, kneeling next to him. “Hey, hey, dude. Wake up!”
Anti screamed. He glitched upright, then over to their group, lashing out at them with the knife. Schneep grabbed his arm, and suddenly he was attacking his wrist with his scissors. Anti yelled, dropping the knife in surprise, and glitched back a bit. His right hand was now dangling from green thread, though it didn’t fall away. Static crawled over his body. He laughed and screamed at once, flickering and staggering, appearance shifting between himself, Marvin, and Jackie. 
“Jack, this is very important,” Schneep said. “You remember how you pulled out that string?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “We were planning on doing that again.”
“Good! Do it. But first, we need to snip snip the stitches on his neck.”
“The—oh.” Jack hadn’t thought much about the green stitches holding Anti’s throat wound closed. They were...awful, but he’d just accepted them as part of Anti’s appearance. “Alright, got it.”
“What about me?” Chase asked.
“Make sure Jack and Jamie do not get hurt while I do this,” Schneep said, raising the scissors and pointing them at Anti.
“You̢'re ͠a̸ll̡ ͡w̢eak!” Anti yelled, words barely audible through static and distortion. He stumbled, legs glitching into broken pieces. Pieces of red and blue static sliced through his body. “Awfu̸l, ͡tęrr͟i͡ble͠—͢h͞ap̢py̡ p̨e̛ople! ̸W̶h̷y ̀a̕r͝e̢ y̛o̶u h͢ap͡py?!̶ W̕h̴y̶ ̨am ͞I ͞be̵ing̵ ͠torn̛ ąp̕a̡r͞t—breaking͏,͝ a͏gony, pa͡i̴n p̀àin͞ ̴pai̡n—͡a̧nd͢ ̨y͠ou̵ are ͢nǫt?͟!̕ Hap̢py̵, ͞h̀a̕pp͏y—́l̸i͏vin̢ǵ,̀ ͡livi͏ng! I hat̶e̛ you! Í ͞H̛A҉TĘ ̧Y͢OU͠!̵ YOU͡ ͏SH̀OU̸L͞D̶ ̨S̢UFF̧E̶R ͠L͠IḰE̵ WE A̛RE!” He laughed, and cried, and screamed all at once. And then he lunged at them, arms outstretched, no weapons bared, eyes red and blue and green.
Schneep ducked. He opened the scissors wide, flipped them in his hand, and sliced. Anti stopped where he was, a wound on his chest bleeding static. He staggered back, then laughed and lunged again in a blind attack. Schneep pushed him back, away from the others. Anti snarled and screamed and laughed and sobbed and shouted all at once, arms breaking into glitchy pieces as he tried to attack blindly, punching and clawing. Schneep remained calm, deflecting every wild blow. Anti paused for just the slightest moment, and that’s when Schneep struck. He darted forward, slicing with the blade of the scissors. The slash cut cleanly through the stitches on Anti’s neck.
“Jack, now!” Schneep yelled. Jack ran forward. He hesitated for a moment. Anti was falling apart, a million voices coming out of his mouth, static leaking from his neck and various wounds, a mess of glitches and static with the image of his friends thrown in. But Jack steeled himself, and plunged his hand into the glitchy mess’s chest. His fingers grabbed something, and he pulled. Out came the green string. Schneep reached out, and Jack quickly handed it to him. He folded the string in on itself a couple time, then cut through the bundled up mess with the scissors.
Three screams at once rang out through the room. Then Anti flew apart, glitches and static bursting outward. There was nothing left.
Schneep dropped the remains of the green strings, panting. “That...was easier than I was expecting,” he said.
“Easy?!” Chase repeated incredulously.
“Yes. I suppose he fell apart the more damage we did. It makes sense.” Schneep nodded.
Jack was rendered speechless. He stared at Schneep, gaping. “I—what—how—oh my—what?” He shook his head. “The string. We thought it couldn’t be cut.”
“Special scissors.” Schneep snipped said scissors a couple times. “I...picked them up. Is a long story.”
“Broooo!” Chase shouted. “That was epic! How’d you learn to do any of that?! That was badass!”
Schneep smiled softly. “Well...I have been practicing. After a certain...encounter made me realize what I could do, I decided to form a plan to take Anti down. And...thank you. You are all alright?”
“We’re fine, yeah,” Jack said. “Well...JJ’s still out.”
“Is he?” Schneep asked. “Someone should carry him out of here.”
“I got it.” Chase scooped JJ into his arms. He glanced toward the back of the room. His eyes widened. “Uh...guys? Look at that.”
Jack turned to follow his gaze. The wall on the opposite side of the room was cracking, the concrete turning black and falling apart. “That...can’t be good.”
“What? What is it?” Schneep asked. 
“Oh...so you still can’t see?” Jack asked.
“What? No! Why do you think I make that joke earlier? I just...I feel where people are, and it makes it easier.”
“Well, the room is falling apart. We should go.” Jack grabbed Schneep’s hand and started walking toward the doorway.
“You got the kids out?” Chase asked, following.
“Yes, we told them to go down the hall and up the stairs and wait for us outside the building. JJ put protection around them like we planned.” Jack frowned. “Though...maybe that went away after he passed out.”
Chase picked up the pace.
Once they left the building, they found Lily and Moira sitting on the pavement outside, perfectly fine. Chase started to cry. “Hey girls,” he said softly.
“Hi Dad,” Moira said.
“Hi Dad!” Lily shouted, waving. “Hi Uncle Hen! Uncle Jack! Why is Uncle JJ asleep? Where did Uncle Jackie go?”
Chase fell silent. “I think...he’s gone. R...right, Schneep?”
Schneep said nothing, then nodded softly. “I think he is,” he said quietly.
Tears started to pour faster from Chase’s eyes, but he swallowed the sobs. Not in front of the girls. “Well...c’mon, we’re going home, now. And we’ll tell you everything on the way.”
It was a long walk back to the house.
Once they arrived, Stacy and the girls reunited tearfully. She again demanded that they tell her what happened, but even though it was the middle of the day, everyone agreed they needed a rest. Chase promised to explain everything to her that evening.
They all took separate rooms, with Schneep staying with Jack for a while. He also promised explanations later.
Once he was alone, Chase started to cry in earnest.
They really were gone now.
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funkymbtifiction · 5 years ago
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I have been friends with a girl who is IXFX and not INFJ since the first year of middle school. Because unlike INFJs, she doesnt predict things ahead or having hard time changing her thinking if another evidence comes up. But I am torn between INFP, ISFJ, ISFP for her.
If you don’t mind, I’m going to address misconceptions and show what’s useful and what isn’t, so people better understand relevancy. If it’s not type related, I’ll cross it out.
Hints of her being INFP
1. She loves listening to music loudly because it gives her fun ideas of new and creative projects.
2. She usually tries to read between the lines, but her instincts are not always correct.
Tries to, as in a conscious effort to do so, or does so effortlessly, assumes her leaps in intuition are correct, and operates based off those assumptions? Example: “Though so and so are hiding it, I am sure they are dating.” Could be right, could be wrong, but N is reading much more into what is sensory apparent. If reading between the lines is a fun thing she does for amusement, or to test herself, and not something that has caused her problems in the past (by making unfounded idealistic assumptions), she is likely an S > N rather than the reverse. Think about where intuitive characters make their mistakes: by operating off their assumptions and the unseen connections between things / people / events.
3. She loves reading fan theories, and she does theorize about emotions and psychology of characters. But she sometimes can be skim-reading.
Indicates a feeler in general.
4. She doesn’t believe her gut instinct completely because she just think it as ‘the most likely one’ and needs proof to believe it completely.
Doesn’t support or rule out intuition, but shows a self-doubting E type tendency.
5. She wants to change the world by sharing her beliefs of the world where she belongs to.
What are these beliefs? Are they independent from everyone else (self-formed through a Fi black and white sense of “what I think about this should be what is universally true”) or in more of a “we should all band together” way? Where did she get these beliefs and what happens when someone violates them?
6. She wants to believe in good things though reality is not good at all. But she doesn’t see goodness in most people because of her past relationships and she wants the most sparkling ones, not plain ones.
Sounds like Si and Ne idealism rather than pragmatism, so I’d rule out ISFP.
7. She is a dreamer who imagines about publishing a book about her wonderful beliefs and getting everyone impressed. But she is not the type who actually practice or does it. She just imagines about her dream.
She does seem ‘locked in her head’ so INFP is likely; ISFJs are usually more Fe-focused.
8. She loves thinking about intuitive patterns of her behaviors or others more than hands-on learning and enjoying sensory experiences.
9. She loves handling abstracts though she has to think a lot when she is reading difficult novels or books about philosophy.
10. She once told me everyone in class hated her because she asked too many questions. Though she thought that she was just fascinated about abstracts and creative potentials.
11. She is not a detail oriented person. She loves to wing the situations.
Ne/Si.
Hints of her being ISFP
1 . When she has to do something she doesn’t like, she doesn’t read between the lines and just try to finish it as quickly as she can.
This is inferior Te, not Se. The ‘hurry up and get it over with, no time to ponder it’ is a typical low Te response. The INFP becomes careless as a result.
2. She can be impatient when others are arguing about the topic that she has no interest in.
This is Fi-dom, because it’s all about her and her interests, nobody else.
3. She told me she was impulsive when she was a child. She loved being in nature and sometimes hurt others accidentally because she was too thrilled while spending her time in nature.
4. She is usually not afraid of consequences of her actions or words. She just say or do it if she wants to. But this doesn’t mean she is a bad person. She feels really guilty when people get hurt because of her.
Low Te – doesn’t consider the consequences of her actions. High Fi – has a general concern for others’ feelings and turns it into self-focused guilt.
5. What she usually daydreaming about is her favorite characters being badasses like fighting against villains or having special relationships.
This is INFP again. An ISFP DOES THINGS.
6. She enjoys nsfw works of artists she loves and she also sometimes write or draw nsfws. She can stay all day playing with her smartphone too.
Hints of her being ISFJ
1. She is haunted by her past relationships. Though I think she still has the possibility of being caught in Fi Si loop, she cant stop but telling me about her past. She does think her past made her nicer person though…
Si loop.
2. She sometimes overuses her money because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or has enough money to buy anything she and her friends wants.
High feeler. Low Te.
I am not sure about her judging functions, but I think she has both Fi qualities and Fe qualities . For Fi qualities, she hates radical feminism because it tries to force people into something, somewhat blunt, not afraid of being alone, doesn’t forgive anyone if they don’t apologize after crossing her lines(including her), loves personal freedom than trying to be a member of group.
Yes, all of that is Fi.
As for Fe qualities, she is not afraid to tell her opinions to others, hates when her opinions are making someone feel bad, being pretty easygoing to others, and sometimes agreeing for someone’s opinions or cheering someone because of manners.
All of this is also Fi.
INFP.
- ENFP Mod
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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years ago
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this was actually written for a prompt i got ages ago - “ed and/or al mess up and hurt Roy and/or Riza on a mission” from an anon - but i completely forgot i’d already half written this and started on a completely new idea and posted that lmao so here’s the original one that i found and finished
hope you enjoy it!
rated: t | words: 2516
“Do you want backup on this one Lieutenant?” Mustang asked her as she loaded her pistol. She hid her small smirk, predicting his question perfectly in her mind just moments before he asked it.
“That won’t be necessary, sir. We’ll be fine.”
“I know you will be fine. It’s Fullmetal I’m concerned about.”
