#and I do still think that could be accomplished while ruining miles and making sure Helen’s actions bring him down

[herenya-writes]

okay I’m done with the glass onion reblogs. good movie 10/10 will be rewatching

[witch-hazels-musings]

Can I request how Lisa and Sucrose would react to there long time female friend confessing romantic feelings for them? and maybe like first date ideas?

i’ve always loved you 

Warning -> SFW, fluff (kissing) 

Character X FM Reader | Anthology 

Includes:  Sucrose, Lisa

Sucrose

She’s so shocked! She honestly wonders if she really understood you? What you just said to her cannot be accurate, right? 

“Sucrose … I like you.” You state, your eyes moving from her and down to the thumb you’ve been clenching in your fist for a while now. 

“ ...w-what? Oh, you mean l-like as a friend? Well, I am quite fond of you too.” She’s clearly flustered and since she either didn’t seem to get your first confession, or was playing it off as a joke, you try again. 

“Not like that, I have feelings for you.” Reaching out to her arm you hope the connection will make the confession more clear. The color of her cheeks turn bright pink as she comes to realize what you meant, and the reaction that follows is so adorable you think you’ll die. 

The bottle in her hands slips from her grasp as she exclaims and pulls her hands to cover her mouth. The crashing bottle splatters around your feet while she takes a second to register all of these things happening at once.

“Ah! I’m s-so sorry … let me g-get something to clean it up … with …” She turns around and grabs a nearby towel but you’ve already started on the mess by the time she returns. “N-no let me get that, it was m-my mess.” Her hand extends toward the glass but you capture her fingers before they can reach. Elegantly, you pull them to your lips and give them a quick peck before letting her take control of them again. 

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

She’s so flustered, how is it that someone like you can like someone as unprepared for love as her - she just cannot understand 

Her heart is pounding so hard in her chest, her mind is going a mile a minute and all she can think about how incredible you look in front of her 

She wants to reach out and touch you, but her hand is still so hot from where you kissed 

You finish cleaning up the rest of the glass before dumping it into the garbage bin. Looking down, Sucrose hasn’t moved from her crouched position and you hope your confession didn’t totally ruin the relationship you had with her. 

“Listen, I know that was sudden. I just … I don’t know,” You rub the back of your arm and squeeze the skin there. “I have liked you for so long and I really wanted to tell you … anyway if you don’t feel the same or whatever you …” “NO!” She shoots up and catches you off-guard. 

“Oh … okay…”

“Oh no, I mean … I’m sorry, I like you ... “ Clasping her fingers together and pressing them against to her legs, she avoids your gaze but bravely continues, “more than a f-friend. I like you, too.” 

Archons, she’s so cute? You can’t hold back anymore and with emboldened confidence you lean forward and press your lips against her hot cheek. She practically explodes, a huge gust of wind erupts from her and knocks several more things off the counter, papers scatter, containers shift, and unconfined specimens are lost on the wind. 

“Ah … I’m sorry.” She covers her face and you respond with giddy laughter. 

“Cute.”

You love to watch her get excited and to know she likes you back? Well, you are just over the moon 

Your first date idea is something you know she will enjoy. You want to make sure she is comfortable and so the first thing that comes to your mind is taking her on a little adventure  - somewhere she can explore, someplace to study or conduct research - if she smiles that’s all that matters to you

“Look at this!! I’ve only ever seen this species in books. I wonder if the season and weather have an impact on it’s growth cycle.” She bent close to the plant, her fingers cupping ever so gently underneath it as not to disturb its existence. She was always so generous, be it people, animals, or plants she was the kindest person you had ever met. 

“You look like you were meant to be here.” You express, taking up space at her side. 

“Really? I just really love to unearth secrets. When I finally get the answer to a question that’s been on my mind, I feel exhilarated by the accomplishment. Perhaps, I should ... adjust my excitement?” 

“I will never hold you back in your love for research, that’s why I choose this location for our date.” 

“Ah! Yes, this is a d-date. You’re right, what should … what do we do on dates?” 

“We are doing it right now.”

“Are we …?” 

“Yes, are you having fun?” You asked, tracking her gaze with the movement of your head, your question light but important. 

“Yes!” 

“Then perfect, the date is going well.” Her face shifts hues and for the thousandth time today, the word cute runs through your mind. 

Lisa

She already knows - she’s known for such a long time and is honestly impressed that you had the guts to finally tell her your true feelings 

Lisa is wildly observant, she has to be in order to stop people from slipping one too many books into their bags without following the rules of the library. So, she’s clearly picked up the different ways you act between her and some of the other people you commonly interact with 

She especially can spot the discrepancies between her, Kaeya, and Jean. When you talk to Kaeya, his flirtatious, forward jokes fall to the ground without any reaction - you might play back, if you’re feeling cheeky, but your face never shifts 

When you talk to Jean and she leans in close to you, you act as if it’s anyone on the planet, a twig will make you react more than she does - but when you are around her? You become a stuttery, fidgety mess, and if she ever makes a more pointed joke - ;) - you practically shut down 

You find her standing in front of row after row of books, her arm extended above her as she reaches to place a returned book back onto the shelf. She’s so elegant, and when she is in her element she’s the most stunning thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You didn’t know that someone could have such an impact on you. 

“Lisa?” You call out to her, respectful of the rules of the library. She turns and already your heart is racing. “Do you have a second?” 

“For you my dear, I have all the time in the world.” She holds the remaining books against her chest, and, even though she’s wearing her hat, you are still transfixed by the face that’s partially hidden. 

“I wanted to tell you this for a long time … is it okay if we talk here or…?” She chuckles, placing the books on one of the tables and walking toward you. The smell of dark roses pressing against your nose as she enters your space. 

“Here is perfect, cutie. What do you want to share with me, hmm?” She’s a bit taller than you so when you find yourself looking at her face it’s almost always drawn to her lips. 

“I’m sure … well, no .. I mean I know that you’re … ah how do I …” 

“Take your time.” She reaches for your hair and the closeness of her wrist to your face breaks you. 

“I like you!” You practically shout, covering your mouth in your hands at the realization of your outburst. Slipping your head further behind your fingers you hide your embarrassment from her. 

Instead of scolding you, or reminding you to be quiet, she laughs and the sound is so lovely it pulls you from your hiding place. 

“I was wondering when you were finally going to tell me your little secret.” 

“You mean, you knew?” 

“Of course I knew, I’m very observant and I can’t keep my eyes off of something so adorable, now can I?” She laughs again, her fingers sliding along your jaw and toward your chin. There she lifts your head and moves in for the kill. Her lips connect with yours and it’s electric, you wonder if she somehow sent a shock of her vision through the contact. As she pulls away, her smile is so grand you close your eyes again. 

She is honored to have your affection, and she will absolutely lord that over everyone - she has the most prized book in all the collection, if you let her explain her admiration for you - hopefully, you can handle her 

Now that she has chosen you, you want to show her experiences that will always remind her that she made the best choice. You’ve taken her to libraries and bookstores that are hidden from most people's eyes. You’ve gone on adventures to explore ancient domains and ruins in search for historic knowledge, you even traveled to Liyue to meet the ever knowledgeable consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You were greeted with warm tea and unending information.  