“The boy will be fine too,” she stressed playfully, turning her smirk towards him. Her expression turned soft when she saw the concern in his eyes. It was natural for him to worry about them all before going on a solo mission. Yes, she would have Edward with her, but he’d only been a State Alchemist for a few weeks. He could handle himself in a fight – that much had been proved already – but he was still just a child. A fact the military seemed to forget.
Mustang muttered something under his breath. Riza ignored it while rolling her eyes.
The Fullmetal Alchemist walked through the door, followed by his brother.
“We’re ready, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”
“We?” Mustang questioned.
“Yeah,” Edward replied, as if it was obvious. “We.”
“Alphonse is coming too?” Riza questioned, lifting an eyebrow with a small smile. She’d expected as much.
“Well, I, uh, was wondering if I could come alone with you? Someone needs to keep Ed out of trouble,” Alphonse reasoned, pleading his case.
“Hey!” Edward protested
“I don’t doubt your abilities Lieutenant Hawkeye, but two sets of eyes are better than one.”
Riza chuckled as Edward begun to protest loudly and the two begun to argue. She took off walking down the street, heading towards their destination while the sound of their argument followed closely behind her.
*          *          *
“Edward?” Riza hissed. There was no answer. “Shit.”
Creeping forward, pistol drawn, she approached the area of warehouse where she’d last seen the brothers. She cursed herself for letting them out of her sight. They were tracking down a lead on the Philosopher’s Stone and she was there as back up. Now she’d let her charges out of her sight.
The ground begun to shake underneath her feet. She stumbled at the sudden shock, throwing out a hand to catch herself against the wall. It continued to shake before simply crumbling. She hit the ground, her knees bashing against the stone painfully. The wall also begun to crumble, falling, striking her hand and arm on the way down. Riza hissed in pain as some rocks broke the skin before she could pull away.
“Come back here you bastard!” she heard Edward cry out from somewhere to her left. Rolling her eyes, Riza pushed herself to her feet, shaking out her hand to try and rid it of the pain.
“Edward!” Alphonse cried, probably to try and stop him from doing something reckless. However, given the situation and the current state of the warehouse they were in, he’d already done something incredibly reckless. There was another clap followed by more shocks beneath her feet. She tried to walk, but she kept falling as the ground continued to move.
“Alphonse?” she called out, trying to get at least one of them under control.
“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” he replied. She rounded a stack of crates and found him in the centre of a small clearing, whipping his head around as he tried to locate her.
“What’s going on?” she barked, trying to get a handle on the situation.
“Oh, uh, nothing. Just, uh…”
“Alphonse,” she warned.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Ed is trying to stop the guy we were tracking from escaping.”
“This is not the way to do that,” she stated, voice hard as she flicked the safety off her pistol. “Where is he?” Riza barked, eyes scanning the room.
“Come back!” they heard Edward call out. “I want to talk to you!”
Suddenly there was a massive tremor and the glass above them shattered. Riza looked up in horror, finding there was nowhere for her to move to so she could shield herself.
“Lieutenant!” Alphonse cried. Suddenly, she was pulled sharply backwards into his metal body, hitting it hard. It was enough to knock the wind out of her lungs. She gasped as his hands held her body still. The glass missed the vital parts of her body, but her arms were still stretched out as her body was jerked backwards, the glass piercing her bare skin. Riza closed her eyes against the pain, biting her lip to try and stop herself from crying out.
“Are you okay?” Alphonse asked worriedly.
Finally getting her breath back, she straightened up and forced herself out of Alphonse’s arms. “Where is Edward?” she bit out between her teeth. Her voice was deadly calm, posture wound tight because if it wasn’t, she would explode there and then.
Her anger was carefully restrained inside of her, as she’d learned to do for most of her life.
Edward is just a kid. He’s just a kid. Don’t snap. Don’t do it.
“I, uh –”
“Find him. Now,” she forced out. “I will be waiting for you outside.”
*          *          *
“Lieutenant?” Edward’s small voice reached her.
She turned, fixing her gaze on him. It seemed to make him shrink in size. His shoulders rounded inwards, his head dipped, and his gaze was cast downwards. This was a new look for him. Normally when the Colonel was telling him off for something, he would argue right back, but with just one sharp look, Riza had him shying away from her.
It would have amused her, how different the reactions from Edward were between her and the Colonel. It would have, had she not been so angry at him.
“You cannot, under any circumstances, waltz into a warehouse – or any building, actually – and start tearing up the place just because you don’t want someone to leave.” Edward nodded while Alphonse stood ashamed next to him. Riza had finished wiping the blood off her arms and tossed the soiled tissue in the car behind her. Edward watched and visibly paled at the sight of her injuries. “If that man wants to leave, you let him leave, you do not use alchemy to make him stay, do I make myself clear?”
Riza’s voice remained a deadly calm throughout. Her anger at the boy’s recklessness and complete disregard for everything and anyone around them was held in check. After all, they were just children. She remembered being that age. Her and the Colonel got up to all kinds of mischief as teenagers – it was mostly just Roy doing something insanely stupid so he could try and amuse her. But this was on a whole other level, and it was uncalled for. Edward was in the military now. Regardless of that fact, he couldn’t go around tearing up the city because he felt like it.
The boy before her audibly gulped then nodded. “I understand,” he whispered.
“Good. Get in the car.” Her order wasn’t barked, but it almost was. Her anger was slipping through, but she reigned it in as tightly as she could. Edward flinched and nodded, walking around to where he’d sat on the ride over like a dog with its tail between its legs. The door was closed quietly.
“Lieutenant –” Alphonse began, his tone worried. Riza was facing the warehouse, her back to him, and she didn’t turn. She couldn’t just yet. If she did, she would glare at him, and she didn’t want to.
It was likely Edward had initiated this whole thing, but Alphonse could be equally as careless as Edward sometimes. They just didn’t think. For being two kids who were supposedly prodigies, they could be clueless, especially when it came to the real world. And that was the reality of it all. They were children. Many didn’t understand that because they were in the military, but Riza understood it perfectly, because she’d been in the same position. She’d had to grow up far too fast and had been left to fend for herself, so everyone in town treated her like she was older than she was. It was likely they thought she was older but was just a bit on the small side for her age.
“In the car, Alphonse,” she stated. She needed time. She needed to decide what to do. The two of them had practically torn the place apart, and now she was left to deal with the fallout. No wonder the Colonel was so frustrated with Edward sometimes.
There was a quiet pause then the sound of metallic feet walking away from her, towards the car.
Letting out a long sigh once the door was closed, she walked back into the warehouse to assess the damage. She could almost picture Edward and Alphonse protesting at her entering alone, but there wasn’t a peep from them. She’d probably scared them into silence. Drawing her weapon and flicking the safety off, she entered the building.
She had no idea what was going on. She didn’t even know who the target was! She’d just been given a name. Edward had destroyed the place and caused the ceiling to fall on them before she could see the target.
Letting out a frustrated growl as she assessed the damage, Riza made a loop of the building, which she determined was empty. Whoever that man was, he was long gone, and Riza didn’t blame him.
Walking back to the car, she was in deep thought. Arriving at a solution, Riza tried to let all her anger flow out of her. She hated to do it to them, but she needed to call it in. Someone needed to survey the damage and restore it to its rightful state. Someone also needed to assess what stock had been damaged and how much the military owed the business owner. The thought alone made Riza want to pinch the bridge of her nose to try and stave off the headache forming.
“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” she stated to the operator across the car radio. She gave her security number, calling the Colonel’s office and requesting the team to meet her at the warehouse.
She wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to him what had happened. Especially as it was under her watch.
Riza slammed the door closed after climbing in the driver’s seat, using that as an outlet for her anger. Out the corner of her eye she noticed the two brothers flinch at the sound in the rear-view mirror.
“You both don’t think,” she began.
“We’re sorry,” Alphonse replied, his voice incredibly small and sounding every bit like the twelve-year-old he was.
“That’s fine, Alphonse, but what if someone had gotten hurt?” Riza asked. It wasn’t to be nasty. It was to show them the reality of working with the military. She didn’t point out the fact that she had gotten hurt. That would be cruel to them. “What if you had gotten hurt? These bad guys won’t see a child and immediately stop and show mercy. The people you encounter will not hesitate to kill you just because you’re a child,” she stated, her voice softer. “Especially if you’re with the military,” she added. Glancing over at Edward, he dipped his gaze in shame. “Your talents are great – the both of you.” She glanced over at Alphonse too. “But that will only get you so far. You’re not indestructible. You never will be. If that automail breaks you’re out of commission, Edward,” she reminded him softly. “If someone manages to break Alphonse’s armour, he’s gone.” Edward stiffened, and Alphonse shifted in his seat, his metal clanking together. “You need to think before you act.”
“We’re sorry you got hurt,” Alphonse apologised, sounding like he was on the edge of tears. “You’re right – we didn’t think.”
“Yeah,” Edward added. “I’m really sorry, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” His eyes were full of remorse as he met her gaze finally.
“Good. Apology accepted.” Out the corner of her eye, she spotted the Colonel’s car pulling up. “Stay in here,” she ordered softly. Holstering her weapon, she stepped out of the car. The last thing they needed right now was Mustang yelling at Edward.
“Hawkeye, what –” His eyes landed on her scratched and bloody forearms. His gaze lifted her hers, questioning and hard. With one eyebrow raised, he asked her what happened.
“A little misunderstanding,” she waved off. “The guy thought Edward and Alphonse were trying to take him away somewhere, so fought back.”
Mustang stared her down, but that had never worked on her before. He probably knew she was withholding information but wouldn’t call her out on it. Not in front of everyone.
“The guy was a maniac,” Riza added. “Collapsed the glass ceiling on top of us, so we had to fight back,” she shrugged as if it was nothing. It wasn’t a lie – the target had collapsed the ceiling on top of them to try and stop Edward from chasing him. “Some of the stock inside got damaged as they defended themselves.”
Mustang rolled his eyes and turned to face the warehouse, ordering members of the team to go inside and scope it out.
“And you, Lieutenant?” he asked, looking down at her arms, before his gaze flicked back up to hers. There was an unspoken question in it, an unspoken concern in there. She offered him a small smile in return.
“Perfectly fine, sir. Just a flesh wound.”
Mustang rolled his eye as he turned to face the warehouse again. “Why is it, that it’s always trouble with those two.”
Riza shrugged, surveying the work the team was doing as they had their discreet conversation. “I don’t know, sir, but it reminds me of someone else.”
“Oh?” he asked, his tone questioning.
Riza nodded. “A boy I knew from when I was a child. He always seemed to drag me into trouble, just like Edward seems to do with Alphonse.”
Mustang chuckled beside her, shifting in place so his hand brushed against hers. She felt the sensation tingle over the back of her hand and passed her wrist. “That boy sounds like a riot.”
“He was,” she surmised. “But a pain the ass, too.” She smiled fondly when he turned sharply to face her with a disapproving frown. “He turned out okay, though. I just like to remember the mischief and trouble we got into when we were their age,” she added, jerking her head backwards towards Edward and Alphonse in the car. It was a reminder for Mustang to go easy on them.
The brothers couldn’t hear their conversation – they were both too far away – but when they turned, both boys seemed to shrink into the seat.
“That boy did get into a lot of trouble, didn’t he?” Mustang mused to himself. “I remember you telling me about him.”
“I’m sure you did too, sir,” she smirked. “So, remember, go easy on them.”
Mustang sighed and nodded. “I suppose,” he joked. Riza bumped his shoulder with hers before walking to help her teammates in the warehouse. Behind her, she heard Mustang greeting the brothers, but his tone was soft as he encouraged the boys out of the car.
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seeaddywrite · 5 years ago
Text
overcome by shame, can i ever change?
part 3/6: five times Alex stopped Michael from doing something stupid, & one time Michael returned the favor.
warnings: for this part – grief, allusions to depression, alcohol abuse, self-loathing, abuse of a police officer’s position, the usual. 
you can also read/follow on AO3, if you prefer. (the formatting is 110x better & includes italics where they are supposed to be!) i’m not making any promises about having the next part up tomorrow because this work week may kill me, but i’ll get it up asap. 
Less than a month later, Michael’s slumped against the wall in the Chaves County Sheriff’s station. The view from the cell hasn’t changed since the day Michael and Isobel gave Max hell for healing Liz Ortecho in front of it, and the sight gives Michael a painful expectation of seeing his brother walking through the door at any moment, uniform and disappointed scowl in place, self-righteous lecture at the ready. But that’s not going to happen, so Michael’s swollen eyes are closed. The feeling of loss eases, if only a little, and keeping his eyelids shut helps against the steady throb in his cheek and ribs, too. 
It also allows him to ignore the look burning into him from the desk across the room, where his arresting officer sits. The young man is new, desperate to prove himself -- fuck, it actually looks like he’s shined the badge on the front of his uniform. He’s wet behind the ears, too goddamned eager to show how much better he is than guys like Michael. 
Michael knows that’s why he’s still sitting here. Sheriff Valenti would’ve let him go by now, shaking her head at him in wordless disappointment, just as she had the last few times he’d found himself in here after Max’s death. This guy doesn’t give a shit about Michael’s grief, though. Doesn’t even know about it, since only a few have been told the truth. Kyle’d insisted on bringing his mom into the loop after Caulfield and discovering his father’s role in it, and Michael and Isobel had been too numb to argue for more than a few minutes. 
The sense of those eyes on him starts to chafe, and Michael forces his eyes open to meet the Deputy stare-for-stare. He knows the picture he paints: the black cowboy hat perched haphazardly on his head, the insolent tilt of of his chin and shoulders, the sprawling pose he’d adopted against the wall with his legs crossed in front of him. It’s an image he’s cultivated for the last decade of his life. The rebel. The drunk. The outcast, challenging anyone who dares to get too close. 
Most people never bother to look beyond the facade, and Michael usually prefers it that way. Today, though, it rubs him the wrong way. He’s used to Max being the one to pull him out of the drunk tank in the morning, accustomed to the lectures and the insistence that Michael is worth more than this, more than the booze and the fights and the disappointment in everyone’s gazes when they looked at him. Those damned speeches had always made Michael homicidal; Max never seemed to understand that what they’d done to Rosa had killed any chance of a future for him just as surely as it had killed the girl herself. To Michael, Max had always seemed unaffected, infuriatingly numb to the truth of the crime they committed and immune to the consequences, and his insistence that Michael deserved to move forward, simply because he had, only ever made Michael resent his brother.
Finally, the Deputy seems to have enough of their staring contest. Michael’s eyes flicker open at the scraping of a chair leg on the floor, and he watches with a blank expression as the man strides across the floor with the sort of bow-legged strut used men with more ego than common sense. He tips his chin back to meet the man’s gaze, squinting through the swelling around his eyes, but doesn’t move otherwise, letting the man come at him first, instead.
“So,” he says, and Michael’s eyes dart to the too-shiny badge on his chest. Simmons. The name is vaguely familiar, like all names in a town this small, but Michael doesn’t care enough to try to figure out where he’s heard it before. It’s not like it actually matters. “Your third bar brawl in two weeks. I’d be impressed, except that’s nothing for you, is it?”
The sneer in his words is expected, and Michael only rolls his eyes. “Slow week,” he drawls in reply, ignoring the shooting pain caused by moving his jaw. “I’ll make sure to throw a few more punches next week just for you.” 
Simmons huffs a disdainful laugh, and reaches back to take a stack of paperwork from his desk. “Unlikely,” he says, flipping a page in a file. “I know that you’re used to special treatment, Guerin, but I’m not Valenti. I don’t have a soft-touch for hopeless cases.” 
Michael snorts. “Yeah? You want to go tell her she’s a soft-touch to her face?” He doesn’t think much of the law, never has, but he knows that Michele Valenti is far from gentle. She’s fair, and usually pretty by-the-book, if Max is to be believed, but she’s as tough as nails when needed, and if Simmons hasn’t learned that yet -- well, Michael’s pretty sure the Sheriff will enjoy showing him how wrong he is. Michael can only hope he’s around to see it. 
Apparently, Simmons doesn’t like Michael’s flippancy. His brows draw downward into a pinched, angry expression, and he leans in close, close enough that Michael can see every carefully steamed inch of his impeccable uniform. The image jolts something loose in Michael’s mind, dragging unwanted memories of Max’s first days on the force to the front. 
Isobel had insisted on re-ironing Max’s slacks so they wouldn’t be wrinkled for his first shift. Michael’d been at Max’s for god-knew what reason, since he hadn’t even been able to look at his brother that soon after Rosa’s death -- but Michael had been there as Max put that uniform on for the first time, watched as determination filled his expression and inflated his chest and shoulders. Determination to make up for the wrongs he’d done, to atone for the sins he’d committed by helping others, as if he could somehow undo the horrible thing they’d done with good intentions. 
Michael had burned with fury at Max’s naivete, with jealousy, for his ability to move forward when Michael himself was stuck, suspended in that moment, day after day. 
It’s funny. Michael had always thought that the year after Rosa’s death was rock bottom -- yet here he is, still trapped, still furious and heartbroken, with no one to blame but himself. 
“You’re going down this time, Guerin. Assault, at the very least. That guy you were beating on had broken ribs, and there’s no way he’s going to drop the charges -- and I will personally see to it that someone claps you in cuffs and throws you in a cell to rot.” Simmons slams his hand against the bars, hard enough to make the entire cell rattle, and Michael blinks away the remnants of the memory to look back at Max’s replacement, lips curled in a sneer. Blood trickles from a split that hadn’t quite closed, yet and down his chin, but Michael doesn’t move to wipe it away. 
“That what gets you off? Guys in handcuffs?” he drawls. “I’m flattered, officer, but you’re not really my type.” And that is an understatement. In fact, comparing Simmons to Alex is an actual insult, as far as Michael is concerned -- not that he should be thinking of Alex right now. Or ever. 
Simmons’ face flushes with anger, and Michael allows himself a small, triumphant smirk. He knows he’s signing his own arrest warrant with his behavior, but he’s known that for weeks. Eventually, all of his sins would catch up with him, and he’s done trying to outrun them. 
Much to Michael’s regret, Simmons gets ahold of his temper quickly; his hands clench at his sides, and there’s a vein throbbing visibly beneath his carefully tousled blond bangs, but his voice is calm, almost cloying pleasant, when he speaks again. “Ah, well that explains things, doesn’t it?” he muses, and the knowing tone in his voice makes Michael wants to punch him hard enough to break that Colgate smile. “I knew Evans was disappearing your paperwork - every time someone tried to prosecute you, it would all just vanish, or the plaintiff would just suddenly withdraw all charges. It was obviously Evans -- I just hadn’t been able to figure out why he’d risk his career like that on a nobody like you.”
Michael struggles to make sense of that information, tries to fumble it into the schema of his and Max’s relationship for the last decade, but the pieces don’t fit. Max had always been the goody-two shoes, so by-the-book in dealing with Michael’s indiscretions that it is impossible to believe that he’d literally been tampering with the paperwork to keep him out of jail. Michael had always just thought Max had pulled in favors with Valenti, or used the ‘old friend’ card over and over -- but this? Had Max really gone to such extreme lengths to keep Michael out of jail?
“But if you two were fucking before he skipped town, well. That makes a hell of a lot more sense, doesn’t it?” 
White-hot rage greys out Michael’s vision, and he’s on his feet against the bars before his mind catches up with the instinct. The feeling is senseless; the insane assumption should be something he laughs at, uses to deride Simmons’ detective work, but Michael can’t summon any humor or snark to throw at him. Hearing Max’s name from his asshole replacement is too much, and Michael’s had all he can take. Power builds in his hands where they’re pressed against the cold metal of the bars, humming through him and causing a ringing, metallic buzz to echo through the small room.
He can’t do this. He has to stop, needs to push the power down and keep it hidden, but Michael’s so removed from his own body in that moment that he can practically look down at himself and see the tension turning into a wavering aura of power in the small cell. 
“That’s enough,” a harsh voice snaps, and both Michael and Simmons’ attention shifts immediately to Alex Manes. He’s looming in the open doorway, blocking all view to the administrative section of the office, an air of authority around his camo-covered shoulders that makes Michael’s breath catch in his throat.
In some ways, Alex is as familiar to him as the parts of his truck, or the smooth surface of the ship fragments he spends his nights with, but while he wears that uniform and that particular expression -- the one that not only demands instant obedience but expects it -- Michael can’t help but feel like he’s staring at a stranger. And after years of limited contact and heartbreak, that’s likely how it should be. Michael almost wishes it could be that simple. Instead, he’s fairly certain that despite everything, he could still pick Alex out of a crowd of millions from miles away. Something in his chest always thrills to Alex’s presence, drawing Michael’s gaze to him even when Alex is the last person he wants to see. 
“What the hell are you doing back here, Manes?” Simmons demands, crossing his hands over his chest and straightening his shoulders in an obvious effort to look intimidating. He’s got an inch and several pounds of muscle on Alex, so it should work, but in comparison to Alex’s hard expression and relaxed but ready body language, Simmons is nothing. Alex certainly doesn’t think so; he stares fearlessly back at the Deputy and raises an eyebrow, a challenge inherent in the minuscule movement. 
“That’s Captain Manes, actually,” Alex corrects definitively. “And I’m here because the guy he hit—” Alex nods toward Michael. “— is Air Force. He’s being reassigned effective Monday morning with a black mark for excessive drinking and brawling in public, so he won’t be pressing charges.” 
Alex presents a set of papers to the Deputy with a flourish, a hint of the attitude Michael had fallen in love with a decade ago shining through in the movement. Simmons gives him a long, hard look, then snatches the papers from his hands, all but tearing them with unnecessary force. While he reads, Alex looks around him to Michael, a silent query on his face.
Michael blinks slowly, taking stock of his body and the energy that has receded somewhat at the sight of Alex. He’s sober enough to wonder, this time, if he’ll always have this reaction to the other man -- if he’s doomed to only ever feel calm and safe around someone who’s so tangled up in some of the most negative, traumatic experiences of his life that Michael doesn’t know how to separate Alex’s comforting grip with the vice around his heart when he thinks of Caulfield. Of his mother.
Right now, he can almost convince himself it doesn’t matter. Michael’s too relieved to see Alex, too grateful for his intervention, to feel anything else.Taking a long, slow breath, Michael peels his fingers away from the bars of the cell and takes a step back. The metallic hum in the room stops completely, and as long as Alex gets him out of there without Simmons making any more comments about the kind of man Max was, Michael thinks he can avoid this situation turning into more of a disaster.
“The military doesn’t have any jurisdiction in Roswell,” Simmons says a moment later, his chest once again puffing out in righteous indignation. “Guerin’s been picked up three times in the last two weeks for the same offense. We don’t need your guy to press charges; I’ve got plenty of evidence to keep him in lock-up.” 