Now, you’ve brought her to the vast fields which surround Mondstadt, the two of you nestled under the stars each keeping the other warm. She feels so good resting against you, her back pressing firmly into your chest as she relaxes under the night sky. You can push your face into her hair and tighten your grip around her as you relish the notion that she is yours and you are hers. 

She’s shared with you her knowledge of the stars, the things she’s read in books and how impactful they are. Lisa has pointed out all the constellations to you and you’re sure that no matter how many times she shares this information you’ll never tire of hearing her voice. 

“Oh look, a shooting star. It’s customary to make a wish, so I’m told.” She presses further against you and practically squeezes out your words. 

“I don’t know what I could possibly wish for other than you.” She turns and looks into your eyes and you kiss her passionately as if hers are the only lips you will ever taste again.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Into the Light - George Weasley

Title: Into the Light Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!! Unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingers, female receiving oral, breeding kink Summary: All George has ever wanted is right at his fingertips, and he’s willing to go the extra mile to make his dreams a reality. A/N: part 2 to wanting something more!! You could probably read this on it’s own but it might make more sense if you’ve read the first part! This is some smut with fluff because I couldn’t help myself!! Feedback is always welcome! Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess​ @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @pigwidgexn​  Read part 1 here!

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George takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he watches Y/N sleep. Her head is resting on his chest and the moonlight flooding into the room illuminates her face. He can feel her shoulders rising and falling with every slow breath she takes, and every once in a while a quiet noise leaves her lips. George knows he should be sleeping but try as he might he can’t fall asleep. His fingers brush through her hair gently, letting the silky strands slip through his digits. They’ve been together for just over six months, and George still can’t believe this is his life.

He used to lie awake at night too plagued with thoughts of Y/N to fall asleep. She had been the one who got away, and in the cover of darkness George would let himself wonder what their life would’ve been like had he just worked up the courage to tell her how he truly felt. But now he gets to lie awake at night with her in his arms, too entranced by her beauty to fall asleep. When his mind wanders to their future it no longer fills him with dread, but overwhelming glee and anticipation. The things he yearned for in the dark are now finally able to be brought into the light.

At some point George does manage to fall asleep, his hand still entangled in Y/N’s hair and images of small red headed children running in a field playing on a loop in his head.

“He’s so good with her, isn’t he?” Ginny muses as she comes and leans against the counter next to Y/N.

Y/N hums in agreement, and finally tears her eyes away from where George is playing with Victorie so she can look at the younger girl. Sundays are reserved for family dinners at The Burrow, and Y/N has spent the last 10 minutes watching George hold little Victorie’s hand as she zoomed around the living room on the toy broom he bought her for her first birthday. He’d just lifted her up off of the broom so he could toss her in the air and catch her when Ginny interrupted.

“Does it make you feel mushy things?” Ginny teases, nudging her playfully.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush spreads across her cheeks. “How much money did George pay you to come over and say that to me?”

“Five Galleons. I talked him up from three,” Ginny says proudly with a grin. “Though if I knew I’d be found out this fast I would have asked for more. I figured this would be a recurring job.”

“Hey, you should feel accomplished. Ron only got One Galleon out of him last week and Harry did it for free the week before,” Y/N chuckles.

Ginny shakes her head as she snorts in laughter. “Merlin, you better give him a baby soon or he’ll run out of money.”

Y/N bites her lip and turns her attention back to George. Victorie is giggling wildly as George chases her around the living room, his arms outstretched and his fingers moving as if he’s tickling her. “I think he’ll run out of family members to bribe before that ever happens.” Just as George’s hands grab Victorie he looks up, winking at Y/N when their eyes meet.

“Boy is he laying it on thick today.” Ginny pauses so she can watch Y/N for a moment. “Is it working? Or should I tell Hermione to ask for ten Galleons next week?”

Y/N shrugs, watching as George hands Victorie over to Molly and starts to head over to them. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Of course, I want to have kids with George. I’m just worried that it’s too soon.”

George reaches them then, and he leans down to press a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You ladies talking about anything interesting?”

“No not really. Just about how you keep bribing your family members to convince me to get pregnant,” Y/N responds with a glare.

George’s face turns beet red, and Ginny laughs as she starts to walk away. “You’re not getting your money back, by the way!”

“To be fair Harry did it for free,” George reminds her with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. He hasn’t stopped thinking about having a baby with Y/N since the day they got back together, when she had begged George to fill her up with his cum and knock her up, so everyone would know who she belongs to. Not only had it been extremely arousing, but it made him realize how deeply he wants to have kids with her.

“Whatever, no need to get so technical,” she teases with an eye roll. Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him down so she can whisper in his ear. “I would much rather have you tell me how badly you want to knock me up while I’m pinned to a mattress and cumming around your cock.”

A shiver runs down George’s spine and his cock twitches in his trousers. “Fucking hell, you know what that shit does to me. Are you trying to give me a boner in front of my family, Y/N?” When all Y/N does is wink George groans and presses her up against the counter harder. “Just wait until we get home, Y/N. You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you.”

-

The second they apperate back into Y/N’s flat George has her pressed up against the nearest flat wall. He kisses her hard, one of his hands gripping her hip while the other shoves up her shirt. “I can’t fucking believe you, Y/N. Getting me all worked up in front of my family. Bet you wanted me to take you to the bathroom and fuck you right there, didn’t you, baby?”

Y/N tangles her hands in George’s hair and tugs hard, moaning as he starts to suck on her neck. “You just fuck me so good, Georgie. Want you anywhere I can have you.” She moves her head to the side to give George more room to kiss and tugs on his hair again. “Always wanna be full with you, Georgie. Your tongue, your fingers, your cock.” Y/N pauses and uses her grip on George’s hair to pull his head away from her neck so they’re looking each other in the eyes. “Your cum.”

“Fuck, baby. Who am I to deny you these things, hm? Gonna make sure you’re nice and stuffed.” George leans forward and nips at her earlobe. “Especially with my cum.” He kisses Y/N again as he grips her thighs, hoisting her up. George deepens their kiss as Y/N’s arms wrap around his neck, and he licks into her mouth as he starts to carry her to the bedroom. He tosses her on the bed as soon as it’s near enough, and George pulls his shirt off before he crawls up the bed towards her.

Y/N takes her shirt off as George comes towards her and once she’s thrown it away Y/N cups George’s jaw and pulls him down into a slow kiss. She whines against George’s mouth as his calloused hands run up her bare torso, and she arches her back into his touch.

One of George’s hands rests on Y/N’s back, keeping their chests pressed together, while the other undoes the clasp of her bra. He breaks their kiss so he can throw her bra off, and his mouth starts to trail open mouthed kisses from the base of her throat down to the tops of Y/N’s breasts. “I’m never gonna get tired of this, baby.”

“Better not, cause you’re stuck with me forever whether you want it or not.” The end of her sentence falls out into a low moan as George’s tongue starts to flick at one of her nipples. She can already feel arousal pooling in her belly, and she thrusts her hips forward in search of friction on her aching clit. “No teasing Georgie, please,” she whines as he starts to pinch the nipple he doesn’t have in his mouth. “Need you so badly.”

George chuckles as he pulls away from Y/N’s chest, letting his eyes roam over the few marks he’s left over her neck and chest. He spent so long being hesitant to make Y/N his, so now he marks her up every chance he gets to prove to everyone else, and himself, that he really is the one she comes home to every night. He ghosts his fingers down her sides, watching goosebumps explode in their wake. “What do you need, baby? Want me to lick that pretty pussy of yours to get it ready for my cock?”

“God yes Georgie, please,” Y/N begs, dragging her nails down his torso. When her hands reach the waistband of his jeans she starts to work at the button, desperately needing to feel his bare skin against hers.

George hooks his fingers around the band of Y/N’s leggings, and he gives her a wink before pulling them down around her knees. He runs his hands back up her thighs and starts to toy with the band of her panties. “Should I take these off too, baby? What do you think?”

“Unless you plan on eating my cunt through the fabric then I’d say so,” Y/N teases, lifting her hips up.

“You wanna be cheeky huh?” George asks, letting the band go so it snaps against her skin. “I guess you won’t mind me doing this if you need your cunt eaten so badly.”

The way George says cunt sends a shiver down her spine, and just as Y/N opens her mouth to ask him what he’s talking about a sharp gasp leaves instead, as he rips her underwear off of her body. He tosses the shredded fabric aside and Y/n pulls him down into a hot kiss. “I liked that pair you fucking prick.”

“Don’t worry baby I’ll buy you as many pairs of panties as you want once I’m done ruining your pretty pussy, okay?” George gets off the bed and pulls Y/N’s leggings all the way down and off before he starts to get rid of his own bottoms. “Though I much prefer it when you don’t wear any at all.” He gives her a wink as he finally takes off the rest of his clothes. “Easier access.”

George kneels on the end of the bed and takes one of Y/N’s knees in each hand before he pulls her legs apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to her core, and he lets his eyes roam over her dripping heat. “So wet for me already, baby. You sure you need my tongue to get you ready?”

Y/N’s chest heaves with deep breaths as George starts to press open mouthed kisses up her thigh towards her pussy. “Listen to me very carefully, George,” Y/N starts, threading her fingers into his hair. “If you ever wanna cum inside of me again, you’re gonna stop giving me so much shit and just fucking eat me out already.” She tugs on George’s hair so he looks up at her. “Understand?”

Instead of answering George leans in and licks a stripe from Y/N’s entrance up to her clit before sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. Her hips grind down on against his face, and George lets out a moan, letting his lips vibrate against her clit. He’s rewarded with the most beautiful noises he’s every heard come out of Y/N’s mouth, and he slips a finger into her pussy in return. George fucks her with his finger slowly, as he eagerly sucks her clit, letting his teeth lightly brush it every so often.

“So good, Georgie,” Y/N moans, working her hips down against his mouth. She knows George would eat her out for hours if she let him, since he’s done it before, so she tugs on his hair to get his attention. “More, please. Wanna be nice and ready for you cock.”

George hums in laughter, adding another finger alongside the first. He flicks at her clit with his tongue as he starts to fuck her faster, letting his fingers curl inside of Y/N. “Come on my fingers, baby. And then I’ll give you what you want.” He goes back to sucking her clit harshly, and starts to curl his fingers with every thrust, letting the tip of his middle finger brush her g-spot.

“So good, Georgie. You always eat my pussy so well.” Y/N clenches around George’s fingers, her orgasm steadily approaching. She brings the hand that’s not in George’s hair up to her breast and starts to roll her nipple between her fingertips. Her hips are working feverishly against George’s face and her toes curl as her climax nears. “Gonna cum, George, fuck.”

George curls his fingers against her g-spot as he nibbles on her clit, and Y/N’s back arches off of the bed as she cums, George’s name leaving her lips and her hand tugging on his hair. Her thighs shake as she comes down from her high, and George slowly pulls his mouth away and lets his fingers fuck into her slowly to help her come down from her high.

“Feel good?” George teases as he crawls back up her body. He presses a few brief kisses to her mouth, his hips moving to allow his cock to drag against the soft skin of her thigh. George feels like he’s been hard for hours, and he desperate needs to feel Y/N wrapped around him.

“I know what would feel better,” Y/N responds. She hooks one of her legs around George’s hip and pulls him in closer as she leans up on one of her elbows, so her lips just barely brush his earlobe. “Got my pussy nice and ready for you Georgie, can I have your cock now? Pretty please?”

George lets out a groan and pushes Y/N back against the bed as he grips the base of his cock. He lines himself up with her entrance and just barely presses his head against her heat. “You sure you’re ready for me, baby? I could always give you my mouth again.”

Y/N bites her lip and lets her hands run all over her torso, occasionally stopping to pinch or flick at one of her nipples. George’s eyes get even darker, and she lets out a quiet moan. “And I could always just get myself off, Georgie.” Y/N starts to trail one of her hands down towards her core and a small gasp leaves her lips when George grips her wrist tightly.

“Oh please,” George chides as he hikes her leg higher onto his hip. “Nothing makes you feel as good as my cock.” To prove his point George slams his hips forward, burying himself completely in Y/N’s wet heat. She tips her head back and a long whine leaves her lips, prompting George to slowly roll his hips. “But if you think your fingers can do better than me.”

When George starts to pull out Y/N wraps both of her legs around his hips and pulls him back in. “Don’t even fucking think about it George.” She pushes her hips down against him and they both let out breathy moans. “How are you gonna knock me up if you don’t fuck me good?”

“Fuck,” George groans, before he starts to move his hips, setting a fast pace. He slams back into her with every movement of his hips, watching her tits bounce with every thrust as her mouth drops open in a low moan. “So pretty, baby. Always look so good when I ruin you with my cock.” George picks Y/N’s lower half up higher so he can fuck into her deeper and they both whine at the new angle. “Fuck, baby. How does my cock feel, hm? Tell me how good I fuck you.”

Y/N’s fingers dig into George’s shoulders and she’s unable to control the noises coming out of her mouth. He’s hitting her g-spot with every thrust, and with the pleasure from her first climax still thrumming through her body, Y/N imagines she won’t last much longer. “So full, Georgie. Love having your big cock stretching me out. Love being full of you.”

“That’s right,” George growls, bring one of his hands to her core. He starts to rub harsh circles on her clit, and he moans when Y/N’s walls clench around him even tighter. “That’s not all you want though, is it, baby?”

“Want your cum Georgie, please,” Y/N begs. “Need you to fill me up. Wanna feel you deep inside me please.” Her words spur George on, and he starts to slam his hips harder, bringing her to her climax. Y/N shouts George’s name as she comes, her nails digging into her shoulder as he back arches off the bed. Pleasure is coursing through her body and ger walls are fluttering and twitching around George’s cock.

George leans down to kiss her, mashing their mouths together messily. He can feel his orgasm approaching and he grips Y/N tighter. “Fuck, Y/N. Gonna come soon, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so tight for me.” George’s hips start to lose their rhythm and he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “Where should I finish, hm? On your tummy? Maybe on those pretty tits of yours?”

“You know where I want it George, please.” Tears have started to leak out of the corners of her eyes from the overstimulation, and shockwaves of pleasure continue to move through Y/N’s body.