Alex’s eyes narrow, and Michael almost feels sorry for Simmons. Almost. 
“Really.” The word is flat, loaded with insinuation. “So this has nothing to do with the fact that you lost out on the  position at this station to Max Evans? And then lost out on the last open position for Evans’ partner because he said he didn’t want to work with you?” Alex’s expression is carefully blank, but Michael can read him well enough to know that he’s ready to go for the throat. 
It shouldn’t surprise Michael that there are large chunks of Max’s life he knows nothing about. The two of them hadn’t been able to get past what happened to Rosa and the way it was handled, and that crack had led to nearly complete fragmentation in the intervening years. There’s no chance of fixing it, now, no way of knowing if they could have regained the closeness they’d shared for so long, because Max is dead -- but somehow, Michael is still learning things about his brother that make him want to put his fist through a wall. How many times had Max risked his career for Michael by destroying documents and evidence? How many people had he run off from the position as his partner to protect Michael? And why had he done it? Protecting their secret is one thing, but fuck, how is Michael supposed to take that information in stride?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simmons blusters, but Michael can tell the Deputy knows that he’s been beaten. Alex doesn’t go to battle without all of the facts on his side, without an ironclad plan, and Simmons had lost before they’d even begun. 
Alex snorts. “Sure I don’t,” he says amicably. “Why don’t we ask Sheriff Valenti, then? If all of your evidence on Guerin is by the book? I’m sure she’d be happy to back up one of her deputies and kick me out, if that’s the case.” 
Michael doesn’t know if Alex is bluffing, which almost certainly means Simmons can’t tell, either. He waits, aware that he should be more concerned about the outcome of this grudge match than he is, until Simmons growls, “Fine. Get him out of here. But the next time --” 
“You’ll throw him in cuffs and leave him to rot, yeah, I got it,” Alex interrupts, his tone suggesting that if he weren’t in uniform, he’d be rolling his eyes. “Keys.” 
Simmons slaps the keys to the cell into Alex’s extended palm and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Michael watches, silent, as Alex allows his airman persona to fade back into the gentler, less composed version of himself. “I hacked the cameras before I came in, just in case,” he says, and gestures at the lock on the cell. “You still need me to let you out?” 
A moment later, Michael has released the latch on the cell with a tendril of thought and stands in front of Alex, chin raised daringly as dark eyes take in his injuries. “We should go before that guy comes back,” is all he says, and Michael trails him out of the precinct and into the cool night air. Michael takes a deep breath and slouches back against the wall, eying Alex. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say or what’s expected of him now; hell, he doesn’t know how to interact with Alex on a good day, anymore. 
“You didn’t need to do that,” Michael says after a moment, the words stiff. Anger would have been better, but Michael can’t seem to summon it back now that it’s gone. “It would’ve been fine.” 
Alex shoots him a skeptical glance, but doesn’t argue. “I’m going to take that as Guerin speak for, ‘thanks for getting me out of jail,’” he snipes, and hits a button on his keychain, making his SUV blink its lights from a block down. “Come on. Your truck is still at the Pony, I’m guessing? I’ll give you a ride and you can pick it up tomorrow.” 
There isn’t much chance to argue, or Michael’s too tired to try. He trails Alex into the SUV, grateful despite himself for the unwavering presence at his side. His brain is still trying to process the fact that Max, despite ten years of distance and resentment, had still been protecting him. It’s a bizarre juxtaposition with the assumption that Max had only ever done anything to protect him in order to protect their secret. Max had fucked up so many times over the years: he’d left Michael alone and scared in foster care, had only listened as Michael whispered confessions of pain and fear of the families he lived with as a child, had pushed him into taking the blame for Isobel’s crimes and allowed him to give up on the one chance at a future he had -- 
Michael hates looking backward, and hates the fact that he understands Max so much better now that he’s gone. His brother had never been human, but he was as flawed as any of them, and yes, he had made mistakes. But how many of those mistakes had seemed unforgivable because of Michael’s own unhappiness? How much of his resentment toward Max had sprung from Max falling from the pedestal Michael had put him on? 
The hand that had, until recently, been numb and scarred, flexes against his thigh. Michael will never know what Max was thinking, that night. He’ll never be able to ask questions, or try to mend the rift that he’d helped created between them. 
Michael will never have a brother again, and the loss feels fresh, now, as if the experience with Simmons had ripped a new wound over the infected one still oozing in his chest. 
“Michael,” Alex says quietly, catching his attention more effectively than if he’d stood up and yelled. It’s rare to hear his first name from Alex, rarer still to hear it in a tone that borders on affection. They’ve avoided that sort of relationship for years, both aware that they’re in the middle of a balancing act, and one wrong move could send them careening over the edge into a world of hurt. “You’ve got to stop doing this. I’m not going to be able to use the same tricks next time, and . . .” he trails off, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he psyches himself up for whatever else he has to say. “And Max isn’t here to stop them from making sure you end up in prison.”
The words emerge in a rush, so quick that Michael has to let them process before he understands why Alex is so nervous. No one who mentioned his brother had walked away unscathed, lately; it was a surefire way to send Michael spiralling. 
But it hurts less, somehow, hearing the truth from Alex. Maybe because he knows that Alex understands grief, understands the feeling of anger that follows in the wake of abandonment, or because he knows Alex isn’t throwing words around to hurt him. So Michael doesn’t react; he simply turns his head to look out the window and watches the New Mexican desert fly by. 
It’s clear that Alex doesn’t know how to read Michael’s silence. He rushes on, obviously determined to get the words out before Michael loses his temper. “Think about it, Michael. If they get you in a jail cell, how long is it going to take before your cellmates, or a guard, or someone realizes that there’s something different about you? What if you get hurt and sent to medical? Who’s going to stop them from doing tests and figuring out that you’re not human? My father would love that kind of opportunity, Guerin. Please, for the love of god, don’t give it to him.”
Michael swallows, an old fear rising in his gut as he considers the scenario Alex spins for him. Jesse Manes. Experimentation. Tortured, like his mother and the rest of those poor souls hidden away at Caulfield prison. He shudders, hands digging into his jeans hard enough that his nails score the tender skin beneath. 
There’s a beat of silence, and then Alex’s hand is resting over the back of his left one, a gentle slide of skin that makes it easier for Michael to breathe. He almost misses the tremble in Alex’s fingers, caught up in his own emotions, but it’s there, and impossible to ignore. Michael glances up at Alex, surprised to see an anxiety nearly matching his own on his face, and wonders how often he’s ignored the way the people around him are feeling in favor of drowning in his own feelings. 
Michael flips his hand and squeezes Alex’s back, and triumph sparks in his chest when he catches the barest hint of a smile flash across full lips. 
“I know you don’t want to talk, okay, I get it. Believe me, I get it.” Alex’s words, when he speaks again, are full of rueful self-recrimination, and again Michael is struck by his own selfishness. He’s not the only one mired in trauma and hurt. But despite his own pain, despite the way Michael has treated him, Alex has been there when MIchael needs him. Every damn time. 
“But the way you’ve been acting lately -- shit, Guerin, it’s fucking terrifying. The drinking is one thing, but the fighting? The total disregard for your own health and well-being? That’s not what Max would’ve wanted for you. Do you think he spent the last decade of his life bailing you out of jail because he wanted you to rot there? Do you think your mother died convincing you to run because she wanted you to die out here instead?”
Michael’s fists clench in his lap, but his powers don’t react. This is Alex, after all, the calm in the middle of his storm, and something in Michael refuses to allow anything that might bring him harm. He grits his teeth against the spiral of guilt and shame that threatens at Alex’s words, and reaches for the door handle, ignoring the fact that the car is still moving. Alex shouts and slams on the breaks, leaving them both startled and staring at each other across the console between their seats. 
“I just want to help, Guerin,” Alex says, obviously biting back a furious comment at Michael’s stupidity. “I’m not asking you to love me, or date me, or whatever it is you’re so set against. I just want to make sure you don’t end up dissected or left to rot in one of my father’s torture chambers. Can’t you just let me?” 
The fight rushes out of Michael with a long breath, and he slumps back in the car seat. His head tips to one side, and he looks straight at Alex with a resigned, wary expression. “That’s the problem, Alex,” he says dully. “I do love you.” As much as he could love anyone at the moment. “But I can’t do anything about it. Not right now.” Maybe not ever. 
Alex’s face is washed pale yellow in the headlights of an oncoming car, and Michael doesn’t miss the hurt etched into the lines of his face, though it’s gone in a moment. 
“I’m not asking you to do anything about it,” Alex says quietly. “I’m asking you to come back to my place tonight, get some sleep, and eat an actual meal in the morning. We can figure out where to go from there.” One large hand rests on the gear shift lever, waiting for Michael’s go-ahead before he puts it into drive. 
Michael hesitates, part of him determined to climb out the door and trudge back to the Airstream to suffer through another night alone. But fighting Alex never gets him anywhere, and Michael’s tired of trying to stand on his own. If Max’s loss has taught him anything, aside from the fact that he does care about the self-sacrificing dumbass, it’s that Alex meant it, when he called Michael his family. And maybe, on a night like tonight, it’s not so wrong to want that support, no matter how selfish it feels.
So instead of following his instincts to run, Michael catches Alex’s eye and nods.
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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years ago
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Book Club?
A/N: Thank you @ladyreggiewright for a fun rp! Who would’ve thought that Reggie and Evalin would get along so well?! 
The words in the french textbook on the table in front of me were starting to blur at this point. How long had I been in the library now? Four hours? Five? I had lost track, and was too scared to look at my watch to check. This was ridiculous. I had grown up bilingual. Learning a third language shouldn’t be a difficult task for me to accomplish, and yet, French grammar was throwing me for a loop. What language needed five past tenses? It was excessive, in my opinion.
I rubbed my eyes, forcing them to focus on the words printed in the book once again. Behind me, I could hear footsteps approaching, the sound of someone's shoes hitting the floor reverberating through the nearly empty library. Whoever it was stopped two chairs over from where I was sitting, and curiosity got the better of me. Tucking my loose hair behind my ears, I looked up.
It was Reggie Wright. That was one name I couldn’t forget. When discussing the other Selected girls before I came here, Lydia and June had both been extremely eager to share their opinions on what they were sure the other girls would be like. They ended up coming to the same conclusions for most of the Selected, but Reggie had become a point of contention between the two of them. Lydia had insisted that Reggie must be a haughty know-it-all, citing many photos of her not smiling, and her job at a law firm - a home for the hoity-toity folk, as Lydia called it - as proof. June had disagreed, arguing that Reggie and I were actually probably quite similar, which seemed like a logical theory to me. She had pulled up some instagram fan account of some sort dedicated to Reggie, which was filled with pictures of her doing normal, everyday things, along with many photos of her smiling. She had a really nice smile, I had to admit.
I caught Reggie’s eye as she took her seat, flashing her a grin before turning back to my notes. Where was I? Right, past tenses. Why were there so many?
Reggie cleared her throat, pulling my focus back to her again. She was wearing a casual dress, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. When she saw she had my attention, she asked, “Making progress?”
I glared at my book. The truth of the matter was I had been making progress, up until I had hit these past tenses. French vocabulary wasn’t particularly challenging, considering the Latin roots of many of the words, which made me grateful that so much terminology in biology was rooted in Latin. However, I’d been struggling with the past tenses for a few days now, which wasn’t ideal, to say the least. “A bit,” I finally answered. “Not as much as I’d like.”