“You want me to cum inside you, hm? Want me to shoot my load up into you, get you nice and full of my cum. Knock you up so you can be nice and full with my baby?” When all Y/N does is not George slams into her harder. “Use your fucking words. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please finish inside me,” Y/N pants. “Wanna be so full of your cum, please.” Y/N swallows thickly, looking up into George’s eyes. “Knock me up Georgie. Want everyone to know what a whore I am for your cum. Put a baby inside of me, please.”

George closes his eyes as his orgasm rocks through his body, his hips stilling as his cock starts to twitch, forcing his release as deep into Y/N as it can go. “Gonna get you nice and knocked up,” George pants as he starts to come back down. Once he’s fully emptied himself into Y/N he slowly pulls out, before slipping two fingers back into her wet heat. “Can’t let any leak out,” he teases.

Y/N whines as George lays down next to her, clenching around the two fingers inside of her. She’s terribly sore and sensitive from her orgasms, but she loves the feeling of George’s fingers inside of her. “Kiss me Georgie, please.”

George chuckles and leans down, kissing Y/N slowly. He curls his fingers before slowly pulling them out as their mouths move together and his cock twitches when Y/N moans into his mouth. “Full enough, Y/N?” he teases as he breaks their kiss.

“Depends, we’ll have to wait a few weeks to see if I’m full of your baby or not,” Y/N responds with a wink.

“Ugh,” George groans, dropping his head to rest their foreheads together. His free hand comes to rest on her stomach, pressing down slightly. “You can’t tease me like that, Y/N.” He presses their lips together softly for a moment.

Y/N bumps their foreheads together softly, prompting George to look her in the eyes. “Who said I was teasing?”

George’s fingertips dig into her stomach and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I stopped taking my birth control. A few weeks ago, after you somehow convinced Harry to talk to me about having a baby,” Y/N reveals, a blush taking over her cheeks. “I don’t care, that we’re not married or that we haven’t been together for that long. I’ve been wanting something more with you since I was seventeen and I don’t see the point in denying myself that any longer.”

“I love you, Y/N. So much. And I can’t wait to start on this new journey with you.” George pauses so he can kiss her sweetly. “This is all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

-

George takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he watches his daughter sleep. She’s resting on his chest, with Y/N pressed close to his side. He watches her little chest rise and fall as she sleeps, and the first rays of sunshine illuminate her face. George knows he should be asleep, catching as much rest as he can while the baby does, but no matter how tired he is he can’t seem to fall asleep. He rubs his daughter’s back slowly, watching her eyelids twitch as she dreams. She’s already six days old, and George still can’t believe this is his life.

He used to walk around with a dark cloud over his head, too plagued with thoughts of never having this life to allow himself to bask in rays of sunshine and happiness. But as the sun starts to rise and his daughter starts to fuss on his chest, he finally allows himself to soak it all in.

A new chapter of his life has been thrust from the dark corners of his mind and into the light, and he can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

[t-lostinworlds]

Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.

It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.

You two get it done right away in the right way.

You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.

But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.

"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.

On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.

"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—

"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."

Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.

And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.

With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.

"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.

"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.

Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.

He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.

"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.

With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.

Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.

"Come here and give me one last kiss."

"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"

You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.

"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.

"Places you two!" Jessica called out.

Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.

You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.

The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.

"Ready and action!"

You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.

"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.

"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.

"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.

Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.

Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.

"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.

Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.

Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.

"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.

The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.

Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.

"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.

"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."

Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.

"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.

Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.

"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."

"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.

"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.

Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.

"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.

"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.

"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.

But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.

"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.

"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.

It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.

But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.

At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."

All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.

Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.

You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.

You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."

Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.

Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.

"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.

Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.

You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.

Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.

"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."

"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.

You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.

"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."

"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.

"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"

Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.

"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"

"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.

"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.

"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."

"Aw, thanks bro—"

"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."

"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.

"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."

You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.

"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"

With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.

"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."

You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.

"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."

***

It was finally time to get back to the hotel.

You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.

The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.

"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.

A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.

Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.

"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.

"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him

"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.

"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.

Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:

"Just let me take care of you."

A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.

Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.

In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.

He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.

Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.

"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.

"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.

"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.

"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.

With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.

The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,

"Tom, what if—"

"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.

"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.

With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."

Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.

"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.

Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."

You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.

With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—

"Not going anywhere."

-:-:-:-:-

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[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH19

People weren’t happy with how things went down with Alya in the original MDCSP, so I hope this version suffices. ;)

Previous     First      Next     AO3

---------------------------

Chapter 19: Miss Missing You

Alya chewed her nails, pivoting back and forth in her desk chair as Lila settled on her bed. Her thoughts raced too fast for Alya to make sense of them, and Lila’s grave expression did little to calm her nerves. When Alya told her about Adrien and Chloe, she insisted on meeting up. Maybe this way they could both talk to Ladybug, but something was off about Lila. Her jaw was a little too tense, and those green eyes swirled with an intensity Alya couldn’t place. What was going on?

“Is Ladybug on her way too? We have to let her know what they’re plotting,” Alya said, but when Lila remained quiet, she asked, “What?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Lila said. “This is going to be hard for me, but I trust you over anyone else.”

“What’s wrong?” Alya asked, and Lila shifted her weight, tucking a strand of long hair behind her ear.

“Well, Ladybug and I…we kind of had a falling out.” Lila lowered her gaze to her lap.

“What?”

“Remember when Chloe tried to impersonate her to make everyone hate me? Well, I told Ladybug about it, and that she shouldn’t trust Chloe anymore, but then last night she gave her back her Miraculous without consulting me.” Lila recounted. “I tried to talk to her and understand why she’d trust Chloe again after what she did to me, but Ladybug freaked out on me and told me not to question her judgment.”

“For real?” Alya gasped. “That’s not like her.”

“I know,” Lila said, “and after what you told me on the phone, I definitely think something weird is going on with her.”

“You don’t think Chloe is manipulating her, do you?” she asked.

Lila pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not Chloe. I think that…well, I’m sorry, but I think Marinette is behind all of this.”

“Marinette?” Alya shot a glance at the Ladyblog pulled up on her computer, a sinking feeling in her gut.

She hadn’t posted about Queen Bee’s return—couldn’t bring herself to. Something was definitely off with Ladybug, but was it really all Marinette’s doing? Marinette wasn’t one for petty revenge, but maybe she had changed since she left. Or maybe Alya just never knew her like she thought she did.

Alya thought back to the night she was akumatized, the distant look in her bff’s eyes. She’d seemed tired, like all the fight had been drained from her. She didn’t even argue when Alya suggested they stop being friends, a fact that had haunted Alya ever since. Why had Marinette abandoned her so easily? Surely if her stories were to be believed, she would have fought harder, right? Wasn’t the truth worth fighting for?

“You said so yourself, Chloe and Adrien said they were going to get Ladybug to talk about me for Marinette. I think she’s manipulating all of them to get back at me because she can’t let go even after she’s been gone for a month now,” Lila said.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Marinette do that? When I last spoke to her, she didn’t want anything to do with you or anyone here really,” Alya said. “Well, except Adrien, I guess, but she’s always been head-over-heels for him.”

“She’s obsessed! She’s never liked me, and I never understood why. The only thing I’ve been able to figure out is that she didn’t like me talking to Adrien, so now she’s lured him over to her side and fed him all kinds of lies about me. I don’t even like him that way, but she’s just so insecure and jealous that she thought Adrien would fall in love with me because of all of my accomplishments.” Lila hugged a pillow to her chest. “Now she’s taken one of my best friends away from me too!”