Reggie hummed thoughtfully for a moment, opening her own book and clicking her pen. She looked away from me, and began to pick up my own pen, confident that that was to be the sum of our interaction. She didn’t strike me as a particularly talkative person.
“Anything in particular you’re studying?”
Oh, so she does want to have a conversation, then.
“French,” I answered. “I thought it might prove useful - more useful than my Swendish, at least. What about you? What brings you here?” I lifted my gaze to meet hers.
She flipped up the cover of the book she had just placed on the table and replied, “Discourse on Inequality.” I felt the color rising to my cheeks as she leaned over, inspecting my own notes and book. “French, huh? I consider it to be useful in my life so far.”
My brain put two and two together in that moment, and I realized that this could be a golden opportunity. Not only could I possibly find myself another friendly face around here, but maybe she’d be willing to help me out as well. “You speak it, then? Could I ask you a question about the past tense forms of verbs, then?”
With a sigh, she straightened her posture in her chair, clicking her pen as she turned towards me. “If you must.”
Perfect. “What’s the difference between the passé antérieur and the imparfait?” I put my pen down on top of my notebook before adding, “Why would you use one over the other?”
“The passé antérieur is not something you’d have to concern yourself with.” I found myself blinking as she spoke. Her pronunciation of the words was absolutely flawless. How long had she been speaking French? With a frown, she continued, “It’s hardly ever used in speaking. Sometimes, it’s used in old literary texts, however even natives don’t use it.”
Well, shit. What had I even been studying then? The textbook I had found must have been outdated. I dared to consider how much of the rest of what I had been learning might be unnecessary as well, but then dismissed the thought. Better to be over-prepared than underprepared, I supposed. Raising my eyebrows, I picked up my pen and drew a line through my notes on the passé antérieur, glad that in the very least, I wouldn’t have to waste time rewriting them later. “I see. Thank you.” I met her gaze once again, and added, “Is there something I can help you with in return?”
At my question, she started to scoff, and I felt my heart drop in my chest a bit. It appeared that Lydia had been right after all. “I doubt,” Reggie began, trailing off as she narrowed her eyes at me. “Wait, you’re the biology student, correct?”
Well, this was a twist. I wasn’t surprised that Reggie knew who I was, considering how much I and the other girls I had spoken to had prepared ourselves on information about the other girls here, but the fact that she had chosen to identify me but that one aspect of myself was intriguing to me. It really shouldn’t have been, if I was being honest, since studying biology was, admittedly, my defining character trait for most of my life, but Reggie struck me as the kind of person who would memorize names, faces, castes, and provinces before anything else.
I smiled in response. “Yes, that’s me.”
At that, she leaned in, extending her hand towards me, a polite smile plastered on her face. A job interview smile, is what I’d always referred to that expression as. It was almost like I was sitting at the lab table with a new coworker. In fact, I half expected someone to walk in and ask us if we wanted coffee or water.
“I’m Reggie,” she stated. “Nice to meet you, first of all.”
I mirrored her expression, extending my hand and shaking hers. God, the mannerisms, in combination with the outfit I had worn - black dress pants with a red blouse - really hit home the sensation of being back at work. Yet, this time when I thought about the lab, I wasn’t overwhelmed by butterflies in my stomach or a lump forming in my throat, but rather a sense of warmth that seemed to center me, grounding me in the moment. I could get used to this.
“Yes, you’re the political science student from Hansport, correct? I’m Evalin. It’s nice to meet you, too.” I withdrew my hand, reaching over to pick up my pen, which I then tapped against my chin. “So, what can I help you with?”
She nodded, raising both of her eyebrows, as if she might be surprised that I actually knew something about her. Odd. I found myself wondering who she had spoken to before this. Were there girls here who didn’t obsess over who they’d be spending the next few months of their lives with before they came here? I couldn’t fathom the idea.
“Well,” she began, “it’s been brought to my attention that I lack some knowledge on nature.” A grimace flashed across her face, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, ecology being quite a broad field, perhaps you have some recommendations for me for some general information.”
Nature? Really? Of all things, why did she need more information on nature? Then again, who was I to stop her from learning more about anything. Maybe if she became interested enough in the subject, we could discuss it together. My main interest might be in cellular biology, but it had been so long since I’d talked to anyone about anything science related, that I’d take whatever I could get.
I hummed thoughtfully, continuing to tap my pen against my chin as I wracked my brain for titles she might find useful. “I believe I can. Are you looking for information about ecosystems, or something more along the lines of conservation or biodiversity?” I offered her an apologetic smile before adding, “Ecology is a broad field.”
She frowned, flipping through her notes for a moment before turning back to face me, her expression entirely serious. “Both. Both would be good.”
“Well,” I began, collecting my thoughts, “The Theory of Ecology by Mark Vellend might be a good place to start. Walden by Henry David Thoreau is probably right up your alley, too.” After a moment, I added, “I also have a book that I brought from home called Elements of Ecology that’s pretty comprehensive, but it’s a little dry. It definitely teaches a lot, though.” I narrowed my eyes. This might be my opportunity to learn a little more, too. Sure, she wasn’t a university professor, but she definitely appeared to be knowledgeable about political science. “Do you have any recommendations for someone who might be interested in learning more about political science, but is new to it?”
“Excellent.” She scribbled something down in her notebook, before looking back at me and blinking a couple of times. “Give me a moment.” I watched as she walked around some of the shelves, pausing to pull one off the shelf every now and then. When she was satisfied with her work, she returned to the table, placing five books down in front of me with a small smile. I decided then that I liked this side of Reggie. I was half tempted to ask her if she wanted to start a book club, considering the exchange of materials that was already happening.
Slow down. You’ve only just met her.
I returned her smile. “Thank you. I could give you my copy of Elements if Ecology, if you want. I actually think I might have it in my bag.” I reached down for my backpack, which was at my feet, leaning against the chair. It didn’t take me long to find the book. It was rather bulky, and hard to miss.
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “That would certainly be appreciated, yes. I will treat it with care, of course.”
I smiled at her, quickly pulling out some old note pages I had stored in the cover of the book before handing it over to her. “I have no doubts that you will. Keep it as long as you need.”
“Thank you, that is,” she paused for a moment, before finishing with, “kind.” She took the book, smiling politely as she quickly read the cover and walked back to her chair, sitting back down. After looking the book over some more and shaking her head, she turned back to me, inclining her head slightly. “So, you take this Selection serious enough to study for it, I see.”
“Well, I don’t want to look like a fool next to people like you, or Jen Li,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Biology may have provided me with the skills I need to be successful in a variety of fields, but it hasn’t provided me with the specialized knowledge for any settings outside of the lab.”
She held her head a little higher as she replied, “Good. Not all the girls mind looking like a fool, I suppose.” There was the Reggie Lydia seemed to expect, again. I couldn’t help but think about the other girls I had spoken to, and felt a pang of regret for not sticking up for them. Reggie, however, let out a short sigh, and then smiled at me once again. “I’m sure that with your academic background, you’ll catch up, even outside of a lab.”
I smiled a little wider at that. It was almost like being praised by a professor. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with ecology, either. It’s quite conceptual, in comparison to other subjects within biology, and intersects with various social sciences.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I’ll manage, thank you.” Again, she carefully lifted the cover of the book, checking the contents with a look of almost apprehension, a frown growing across her face. She turned back to me then, and asked, “Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately. It wasn’t a lie, but so much had happened, it was hard to pinpoint exactly how everything had left me feeling. I had discovered that it was easier to just focus on the highlights of being here. “Everybody has been kind so far, and the grounds themselves are amazing. There’s so many nice running trails, and between that, the gardens, and the access to the library, what more could I ask for, really?” I finished with a smile. “What about you?”
“I am,” she replied, though she was frowning. “It is challenging in terms of time management, but definitely a lot of new experiences.”
“Yeah,” I echoed in agreement, my eyes going a little wide as I shook my head. With a sigh, I continued, “I can relate to that. I never would have experienced even a quarter of what I’ve experienced here at home. I presume you’ve had some interesting meetings as well, then?”
She pursed her lips, but then said, “Interesting, yes, that’s probably the best way to describe them.” With a sideways glance at me, she added, “The prince is interesting as well.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” I’d hardly been able to get more than a scripted nicety out of him. What had she discussed with him? “You must have had a much more scintillating discussion than he and I did.”
To my surprise, she shook her head, frowning. “I’m not sure scintillating is the right word,” she admitted. “Only time will tell how this Selection will progress, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s for sure.” I felt my phone vibrate in my bag, and looked down at my watch, frowning when I realized what time it was. Seven hours. I had been in this library for seven whole hours. What was I doing? “Anyways, thank you for your help, but I actually have to go. I promised my sister I’d call her five minutes from now.” A lie. The buzzing of my phone in my bag was almost certainly Lydia calling me repeatedly for not calling her earlier, like I had said I would.
Reggie seemed not to notice, thankfully, and simply checked her own watch, nodding along. “Yes, of course. Thank you again. I’ll return it as soon as possible,” she finished, tapping my book for good measure.
“It was nice talking to you, Reggie,” I replied with a smile as I packed up my belongings, beginning to make my way down the hall. I wondered if she could see my bag vibrating. Maybe she’d just assume that my sister was impatient, and had called early. That would be ideal.
“Likewise,” I heard Reggie call from behind me as I made my way into the hallway.
I couldn’t help but smile as I made my way towards my room. Talking to Reggie had been nice, familiar, in a way that talking to the other girls had not. I’d have to seek her out again at some point, but right now, I had to hightail it back to my room, before Lydia screamed at me loud enough to burst my eardrums. I almost couldn’t wait to tell her that she had been wrong. Reggie was nice, and helpful, and I appreciated that.
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"Waiting on Hange, as usual," Levi complained. "Why's she taking so long, anyway? She wears the same thing every day."
"Never rush a girl when she's preparing for a party, Levi," scolded Nanaba. "It takes time."
"You threw on a dress and called it good," Levi argued.
"Cause I look good," said Nanaba, slowly spinning in her deep green dress. "Hange, on the other hand . . . Well, it's going to take her some time."
"Rude," came Hange's reply as she walked into Erwin's office, hand looped through Moblit's arm.
"Hange!" said Nanaba innocently. "That came out wrong. I just meant--"
"No, you're totally right," Hange said, waving her off. "It was just rude to say it out loud. But I think I look pretty good!"
She did. Dressed in a slim, floor-length maroon dress and heels to match, she appeared several inches taller than usual. Her hair lay in loose ringlets over her shoulders, and she'd ditched her glasses, leaving her eyes bare. Levi didn't feel at all bad about staring; only because Erwin and Mike were also staring.
Hange fidgeted uncomfortably. "It doesn't look good, does it? Petra picked it out - I should've just worn my suit."
"No, you look good," said Erwin. "Doesn't she, Levi?"
Levi cleared his throat, looking away. "Yeah, sure. I guess she cleans up nice."
Hange smiled faintly, turning away. "So, should we get going, then?"
"Yes!" said Erwin, clapping his hands together. "We shouldn't leave Zackley waiting. The party's probably already started."
"The party doesn't start till we get there," said Nanaba, bumping fists with Mike.
Erwin sighed. "That's . . . not true, but all right."
***
"Don't they serve any actual alcohol at these things?" Hange complained after downing another glass of champagne. "I'm not gonna survive this thing on these girly drinks."
"Tell me about it," said Levi. "I've already had fifteen glasses. It's like drinking water."