Alya crossed the room to sit beside her on the bed, draping an arm over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, girl. Maybe we can talk to Ladybug and convince her not to do that interview tomorrow.”

“I don’t think we can,” Lila whimpered. “She hasn’t responded to any of my calls ever since the Queen Bee thing. She’s on their side now.”

“Are you sure? I’ve met Ladybug a bunch of times, and she would totally pick up on it if something fishy was going on,” Alya said.

“Watch the interview tomorrow. If Ladybug says anything about me that sounds like them, then you’ll know I’m telling the truth,” Lila said.

Alya pursed her lips but didn’t argue. Lila’s story was just as probable as theirs at this point, and she was right. All they could do was watch the interview and see what happened. For their sake, she hoped that Chloe and Adrien’s plan failed, and Ladybug never mentioned Lila. But a heavy pit was already forming in Alya’s stomach, filling her with dread for the coming day. How had she gotten herself into the middle of all this drama? And how long would it be before the truth was finally revealed?

♪♫♪ Don’t Blame Me ♪♫♪

“How long before we give up?” Adrien asked the next afternoon. He leaned against the railing while Chloe manned the spotlight beside him.

“It’s hasn’t even been 20 minutes, Adrikins. I’ve sat up here for entire akuma battles before.” Chloe chided.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just nervous,” he said, letting a breath pass his lips.

Chloe spun on him with a scowl, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Oh no, you are not backing out this time. We’re doing this, so just think about Dupain-Cheng’s awful split-ends or whatever it is you need to keep you motivated.”

Adrien pursed his lips as Chloe turned back to her bee signal. She was right. No backing out this time. Lila was going down once and for all, then Marinette could finally be free. Marinette…

His heart fluttered, warming his cheeks. It would be obvious after today that he was helping Chloe take down Lila. Being intentionally cruel wasn’t in his nature, but he’d do anything to protect the people he loved. To protect the girl he loved.

It had taken him longer than it should have to realize his feelings for her, but now they burned so brightly, he had to wonder how he’d ever missed them. Marinette was a wonderful girl and a dear friend. If ever there was a person to fight for, it was her. She’d understand why he did all of this. It was all for her—always for her.

His heart ached with longing. Now that Marinette went to a different school, he couldn’t see her as often as he used to. Sometimes they went several days without seeing each other, and his heart grew heavier the longer they stayed apart. At least when he loved Ladybug, he got to see her every day when they fought akumas or patrolled the city, but even that wasn’t enough.

Adrien had spent too much of his life alone. Couldn’t the universe give him just one person to cure his loneliness? Missing Marinette was torture. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking about him?

He pulled out his phone and typed a simple message: what’s up?

Ugh, no, that was lame.

Hey cutie ;) what are you up to?

No, too forward.

I was just thinking about you

Too clingy. He backspaced over his message again, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. Why was flirting so much harder as Adrien? If he were Chat Noir, he’d just drop a few cat puns and tell her how pretty she was, but that might be a little abrasive coming from Adrien. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. After all, she almost kissed him in the garden too. That meant she loved him back, right?

Pressing his lips into a determined line, he typed another message and hit send without overthinking it.

Hey, how’s your day been?

A minute passed before his phone buzzed with a reply: busy. I’m finalizing my designs for Clara. I present to her next week and im super nervous!

Aww don’t be clara is gonna love them.

I hope so! she replied. So what are you up to today?

Uhh im working on a school project with chloe. He lied. We have to interview someone we look up to, and shes demanding we interview ladybug so weve been standing on the roof with her bee signal for like 30 minutes.

Wow ladybug huh? I hope she shows up for you guys. Anyway these designs aren’t going to finish themselves so ill talk to you later! Bye!

good luck!

He smiled down at her messages. Marinette was always running a million miles an hour working on some project or another. She was so driven and passionate—something Adrien deeply admired. Clara would love her designs, and he and Chloe would definitely take down Lila this time. Then he and Marinette could be together without having to worry about anything. They could move to the suburbs and buy a cozy home for their three kids, a dog, and a hamster named-

“Looking for me?” Adrien and Chloe spun around, and Ladybug cocked a hip. “What’s the emergency?”

“Uhh,” Adrien stammered.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “We have to interview one of our personal heroes for a school project, so we picked you. Isn’t that right, Adrikins?” She nudged him with her elbow.

Think about Marinette. Everything was for Marinette. The tears she’d spilled, the pain she’d suffered… Adrien was going to take it all away. Lila would never hurt her again.

“Yeah. Do you have time?” Adrien asked.

Ladybug glanced between them and smiled. “I have a few minutes. Make it quick.”

“Excellent.” Chloe clapped her hands together and paced toward the stairs. “Everything is set up in my suite.”

Adrien took a deep breath as Ladybug fell into step beside him. A month ago being so close to her would have sent his heart into overdrive, but now his heart was pounding for a different reason. Ladybug hated liars. Deceiving her was a direct betrayal of her trust. Even if his feelings for her had changed, he was still her partner, and manipulating her like this didn’t feel right.

“Wait.” He stopped abruptly and caught Ladybug’s wrist. Chloe was already through the doorway to the stairs, and he sent her a silent apology just in case his next words ruined everything. “Chloe and I lied to you. This isn’t for a school project.”

“Then what’s all this about?” Ladybug asked.

“It’s…” Adrien took a deep breath and continued. “You remember Lila, right? She lied about you saving her and how you two are bffs?”

Ladybug sobered. “Yeah?”

“Well, her lies have gotten out of hand, and she hurt someone important to me. Chloe and I planned to trick you into admitting you two were never friends, so that everyone can finally see the truth about her. The interview was just a coverup,” Adrien explained, hanging his head low. “We shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry.”

Ladybug eyed him with pursed lips, those blue eyes working out a solution like he were one of her lucky charms. She seemed to come to a conclusion, her face softening. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“If you don’t want to help us, I won’t blame you. I know it’s wrong to seek revenge,” Adrien said.

A knowing smile spread across her lips. “That friend of yours must be really special to you.”

“What?”

“For you to resort to something like this, you must care about your friend—the one Lila hurt—a lot,” she said, then with a sigh added, “I don’t normally condone revenge, but I know how dangerous Lila can be. I’ve almost lost my Miraculous because of her several times, so I think you’re right. It’s time everyone learned the truth about Lila Rossi.”

Adrien blinked. “So, wait… You’re going to help us?”

“I made a promise to keep Paris safe, and if we continue to let Lila go unchecked, she’s only going to put more people in danger,” Ladybug said. “It’s time someone put her in her place.”

“Hurry up, you two! I have a hair appointment this evening, and I do not want to be late!” Chloe shouted from the doorway.

Adrien held Ladybug’s gaze, and she gave him an encouraging nod. “Uh, coming!” he called.

He gestured Ladybug ahead, following close behind her, cheeks hot. This was really happening. Ladybug was going to help them stop Lila. After today, everyone would know the truth, and Marinette would be free. They all would.

“Ladybug, you sit on this side.” Chloe directed. “Adrikins and I will sit on this side.”

“Okay,” Ladybug said, sliding onto the couch smoothly.