"The correct term is fifteen flutes," said Nanaba, also drinking them at an alarming rate. "I wish they were full glasses, though."
"Can't you behave for a single night?" asked Erwin. "Zackley was kind enough to invite us out here for dinner."
"He invited us out of obligation," Levi corrected. "Technically, he only invited you. We just tagged along because you wanted us to, and he can't really kick us out."
The others nodded in agreement, to which Erwin simply sighed. "A single night. . . ."
Nanaba stood up. "I'm bored. Mike, come dance with me."
Mike took her hand and led her out to the dance floor with the other couples. Moblit cleared his throat, tugging at the color of his shirt.
"I don't suppose you'd like to dance, Section Commander?"
Hange grabbed a tray from a passing waiter, placing the tray of champagne between her and Levi. "No, not particularly. I'm not drunk enough to dance in these heels yet."
"Well, if it's 'drunk' you're shooting for, you won't find it there."
The four veterans still seated looked up at Nile.
“I don't suppose you know where we could find it?" asked Hange, twirling a curl around her finger and batting her eyelashes.
"Stop trying to flirt; it's uncomfortable for everyone," said Nile. "But yes, I do happen to know where you could find some real alcohol."
Hange stood up, pulling Levi with her. "We're in."
***
"How much did you drink?" Moblit asked, staring at Hange in mild horror.
She shrugged, downing another flute of champagne. "Not that much."
"Not that much compared to what's down in that cellar," Levi said, slowly stirring the contents of his glass. "I've never seen so much wine in my life."
Hange giggled. "I dunno, I was seeing double by the time we left."
Erwin stood up. "I'm going to go find someone else to talk to before I lose my mind. Moblit, please keep an eye on her."
"Always do, sir."
As Erwin left, Hange stood up suddenly. "Levi, come dance with me."
"No," said Levi.
"Please?"
"I don't trust you to not throw up on me."
"I won't, I promise."
Levi looked up at her, resolve slipping slightly at the sparkling excitement in her eyes. "No."
She pouted, tilting her head to the side. "But I wanna dance with you."
Levi's heart fluttered in an emotion he refused to acknowledge. He was allowed to admit that she looked gorgeous, and that a large part of him did want to dance with her. But agreeing to dance with her was admitting that he liked her in a way he didn't like anyone else. He wasn't ready to do that.
"Please?" Hange tried again, clasping her hands together beneath her chin. "I'll love you forever if you do."
Love you forever. She was drunk, Levi knew that. She probably wouldn't even remember this by the next morning. But she'd love him forever if he agreed.
"Fine," Levi sighed, dragging himself out of his chair. "One dance."
"Yay!" Hange beamed, rosy cheeks stretching as her eyes creased. Levi had never really noticed how truly beautiful she was before. Maybe it was because she'd never really tried before. But she'd gone all out for this party (or, Petra had), and Levi felt it was all right to appreciate it.
Taking his hand, Hange pulled him out to the dance floor. In a smooth movement, she pulled him close enough that they were practically touching. With the added height of her heels, her chin almost passed the top of his head. She placed her hand on his shoulder as his hand found her waist. He refused to meet her eyes, staring pointedly at the other couples on the dance floor.
"I shouldn't have worn heels," Hange stated. "It's weird being this much taller than you."
"Yeah."
"But I guess it doesn't really matter. We're just dancing, anyway."
"Hm."
Hange sighed. "You didn't have to dance with me if you didn't want to. I could've asked Moblit."
Levi looked up at her. "Then why didn't you?"
Hange met his eyes, frowning in thought. "I guess . . . because I'd be more comfortable dancing with you?"
Levi tried not to think too much of those words. "And why's that?"
"Well, we're friends, aren't we?"
"You and Moblit aren't?"
"Well, no, but . . ." She pouted. "I can't think straight."
"I told you not to drink that third bottle."
Hange scowled. "It's not that."
Levi raised an eyebrow. "What else could it be?"
Hange stared at him, and he swore he saw the faintest blush spreading across her cheeks. "Nothing!" she said. "Like I said, can't think straight. . . ."
"Well, for what it's worth, you're not the worst dancing partner," Levi said, carefully avoiding looking at her face.
"Aw, thanks," she said. "I tried dancing with Erwin once but he said I stepped on his feet too much, and then he said he's never dancing with me again."
Levi snorted. "Of course. Well, I've never really danced before, so I can't tell if you're okay or absolutely horrible."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
“Sure."
The already calm music slowed down even more. Levi watched as couples pulled each other closer, gazing lovingly into each others' eyes. Hange tensed, her hand gripping Levi's shoulder, though she didn't pull away. She was waiting for Levi to make a move, he realized. She was leaving the decision to him: did they move closer, or did they go back to the table?
He came to the surprising realization that he didn't want to stop dancing with Hange. It wasn't that he enjoyed dancing - he really didn't - he just enjoyed having her this close. He made a split-second decision.
He didn't pull away. He didn't lead her back to the table where they could drink the rest of the night away. He let his hand slip from her waist to her hip, clearing his throat faintly. Hange, in response, took the smallest step forward. Neither said a word at the shift; simply continued to move in time to the music.
Levi glanced up at Hange, only to find her staring at him. Hange, in all of her brave glory, continued to openly stare at him, even after being caught in the act. He found that he didn't quite mind. Maybe all that alcohol was messing with him more than he thought. . . . Her eyes were faintly glossy, and when she smiled at him it was crooked. A blush had settled across her cheeks, though she didn't seem embarrassed. Lifting her hand from Levi's shoulder, she swept her hair over her right shoulder, letting it fall over her chest. Something in him grew warm as she released his hand to clasp hers behind his neck. She left him with only the option to place his empty hand on her other hip.
Without even meaning to, they'd moved closer together. His stomach flipped as he focused on the feeling of Hange's soft breath against his forehead. She was looking sleepier by the second; he really should have stopped her after the second bottle. Then again, Nile had told them to help themselves. . . .
"I like this," Hange said, so softly Levi wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "I haven't enjoyed myself at a party in . . . forever. . . ."
Levi swallowed, wondering when he'd started to feel the same. "I suppose it's not the worst time I've had."
Hange smiled, nodding. "Beats watching friends die in the jaws of Titans, right?"
". . . Right." Glancing to the side, Levi caught Erwin's gaze. Erwin was watching them, probably had been watching them. Levi shifted his gaze away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Why was Erwin watching them? Mike and Nanaba were much closer than Levi and Hange, and they were certainly acting more romantic with each other. Why wasn't Erwin watching them? Why Levi and Hange?
“Is something wrong?" Hange asked.
Levi looked up, meeting her warm gaze. She looked genuinely concerned, and slightly guilty, as if she'd done something wrong. She hadn't done anything wrong. She never had. Levi couldn't think of a single instance where he'd ever found himself truly mad at her. She was perfect.
"Levi?" she prompted, frowning.
"You make me sick," he muttered, looking away from her.
". . . What?"
"You heard me."
Hange's hands broke apart, trailing back to rest on his shoulders. "I see. . . ." She smiled, and in an overly cheery voice announced, "I don't know about you, but I need a drink." Without waiting for a response, she pulled away from Levi, hurrying back to the table.
***
Hange laid across her desk, flicking her pencil back and forth. She couldn't get Levi's words out of her head. She couldn't figure out what he meant by them, but more than that, she couldn't figure out why she felt so hurt by them.
Upon getting back to her room the previous night, she'd immediately taken out the curls, shoved the dress and heels into the darkest pits of her closet, and washed off the perfume. She'd felt strange enough wearing such attire, but had Levi really hated it that much? Why did she care so much what Levi thought?
The night was a blur, to an extent. She remembered everything pretty clearly, though there were gaps, spots where she was unsure if something had really happened or if she was imagining it. She was confident that she wasn't imagining Levi's words. The morning after parties, Levi typically joined Hange in her lab with breakfast and they would complain together, though he hadn't showed up all morning. Why else would he avoid her unless she really had appalled him that much?
Hange sighed, lifting her head off the desk. She'd been avoiding her work in favor of moping around, but she knew better. Dwelling on Levi would do no good. She would just have to confront him about it later.
***
Hange was in her lab, as she often was. Immersed in her work, Levi wasn't sure she'd even heard him enter. That was okay; he liked watching her jump when he managed to sneak up on her. And jump she did.
"Levi!" She practically flung herself from the desk in her hurry to stand. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Clearly," he replied. "You missed dinner. Moblit said to bring this for you."
Hange looked at the plate in his hand, taking it from him cautiously. "Taking orders from Moblit now?"
It was an excuse to visit you, Levi wanted to say. He wasn't sure she'd accept that.
"Can't have you starving," he said.
"Oh, so you do care," Hange said. She was teasing, he knew that, though something was missing. That usual glimmer in her eyes, the enjoyment of harmlessly bickering with him. Instead, she looked serious.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Levi.
“Hm? Oh, nothing." She smiled. "Thank you for the food."
"Of course."
Levi didn't want to leave, though there was no excuse for him to stay longer. So he turned, walked back toward the door.
"What did you mean last night?" Hange's voice stopped him in his tracks. "When we were dancing, I mean. . . ."
"I'm not sure," said Levi, turning back toward her. "What did I say?"
Hange stared at him. "You . . . don't remember?"
Levi shrugged. "I can't think of anything I might’ve said that would require you to bring it up again."
"Right. . . . Of course."
Levi watched her for a moment, until she finally looked up at him.
"So, you, um . . . Er, we're . . . We're good, right?" she asked. "We're okay?"
"Why wouldn't we be?"
The faintest smile crossed her face. "Oh. Okay, well, that's good."
"Is there anything else?"
"No. No, I'm good." Hange smiled broadly. "Thanks for stopping by."
"Yeah, well, just make sure you eat it."
Truthfully, Levi knew exactly what Hange was speaking of. He too had spent all day mulling over the words, wondering what had driven him to say such a thing. He knew she'd been offended the moment she pulled away, and he knew she continued to be offended all day. He wasn't sure whether she was purposely avoiding him, or whether she was simply busy, but when Moblit had suggested bringing food to Hange, Levi had been quick to volunteer. It was an excuse to see her, an excuse to see whether or not she was upset with him. He found himself comforted by the knowledge that she wasn't truly mad at him.
It had been a poor choice of words. All he'd meant was that seeing her like that - dolled up and formal - made his stomach flip and feel as if a pack of wild birds were trying to escape. He'd meant no offense, though he was unsurprised that Hange had taken it in such a way. Perhaps someday he'd be able to tell her how he truly felt. For now, it was all he could do to hope that she felt the same.
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summahsunlight · 5 years ago
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We Belong to the Stars, Ch. 25
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Rating: Mature (18+ only)
Word Count: 2765
Pairings: Poe/Skywalker!OC
Characters: Poe Dameron, Leia Organa, BB-8, Kaleb Skywalker (OC), Evelyn Skywalker (OC), Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, Snap Wexley, Jessika Pava, BB-8
Read on AO3
Taglist: @ms-dont-care​ If you want to be added to the taglist let me know :)
Alarm klaxons blasted throughout the base signaling heavy causalities were incoming.
Evelyn pushed her way into the command center, hearing the frantic radio messages and communications.  "Is it Black Squadron?" She asked, grabbing Kaydel by the arm.  When the younger woman wouldn't answer her because her aunt had given them strict orders to keep Evelyn out of the loop--Evelyn shouted, "Is it Black Squadron?"
Kaydel could only nod her head before getting back to work; Evelyn tore off towards the surface of the planet. This was the worst part of being grounded, she couldn't help out her team, she couldn't help Poe.  For the last two months she had watched as Poe led mission after mission, as she was forced to sit on the sidelines.  Heart thundering in her chest, Evelyn made it to the surface just as four x-wings touched down. Immediately she could see that they were heavily damaged and chaos broke out on the flight pad.
Medics were running in, fire crews were dousing the flames on the fighters, and people were shouting, trying desperately to be heard over the blaring alarms.  Evelyn ducked underneath mechanical crew and headed straight for Poe's x-wing.  BB-8 was being lowered from the socket, beeping wildly and the little droid rushed at her when he caught sight of her.
"It's okay, BeeBee," Evelyn assured him, even if in that moment she didn't feel it. 
"Lieutenant, I need you to get out of the way, ma'am," someone said behind her and she felt fingers grasping her arm. 
Evelyn turned to see a medic pushing her back as the hatch to Black One hissed open. Immediately the medics swarmed the fighter, she didn't even know she was holding her breath until she heard Poe shouting at them that he was fine.  Letting out the breath, she reached down and gave a very anxious BB-8 some belly scratches. 
Poe emerged from the cockpit, shoving his helmet at one of the medics before gingerly peeling himself out of the pilot's seat. "I'm fine!" he hissed when the medics insisted on looking at him. "Just some bruising; I'll live."
She didn't know why but that statement made her eyes fill with tears and she released her frustration in a choked sob.  BB-8 nudged her, trying to comfort her, and moaned softly that he was sorry she wasn't flying with them anymore; he missed her. 
"I miss her too, BeeBee," Poe said before pulling Evelyn into his arms. "It's okay; we're fine."
"I hate this, Poe," Evelyn whimpered against his flight suit which smelled like smoke and engine oil. "I hate that I'm not out there with you."
He pressed a kiss to her temple. Poe pulled away from her, wrapped his arm around her torso, and headed back towards the base. He was barely concealing the winces on his face as he walked, but she didn't argue with him.  "I need to speak to General Organa--update her on what happened out there."
Evelyn nodded and walked with him. She looked over her shoulder at the medics attempting to tend to the other members of Black Squadron. It turned out that all the pilots were equally as stubborn when it came to seeking medical treatment. Glancing back at Poe, she asked, "What did happen out there, Poe?"
Poe sighed, heavily. "A mess--a big giant mess.  We need to figure out whose leaking information to the First Order and we need to figure it out now. Otherwise, we're going to be dealing with worse than Karé breaking her leg."
"Karé broke her leg?" 
"Yeah, as we were escaping Terex and his thugs again."
"Who are you going to suggest replaces her?"
"You."
"Wait? What?"
He stopped and turned to face her. Poe could see the confusion in her eyes, after all, she had been grounded for two months.  "On the way back here, I got to thinking--our latest missions--those have been for your aunt--Dane has no idea what Black Squadron is doing.  As much as I hate the guy--he's not our mole."
She wasn't quite following his reasoning as to why he wanted her back on the squad.  Evelyn stepped aside as someone rushed by her, heading towards the surface.  "But you said yourself that there's no way Snap, Jess, Karé or L'ulo would betray the Resistance."
Poe nodded. "Yeah, that is until Terex knew exactly where to fire to disable Karé's fighter--she's lucky she got out of there with only a broken leg.  Who knows our fighters better than us, Evie?"
Evelyn paused, understanding flashing in her blue eyes. "Mechanics--they know our ships just as well as we do if not better. So you think...you think one of our mechanics is the mole?"
"Only theory that makes sense."
"Why would one of our mechanics betray us like this?"
"I don't know," Poe said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the command center. "But I intend to find out."
"How?" Evelyn asked, walking along with him.  "Are you even sure you know which mechanic it is?"
There was no response from him, partially because Poe didn't have any idea which mechanic was snitching on them, and partially because they had entered the command center and Leia was gesturing for them to join her in the situation room.  "Have a seat," she instructed the two pilots.  "We have a lot to discuss."
Evelyn shot Poe a glance as he sat down, wincing in pain as he did so.  A brief look of concern washed over Leia's face as she noticed the pain Poe was in, but knowing the commander, Leia didn't bring it up.  After this meeting was over, Evelyn was going to drag his ass down to the medcenter and have the medics look at him.  She didn't care if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming--he was going. She knew it was more than just some bruising. 
Leia called something up on the holotable, watching Poe and Evelyn's expressions intensely.  "Red Squadron was able to obtain the rest of those plans for the First Order base."
Poe blinked, eyes wide. "That looks a lot bigger than the Death Star."
"Because it is," Leia said, solemnly. "It's a base entirely built into a planet."
"How is the weapon charged?" Evelyn asked, anxiously.
"Agent Dane is working on decrypting the transmissions from Agent Lothor; engineers are looking at the specs."
"Is it operational?"
"Not yet. Maybe in another six to eight months."
Poe smiled, wistfully at Evelyn. "So... that gives us plenty of time to figure out how to blow it up."
Evelyn looked at him, incredulously. "I know you're trying to be funny... but at the same time you make a great point."
Leia shut the holoimage down.  "We might not have all the time in the galaxy, but... we have enough time that I think Black Squadron has earned a break, Commander."
Standing, Poe nodded his head, noticing that Evelyn was watching him closely.  "There's one more thing I wanted to discuss with you, ma'am."
"Yes. Evelyn is back on the squadron."
"What--how did you know that was what I was going to ask?"
The General's response was a gentle smile, and then an order for Poe to report to the med bay-- Evelyn offered to take him there herself. Poe argued the entire way out of the situation room that he didn't need to see a doctor, to which Evelyn argued that the wincing in pain every time he moved slightly was because she knew how hard he flew, how hard he pushed himself in the cockpit--she was taking him to the med bay.  
Chuckling, Leia shook her head.  Poe and Evelyn's bickering reminded her of herself and Han--L'ulo had been right all those weeks ago when he'd claimed that the young pilots were very much like a certain princess and smuggler.  Feeling a heaviness press on her chest, Leia hoped that Poe and Evelyn's story had a much happier ending that hers.
"How's the prince?" Snap asked when Evelyn joined the group of pilots at dinner.
"Stubborn," Evelyn responded, sitting down next to her brother. "But he was right--it really is just some bruising."
Kaleb laughed. "You're not going to live that down--that Poe was right.  He's going to remind you every chance he gets about this. Where is he anyway?"
Evelyn sighed and looked over her shoulder. "He went to take a shower, apparently he wasn't hungry." 
"Well, he's going to miss out," Jess said, holding up a bottle of brandy. "We're heading down to the lake after this to kickback."
"Sure you want him drunk again?" Kaleb quipped, grinning. "You do remember that last time he got drunk, right?"
"According to him--he wasn't," Snap chuckled.  
Kaleb frowned, slightly. He'd seen Poe a hell of lot drunker than he'd been the night down at the beach--but, Jas Dane had also not been around, hovering around Evelyn and calling her disparaging names. "Yeah well, thanks to him I have to deal with Dane and I'm pretty sure if I punch him my aunt is going to kill me."
Snap shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'd look the other way if I were her.  It's not like Dane doesn't deserve being punched--in fact, I'm pretty sure that if you did hit him, he probably would have done something to deserve it."
Evelyn had noticed that ever since the fight on the beach, Jas had been keeping his distance from Black Squadron, partially because Leia had assigned Kaleb's squadron to retrieve the transmissions from Lothor.  She didn't expect him, however, to change his attitude.  It would take more than Poe beating him up to accomplish that. She finished up her dinner, decided that she wasn't going join the other pilots down by the lake.
Jess looked at her, curiously. "Where are you going to go?" 
Smiling, Evelyn replied, "to make sure the prince doesn't get into any trouble tonight."
Sunset on D’Qar reminded him of home.  Poe climbed his favorite grassy hill, deciding to skip a night of drunken revelry with his friends, and opted for the quiet of a late summer sunset.  The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon when he spread the thin, worn blanket out and sat down.  After being given the rest of the evening off, Poe had taken the opportunity the to freshen up after spending almost four days away from base.  It felt good to be out the flight suit and gear and in his familiar leather jacket. 
Cool metal brushed against his hand and Poe smiled.  It also felt good to have his trusty droid at his side. BB-8 had been following him around, concerned with how tired his master appeared, but Poe didn't mind.  After all, the little droid had kept his rekindled romance with Evelyn a secret since they had kissed on the light freighter months ago now.  Even though he was pretty sure everyone was aware that they were back together, BB-8 still hadn't said a word to the others.  Poe sighed, feeling his muscles ache. The mission had been dangerous but they had still gotten additional information that might lead them to Lor San Tekka.  Poe closed his eyes for a moment, letting the setting sun warm his face.  It had been a long day… an incredibly long day…
“Do you mind if I join you?” Evelyn’s voice questioned, quietly, behind him.
“Of course not,” Poe replied, opening his eyes.  He watched as she sat down next to him, sun reflecting in her copper brown hair.  Gods, is she beautiful, he thought as he reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. “Not in the mood to join in on the drinking tonight?”
Evelyn shook her head. "No.  I think I've had enough of cantinas and bars and drinking for a while."
Poe chuckled and draped his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close to him. "Me too."
She snuggled against the perfect nook between his arm and shoulder, noticing that he winced slightly.  "Does this hurt?"
He kissed the top of her head. "For you, I'll take a little bit of pain if it means I can hold you." He turned his attention to the last bit of sunlight in the sky, watching as the sun dipped completely below the horizon and out of sight.  The air around them instantly cooled now that the warmth of the sun was gone and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evelyn shiver.  “Are you cold?”
Wrapping her arms around her upper body, Evelyn shrugged. “A little; I didn't really plan a head when I went looking for you.”
“Here,” he said, starting to peel his jacket off, “take mine.”
“Poe,” she protested as he draped it over her shoulders, “you don’t have too.”
“I’m trying to be chivalrous here, Evie.”
“You don’t have to be!”
“I want to be!”
“Sometimes you're so difficult.”
He laughed at the remark, his dark brown eyes sparkling.  Poe held onto his jacket, now hanging over her shoulders.  “There. Warmer?”
She felt color rise to her cheeks underneath his gaze.  “Yes. Thank you.”
Poe held her gaze a little longer than he had expected to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her.  Kiss her, he told himself, but was completely transfixed by her; her eyes, the curve of her lips, how his jacket was much too big on her…
Evelyn smiled at him, coyly.  "You know you can kiss me, right? I think I've established that I'm alright with that."
Slowly, using his hold on the jacket to guide him, Poe pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss.  He released his hold on the jacket and wrapped his strong arms around her waist, guiding her towards the blanket.  Her mouth opened this his, and he deepened the kiss as he laid her down underneath him. 
Closing her eyes, Evelyn sighed, as Poe’s lips began to kiss her along her jawline, behind her ear, and then down to her collarbone.  She felt a fire spread across her skin wherever his lips touched her.
Poe pulled back, his left hand idly stroking her hip. “Hey, BeeBee-Ate?”
BB-8 beeped, his eye socket watching every move his master made.
“You can head back to base; I’m sure you need a recharge by now,” Poe said, kissing Evelyn, hungrily.  “Oh, and still not a word of this…to anyone… got it?”