Adrien took the seat across from her, wiping his palms on his jeans while Chloe barked orders at her butler. Satisfied with the camera angle, Chloe sat beside him and fixed her hair in her compact before calling “action.”

Chloe’s butler—Adrien couldn’t remember his name—started the Instagram live, broadcasting to all of Chloe’s followers. There was no turning back now.

“Hello out there, my little worker bees. Your queen is here with some very special guests today,” Chloe cooed in her token attention-seeking voice. “My favorite people in the whole world besides myself, obviously—Adrien and Ladybug!”

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Adrien waved.

“As you all know, I helped Ladybug defeat another akuma last weekend. Being Queen Bee again was such an honor, and I admit, even I have people I look up to,” she said, flipping her ponytail. “So, Ladybug, thank you for allowing me to become a superheroine. Queen Bee is truly an inspiration.”

“Uh, sure.” Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Chat Noir and I always appreciate help from our allies.”

“You heard it here, everyone! Ladybug values my help,” Chloe said, and Adrien cleared his throat. “Now, onto the topic of today’s livestream. People everywhere are inspired by superheroes like me and Ladybug, so today we are going to give you all the inside scoop on what it takes to be a hero.”

“That’s right, Chloe,” Adrien piped up. “I don’t have superpowers, so I have to ask: what’s it like being a superhero, Ladybug?”

“Well, everyone thinks that having superpowers is all fun and games, but in reality, Chat Noir and I have a huge responsibility. Defending Paris every day requires sacrifice, and we know the whole city is counting on us to succeed. It’s a lot of pressure,” Ladybug said.

“Of course, I know what it’s like being a superhero myself, but can you tell everyone how overwhelming it is to save the day all the time?” Chloe prompted.

“Yeah, totally. It’s a lot of work fighting akumas. Sometimes Hawkmoth makes supervillains at the worst times, and I have to drop everything to go save the city. Leading a double life is challenging, and sometimes it even impacts my day-to-day life. School, friends, family—I’m always rushing all over the place juggling two lives.” Ladybug admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “But I’m happy to do it. Paris is my home, and it’s an honor to defend it. Besides, when the going gets tough, I know I can count on my partners to have my back.”

“So, when you pick a new partner, what qualities do you look for in a person that makes them a good fit to work with you?” Adrien asked.

“I look for people with courage and good intentions. Often times, the people I pick are ones who have stepped up to do the right thing, even if it’s hard. They’re people I know I can trust,” Ladybug said.

“Would you say you consider your allies close personal friends?” Chloe beamed, flashing the camera a wink.

“Well, I don’t know all of them in real life like you, Chloe,” Ladybug said with a cautious glance at the camera. “Sometimes they are people I meet during a battle that impress me, and who prove themselves to be trustworthy.”

“And how do you know if you can trust someone?” Adrien asked. “Do you consult anyone for recommendations, or do you operate on the fly?”

“Most of the time when I give someone a Miraculous, it’s because they’ve demonstrated their character to me. Every person I give a Miraculous to has earned their right to wear it either by helping me or showing that they’re willing to sacrifice to save others. The decision about who gets to wear one and who doesn’t is deeply personal to me,” Ladybug answered. “Not even Chat Noir knows the identities of our allies. It’s something I don’t share with anyone.” She shot Chloe a stern look. “Under normal circumstances.”

“So, you pick the allies by yourself?” Adrien followed up.

“Yes. In the middle of a battle, I wouldn’t even have time to consult anyone if I wanted to.”

“In other words, if anyone were to—I don’t know—claim that they help you choose your partners, they’d be a liar, right?” Chloe added.

“Yeah, I don’t talk to anyone about who I pick.” Ladybug shook her head.

“Ya know, Ladybug, there are some people out there that claim to be your best friend. How do you feel about people lying about knowing you to make themselves more popular?” Chloe asked.

Ladybug locked eyes with Adrien, the weight of their mission heavy on both of their shoulders. She clasped her hands together in her lap and said, “As I’m sure both of you are aware, there will always be people who use your name for their own selfish gain, but I want everyone out there to know that I take my job very seriously. Protecting all of you is my number one priority.”

She took a deep breath. “Being a superhero is dangerous, and that’s why, with the exception of Chat Noir and my trusted allies, Ladybug doesn’t have friends.”

“So, anyone who says they’re your friend is a liar, right?” Adrien asked.

“Yes, and they’re putting themselves in danger. Hawkmoth will stop at nothing to get my Miraculous, so please, if you’re out there… Do the right thing, and tell the truth.” Ladybug pleaded to the camera.

“It’s utterly pathetic when people lie about who they know just to get attention,” Chloe sighed in disgust. “You heard it here, my little bees! Chat Noir and I are Ladybug’s only friends.”

“Well, I’d consider you more of an ally than a frie-”

“And as one of Ladybug’s bffs, I want all of the losers out there to buzz off! Ladybug has much more important things to do, like spending time with me,” Chloe said.

“Right.” Ladybug’s yoyo beeped, and she glanced down at it briefly. “I should really get going. A hero’s work is never done.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, Ladybug,” Adrien said, shaking her hand.

“No problem. It’s important to me that everyone in Paris knows I’m doing everything I can to keep you all safe, and the people I choose to fight beside me are people I truly trust. We’ll all keep fighting hard to protect this city,” she said, waving two fingers. “Bug out!”

“Well, that does it for this livestream, little bees. Your queen will see you all again next time. Bye-bye!”

♪♫♪ Impossible Year ♪♫♪

“So, anyone who says they’re your friend is a liar, right?”

“Yes.”

Lila was right. They really had gotten to Ladybug. Alya had done her best not to think about Marinette since their falling out. Remembering her old bff was too painful and confusing. Everything Alya thought she knew changed the moment Lila came to their school. The person she trusted became a stranger overnight. Alya wanted to believe that Marinette would never align herself with Chloe or orchestrate a hostile takedown just because she was jealous, but Alya had seen her do crazier things to win Adrien.

“I’m doing everything I can to keep you all safe, and the people I choose to fight beside me are people I truly trust.”

How was Chloe more trustworthy than Alya? All that was necessary for the triumph of evil was that good people do nothing. She’d known from day one that Chloe was evil, so why couldn’t Ladybug see it?  Why would Ladybug align herself with the queen of all evil over someone who dedicated herself to doing the right thing? Was this really all Marinette’s doing? And why?

Was Marinette really that desperate to win Adrien? Did she hate Lila so much that she’d willingly team up with her worst enemy to get back at her for stealing attention away from the boy she liked? From where Alya was sitting, it looked like Marinette already had him, and Lila had always been clear that she wasn’t interested in him that way. Why go through all that trouble to get Ladybug to denounce Lila just to win a boy? But if Marinette was involved with Ladybug…

It all made sense now. The reason Ladybug had picked someone else to wield her Miraculous. How long had they been plotting all of this? And how could Ladybug trust Marinette’s word over Alya’s without even trying to hear her side of the story? Or Lila’s? How could Ladybug not see that she was being manipulated? She was a hero, and one of the best Alya had ever seen. So why was she fighting for the wrong side?

Her head spun, and she gripped the side of her desk for support. Someone needed to tell Ladybug the truth.

“You want to save Ladybug from those you deem evil. Let me help you, Ladyblogger.”