There was a chirping affirmative from BB-8, before he rolled away, down the grassy hill and back towards the base.   Poe smiled as he leaned down to capture her lips once again with his own.  She yielded to his gentle pressure, allowing him to deepen their kiss.  He pressed her back into the thin blanket underneath him, his arms wrapping tightly about her, hands burying in her soft hair.  Their legs became entangled the heavier their kisses became, and he felt what little control he had over his senses slipping away as desire took hold of him.
He broke their kiss, breathing hard, and slowly pressed kisses into the hollow of her neck, dipping lower and lower until he was kissing the top of her chest.  Her hands tightened in his hair, he heard her little gasps of pleasure and felt a shiver run up his spine.
Poe pulled back, raising his head to gaze at her.  Evelyn was breathing just as hard as he was, her hair spread out around her on the blanket, evident that hands had been playing in it mere moments before. He grinned at her just before he kissed her once again and pressed his body into hers because he wanted to feel as much of her as he could between the fabric of their clothing.
Evelyn began to unbutton his shirt. One hand idly drifting south towards the waistband of his trousers…
....and his com link went off, interrupting the heated moment, and requesting that he gather Black Squadron to meet in the situation room.
"Damn it," Poe sighed after the com link shut down. "I knew having the whole night off was too good to be true."
"It has to be important if Aunt Leia is calling for us, after giving us the night off," Evelyn replied, idly playing with his curls.
Poe closed his eyes and nodded.  He sat up, holding his hand out to her to help her up.  Opening his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Let's go see what they want."
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portals-to-a-new-world · 5 years ago
Text
Come Hell or High Water Chapter 3: Over the Creek and Through the Woods
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Summary:
Went to the lake, assisted in peace negotiations following a heartless attack on an innocent population. Also, Leonard McCoy is a soft bastard and Jim does a lobster impression.
Notes:
Southern Baptism- "Hold 'em under till the bubbles stop"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Word Count: 2153
As far as mornings go, it really couldn’t get any better than waking up to the smell of bacon and rolling over to find one Leonard McCoy sleeping peacefully, no trace of stress on his face. Judging by the movements downstairs, breakfast was getting close to being ready, so you leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his lips before moving to get out of bed. Leonard, it seemed, had other plans as his arm shot out and wrapped around your waist to pull you back into him. “Leeen. Come on, let me go I need to shower.” You giggled as he buried his face in your neck.
“Just a few more minutes, darlin’,” He mumbled sleepily. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only pulled you tighter against him.
“If I said you can join me in the shower, would you get up?” His movements stilled, clearly debating the choice. You grinned as he kissed your neck, knowing you’d won. “No funny business, though. I’ve scarred enough of your family members as it is.” You said as you rolled out of his grasp. You weren’t sure if it was your words or the knock at the door that caused Leonard to let out a groan and bury his face in his pillow.
“Bones! (Y/n)! Breakfast is on the table in 30, and El’ says we need to head out by 10 if we want to avoid trekking in the heat.” You didn’t even get to yell out an acknowledgment to Jim before the sound of rapid footsteps and calls of dibs on the bacon drew him away. You shook your head and smiled as you grabbed some light clothes to put on over your swimsuit after you finished in the shower. Leonard still hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, so you threw a nearby pair of socks at his head.
“Come on, if we don’t hurry all the bacon will be gone,” He only offered a mumble into the pillow and wave of his hand in response, so you went into the bathroom to start your morning routine. You weren’t in the shower two minutes before the curtain was pulled back, and Len stepped in. He hissed and wrapped his arms around you as the water hit him. “Morning, beautiful,” You said as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response as he grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips to kiss your palm. You giggled as he began to trail kisses along your arm, across your shoulders, and up your neck. “Leo,” You warned half-heartedly as he nipped gently at the spot below your ear that always made you weak.
“Shh, let me love on you a minute, sugar,” Your resolve began to falter as his hands began to wander, and you huffed out a sigh as you turned to face him.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He grinned and leaned down for a kiss. “McCoy, I’m serious. If all the bacon has been consumed when we get down there, I’m taking it out of your ass.” He shook his head and reached behind you to grab his shampoo.
“I’d say I can’t believe you’d choose food over me, but I know you too well to be surprised,”
“Exactly, now hurry up,” Fortunately for Leonard, there was plenty of bacon left by the time you both made it downstairs. After helping clean up and pack a picnic basket for lunch, you headed out for the considerable hike to the lake. Your path led you through a picture-perfect forest, and you nearly tripped on no less than 4 gnarled roots as you tried to take in your surroundings all at once. Joanna had fallen into step beside you and was in the middle of telling you about the latest chapter of the book she’d been reading, when a wild Jim came crashing between you, cackling like a madman with a hollering Leonard hot on his tail.
“GET BACK HERE YOU CORN-FED INGRATE,” You turned to a bewildered Jo, and threw your hands up dramatically.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?” She burst out laughing, and by the time you’d reached the lake, you were both in stitches over the ridiculous things you’d been through thanks to your boyfriend and captain. “I’m serious, Jo! The tribbles were up to his chest, and more just kept falling and hitting him upside the head!” Leonard’s head shot around with a grin as you approached where he’d sat down in the grass.
“Are you talking about that time on K7?” You nodded, laughing too hard to speak. “I was gonna take a picture, but that damn Undersecretary got in the way,” You cocked your head at him as you caught your breath.
“Did I not tell you I got the security footage of it from the station?” His eyes went wide as a grin spread across his face.
“You did not!” He didn’t even try to hide his delight as Jim approached cautiously.
“I know that look. Why does he have the look, (y/n)?” Jim said as his eyes darted between the three of you. You offered a shrug and tried not to grin when you saw Joanna do the same. Leonard’s reached out his hand, and you grabbed him to help pull him off the ground.
“C’mon old man,” You quipped as you pulled sharply on his arm. “Need me to get you a walker?” He leveled a glare at you, and you just stuck your tongue out in response.
“Jim, you remembered your sunscreen, right? You’ve been out here less than an hour, and you’re already lookin like a pale lobster,” Jim’s face fell for a moment before he turned and waved a dismissive hand.
“Of course I did, Bones,” You looked over at Joanna and gestured between the two men as if to say ‘See what I mean?’ “Besides, shouldn’t you be more concerned about the heat?” Jim dragged his hand across his sweat-drenched forehead as he stepped into the water.
“Oh, goody! Is this the part where I get to say I told you so?” You quipped, earning a splash of water from Jim. Unfortunately for him, Leonard got caught in the crossfire; and unfortunately for you, you made the mistake of laughing when Leonard spun on his heel so quickly he nearly lost his balance. You started to step back when an evil grin took over his face, and as he took a step forward, you turned to make a break for the safety of the trees. You made it barely three steps before you found yourself being lifted and carried back towards the water.
“Leonard Horatio, don’t you DARE throw me into this lake-” The words had barely left your lips when he did precisely that, and as you broke the surface, you caught sight of Joanna launching herself onto Jim’s back, forcefully dragging him under the water. Leonard was nowhere to be found, and you spun in a circle trying to locate him before he could strike again. You squealed and splashed at him when he popped up directly in front of you with a grin. “You butthead!” He just laughed and pulled you into his arms.
“You know you love it, sweetheart,” He said, but before you could reply, Jim’s head broke the surface, yelling like a wounded bloodhound.
“TrUcE!”
“What’s all this hollering about?” Donna’s voice cut over his as she approached the lakeside.
“Jim attacked an unsuspecting population, and the people retaliated. I believe peace negotiations were just about to start,” You called as you pushed off from Leonard’s chest. Donna just shook her head and laughed. The rest of the day saw two more calls for various truces, one threat of a southern baptism, and many many laughs shared between the family. As the day began to wind down, you decided to swim one last lap of the lake, and as you returned to the shore, you found Joanna arguing with her father.
“But Dad, it’s tradition! You don’t even have to come, I’ll take (y/n) with me so she can keep an eye on me,” She said as you walked up.
“Take me where?” You asked as you vainly attempted to towel your hair dry. Stupid humidity
“There’s a cave near one of the waterfalls up the creek. Every year before school starts, we take a rock from the shore here and carry it up to the cave for good luck,” Jo said, pleading with her eyes. You looked over to Len, finding his eyes for only a moment before he spun away from you, but oh, the emotions you saw in that moment.
“I said no, Joanna! That cave has brought nothing but bad luck, and I ain’t letting you go up there. Now, come on before the sun starts going down.” He yelled, causing both you and Jim to flinch. Joanna looked heartbroken but still followed him nonetheless.
“Yes, sir.” She said, and you walked forward to loop your arm through hers. What in the hell could have happened at that cave for him to react so harshly? Sure, Leonard was always an overprotective grump, but you’d never seen him yell at Jo before. Not to mention the maelstrom of emotions you saw in his eyes. Joanna seemed to know what you were thinking about, as she spoke up once Leonard had gotten out of earshot. “I fell going up there a few years back and broke my arm,”
“He hates a cave because you fell?” You asked, not altogether surprised. She hesitated, clearly debating something. You stopped to give her time and ensure that Len wouldn’t stumble back into the conversation.
“I think he hates it because it was his tradition in the first place. Him and-” She cut herself off as the man himself came back through the trees. As he walked up, you leveled a glare at him, and he held up a placating hand.
“Jo, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Why don’t you go on ahead, and I’ll help (Y/n) avoid the roots,” He said softly, holding his arms open for her to hug him. She didn’t even hesitate to go wrap her arms around him.
“It’s okay, Daddy. I still love you,” Try as he might, there was no hiding the tears that welled up at her words, not that you would tease him for them anyway. He placed a kiss on her temple before letting her go, and she smiled at you before turning to go on ahead. He held out his hand to you, and you took it, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“You wanna tell me what that was about, Leo?” You asked a little farther down the path. He’d been silent so far, and he didn’t respond right away either.
“You have a secret spot growing up? Like where you’d hang out or whatever?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so. I assume the cave was yours?” He nodded as he held back a particularly large branch from the path.
“I spent most of my high school days in that cave. I came up with the rock thing at the end of summer before my freshman year; in the hopes that I would ask a girl out, and she’d say yes. Which she did.” It didn’t take you two seconds to realize who he meant. Jocelyn “I took a rock up there at the start of every school year after that, and so did she. Then after we graduated, I took her up there one more time, to ask her to marry me,” Your heart broke for him, and you stopped and pulled on his hand to wrap him in a hug.
“Len I-”
“No, I shouldn’t have let it get to me. It’s been years since that now,” He said as he slowly relaxed beneath your touch.
“It’s okay, you’re human. What’s important is that you apologized to Joanna. She’s growing up, and she understands why you’re upset,”
“You think so?” You pulled back to look at him.
“I know so,” He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Come on, Doctor McCoy. I need a shower and so do you,”
“Is that your way of telling me I smell like lake?”
“Yep!” You said with a cheerful grin. Leonard just shook his head as you both continued onto the house. After a quick shower and several rejected offers to help with the cooking, you found yourself once again seated at the table next to Eleanora, this time though there were two people missing. “Where’s Jim and Leonard?” The answer came in the form of muffled shouting and crashing from upstairs.
“Damn it, Jim! I told you to use the waterproof sunscreen!”
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Notes:
Yes the baptism thing is a joke I promise we don't drown people anymore. I honestly struggled quite a bit with this chapter so if it's not up to my normal standard please forgive me. I've started a new full time job that literally drains me to the point where I come home and collapse so that's why this chapter was so late. Anyway enough with my excuses, next chapter is going to feature back to school shopping with Jo and Donna. As always thank you for your continued support and I'm so excited for things to come!
Love y'all <3
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