Alya jumped at the sinister voice in her head. She smoothed her thumb over her phone screen, now glowing with dark energy. A cold feeling washed over her, all of her pain and confusion bubbling to the surface. In the center of it all stood her determined resolve, driving her to give in.

Someone needed to tell Ladybug the truth. Someone like her.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization

Title: Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: G Words: 6078

A/N: This takes place chronologically between chapters 28 and 29. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You went on a date.

You realized that you were in love with Hotch, and your first instinct was to go on a date with someone else.

In all respects, it was a relatively good decision. Hotch was your boss and despite the close relationship you enjoyed with him, any romantic relationship between the two of you was impossible.

Miles Burton was a Senior White House Advisor whom you'd run into during your social obligations as a member of the Women in Service organization who had persistently flirted with you at the Griffiths fundraiser and had made it a point to say hello at the following two events you'd both been in attendance for.

Once you'd come to the fairly life-ruining conclusion that you were head-over-heels in love with Aaron Hotchner, you made sure to actually flirt back the next time you saw Miles Burton. That was how you found yourself on the date that had you questioning ever having harbored an attraction to men - dinner and drinks accompanied by a rendition of the 101 Life Accomplishments of Miles T. Burton.

This was hell.

After dinner, Miles had insisted on driving you home, and you cursed yourself for having taken a cab to dinner in order to avoid the lack of parking options in downtown. For some reason, he'd gotten it into his head that paying for dinner entitled him to having your mouth wrapped around his cock while he was parked in the street overlooking your house. You'd extracted yourself from the situation with as much contained outrage and dignity as you could muster, and having closed the front door, you find yourself leaning against it with only one thought in your head – Aaron Hotchner would never.

*------------*

"Rough night?"

You look over at Derek as he peers at you over his coffee mug, his eyes filling with amusement, no doubt having already taken in your slightly puffy face and the extra large cup of coffee you're carrying. After Miles had driven away - you'd watched from your window just in case - you'd needed a drink, which had turned into two drinks and ultimately falling asleep on the couch. You'd woken up late and having rushed out of the house - sans makeup - had arrived at work just in time. Hotch may no longer be upset at you being five minutes late, but he's still entirely stringent about punctuality and you hate to disappoint him.

"Bad date," you respond, dropping into your chair and whipping out the little compact and concealer from your bag so that no one else sees you looking like this.

Emily perks up at that, walking over to perch herself on your desk, the beginnings of a grin already forming on her face. "You finally went out with Burton?"

You look up at her, slightly shaking your head in disapproval at her glee. She'd warned you against him. Something about bad vibes, but since it hadn't been anything concrete, you'd impulsively gone against it. You should've known better. Emily's gut, when it came to men, was impeccably accurate.

Pursing your lips, you make sure your face no longer bears the telltale marks of having fallen asleep, drunk on your couch, before you look up at her and Derek once more. "He tried to Lewinsky me," you tell them ruefully, a scowl making its way onto your face as Emily unsuccessfully stifles a snort.

Derek's eyebrows rise in question. "It's fine, I'm okay," you assure him, before looking back at Emily. "You were right. He's an arrogant creep."

"I'm sorry," she tells you, scooching up further onto your desk and swiping up your coffee before you could stop her. "Everyday I continue to be attracted to men feels like a waste."

"Tell me about it," you mutter, careful to not allow your eyes to slip up to the landing where his office was.

"Oh come on, we're not all bad."

Both you and Emily turn to Derek with looks that say exactly what you think about that particular statement.

"Geez, tough crowd." He raises his hands in surrender, turning away from you both and back to his screen, no doubt to message Pen and fill her in on everything.

"I'd make a good lesbian."

You look up at Emily, who has a contemplative look on her face as she continues to take sips of your coffee. Your coffee. Your hot, perfectly sweetened and foamy latte.

"You would," you agree with her, reaching out for the cup, which she thankfully hands to you, before her eyes flit up to the landing. You turn and follow her gaze, eyes coming to rest on Hotch.

He's wearing the navy blue suit with the nice red patterned Gucci tie that you'd helped Jack pick out for him on Father's day. He has a folder on his hand and his brow is already furrowed, straining under the weight of the world far too early in the morning. His eyes move from the papers in his hand to all of you looking up at him, muscles tensed and breath held tight.

"Briefing. Now."

It takes only two words from him to get you all scrambling from your desks and rushing upstairs, his tone telling you everything you needed to know.

It was going to be a bad one.

*------------*

Five girls missing, three bodies found. Based on the pattern, it's already a foregone conclusion that the fourth girl was also dead. Not that you'd tell her parents that. Not until there was a body. All of your efforts were concentrated on girl number five.

You've felt the eyes of the entire team on you ever since the third body was found and Caroline Geller, lucky contestant number five, had been taken from the parking lot of a grocery store after work. All five girls were around the same age, pretty, low-risk, and had no connection to the unsub that you'd been able to work out.

You look up from the notes you'd taken while talking to Caroline's friends from work to see Hotch looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he's quick to look away, turning back towards the screen in front of him. You know why they're all concerned. While all of the girls are roughly the same age as you, Caroline Geller looked like you. Same hair color, similar features, comparable build – at first glance one might mistake her for you.

She taught ballet at the local dance school, volunteered at the soup kitchen every week, and had recently gotten engaged to her fiancé, a beautiful and heartbroken man who had planted himself on a bench outside the precinct and refused to leave his post.

You'd been at their home, combed through their life, seen the wedding invitation pinned to the refrigerator, held her pointe shoes in your hands as you looked around at everything left behind.

Your eyes stay fixed on Hotch's back as he continues to assess the screen of suspects and look at the evidence board, as though willing something to fall into place. He seems more affected by this case, this girl's disappearance, more than any other in recent memory. There's this childish, naïve part of you that's hoping against hope that it has something to do with you. Because she reminds him of you. More likely, it's the fact that he's had to walk past her fiancé, every time he's left the precinct. Hotch had been the one to speak with him, and the poor man had broken down into tears right  in front of his eyes. It was enough to affect even the coldest of hearts and Hotch hardly fit the bill of a cold-hearted man, despite any misconceptions made based on his reticent exterior. Aaron Hotchner was one of the kindest and most sincere people you've ever met – devout father, responsible team leader. His very aura commanded the sort of respect reserved for those men, the kind of men everyone looked up to and knew they'd never be.

Somehow, he's permeated your entire life without you realizing it. Ever since the two of you had made up, it felt like things were back to normal, even more than before he'd left. You had dinner with them as often as possible. Both him and Jack slept over at least once a week when there wasn't a case going on. The sight of Hotch in pajamas, disappearing into your guest bedroom was becoming a familiar one. It's beyond normal coworkers, beyond a normal friendship – you can finally admit that to yourself.

How it had happened though - how the two of you had allowed it to happen - still remained a mystery. It had been innocuous enough in the beginning. Accompanying Jack and Hotch to the Zoo or the Smithsonian. Relieving Jess when Hotch couldn't get away and she had to go home to her own family. Keeping him company late nights at the office because you hated seeing him be the last one there.

You can feel a lump rise in your throat as your eyes stay on his frame, watching as he points out an additional factor for Reid to consider in his geographic profile. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve someone like him, even if he were to give you the time of day.

You've already thought through how it would go if you were to tell him. Blocked out what you'd say and how'd respond. The initial shock of your revelation would catch him off-guard. He'd falter ever so slightly. It would be quickly followed by a professional and kindhearted rejection. You were his subordinate. You were too young. He's sorry if he did or said anything that might have led you on. Of course, he understands if you need some time and space to gather yourself and make your peace with the matter. Of course you'd still see Jack, he'd never deny you his son again. And he wouldn't. He'd stay true to his word.

But you'd never be the same again. You'd never be able to look at him again and feel anything but the sting of that rejection. The confirmation – you weren't good enough. It didn't matter that you'd changed everything. It didn't matter that you'd tried and tried to atone. You weren't good enough. You never would be. Not for that. Not for him. Slowly, you'd start to withdraw. You wouldn't be able to help yourself. It would hurt too much, just being near him. Without meaning to, you'd lose him.

*------------*

Samuel Nolen, age 45, a landscaper who'd worked jobs around each of the women's workplaces in the weeks leading up to their disappearance. He'd been the only common link Garcia had been able to pinpoint and he fit the profile exactly. Older white male, non-threatening demeanor, rotating job that gave him the freedom to watch his victims uninterrupted. Grew up with a single father, mother left the family when he was nine years old and was never heard from again. Garcia had found out that she'd moved out to Vegas and had a relatively successful career as a cabaret dancer.

He was sat in the interrogation room with both Rossi and Reid talking to him while the rest of you watched from the other side. There was something almost gentle about how he held himself, how he shied away from Rossi and leaned more towards Reid, whom he perceived as non-threatening. The guess was that he'd lured in his victims under the guise of needing help, and based on the man in front of you, you could see how some women might fall for it. He seemed nice. If there's one thing this job has taught you, it's that men don't ask for help from women. If a man is asking you for help, run.

Neither Rossi nor Reid were having much success with him. You could all see the twitch in his fingers as they curled around something imaginary. All of the victims had died via strangulation. The hope was that you'd captured him before he'd managed to get back to Caroline and subject her to the same fate.

Derek and JJ had been the ones to pick him up, and as Derek had marched him past you, through the precinct, Samuel's eyes had caught yours and they'd lingered, sending a chill racing down your spine. He might be able to fake it long enough to lure those women to their deaths, but there was no hiding that look in his eyes. The look of a predator.

"I want to talk to the female agent. I'll only talk to her."

It was the first thing he'd said since the interrogation had started half an hour ago. You feel yourself tense, the eyes of the rest of the team on you immediately. None of you needed to ask which agent. From the corner of your eye you look at Hotch beside you. He isn't looking at you, still glaring at the unsub through the mirror, but you can see that his jaw is set tightly.

When Rossi and Reid exit, Rossi immediately looks to you before his eyes go over you and to Hotch. You don't have to turn to see that they're engaged in a wordless debate about the right next move.

You can't help but think of that lovely empty house. The despondent man still seated outside. Those satin shoes that had just been broken in. They deserved to be worn.

"Hotch," you turn to face him, making up your mind as you do. You're going in. You're going to get answers.

He's already looking at you and you can tell that he doesn't like it at all. His forehead is already wrinkled and you can literally see the dissent on his mouth. He's incredibly protective of the team and everyone knows that you're being asked for because you look most like the victim. His ritual has been interrupted and he's going to be eager to resume it. With you as proxy.

"I have to go in," you tell him, before he can say anything to dissuade you from the notion. There was no point in waiting. Every second you waited, your chances of finding Caroline worsened.

His eyes bore into you, silently speaking his every concern into existence. You didn't have to do this, there was always another way. You look so much like her. You look too much like her. If you go in there, he won't see you. He'll see her.

It is a tense minute as you and Hotch look at one another. He's giving you the chance to back out despite knowing that's the last thing you'd do. Finally, a nod comes from him.

"We still have the personal effects that were found in her car?" You're already walking out to the main office as you direct your question to Emily, who is quick to follow you. She guides you to a box of items, among which there's some pieces of clothing. Grabbing the box, you go back to the office overlooking the interrogation room. If he was going to think you were Caroline, then you'd play into it.

Quickly, you shuffle through the clothing in front of you, selecting a well-worn seeming crewneck with her alma mater on it. Slipping your blazer off, you pull the sweater over your head, adjusting so it hung off of you in a manner reminiscent of how Caroline wore it in the photos you'd seen. You shuck off your heels as well, finding a pair of low flats in the box, which you don instead.

Behind you, you can feel the eyes of the team on you as you slowly transform yourself. For the final touch, you take your hair out of your usually prim updo and let it down. Your hair was a little bit longer than Caroline's, but, as you part it down the left side just as she did, you figure it was close enough.

Turning finally to face the unsub, you take your first breath as Caroline Geller.

*------------*

Aaron watches, fists bunched tightly together, thumb itching to move, to do something that would accomplish something larger simply watching and waiting.

They all knew what you were doing - playing up the similarities between yourself and the victim to draw out whatever it was about these women that played to the unsub's compulsions. Prey on his weaknesses just as he'd preyed on them. It was a good tactic – one he could feel forming in your head as you'd searched through the evidence box in search of props for your scene.

You're good in the field, there's no doubt about it. But here, in the interrogation room, that's where you really shine. It was one of the hardest taught skills and it was the one that you had outperformed in beyond imagination from the very start. Your methods unpredictable and out of the box, but highly effective. Out of them all, you were always the best at getting inside the heads of the unsubs and finding that one little thing that made them break.

He's seen it before countless times now, been witness to each spoken word, well placed emphasis, timely pause. The interrogation room was a stage and you were always the star.

It had been the topic of some conversation between himself and Rossi – how you'd managed to convince some of the toughest unsubs to crack under the pressure of your presence. Aaron, personally, chalked it up to your childhood and upbringing. When your entire life was a performance, you know how to play your role.

Now, as he watches you, he sees how you've managed to mimic the mannerisms of Caroline Geller from the home videos you'd seen of her – the slight tilt of the head, the fiddling with the ends of your hair. Your voice has shifted as well, a slightly higher and happier pitch, more like what one might expect of a dance teacher with students in primary school. You've done your homework on this one, that one is easily clear. However, it's the slight pause you have as the Unsub addresses you as Caroline, the nearly imperceptible tension in your shoulders as the Unsub mocks Caroline's desolate fiancé whom Aaron hadn't the heart to look at. This one had gotten to you, and you wouldn't be able to deny it. Not to him.

At long last, you get what you're searching for. The docks by the east river.

The answer came at a price – twenty five long minutes with just you and the Unsub as he poked and prodded at your psyche just as you did to him.

The confirmation from Garcia, of a heat signature at the given location, comes within the minute and Aaron is quick to rap his knuckles against the glass, signaling your curtain call.

*------------*

You can't save them all. That's the one lesson every new agent learns at their own pace.

You can't save them all.

She'd suffocated before you could get to her. You'd been too late.

JJ hadn't let you see Caroline's body, dragging you back and away from the dock containers when Derek had emerged with a somber face, slowly shaking his head.

Your gun feels heavy in your hand, and it is only out of sheer rote habit that you manage to disarm and reholster the weapon. JJ stands with you as the flurry of people begin to process the scene, lit only by the red and blue flashing lights of the police cars.

You'd failed. You'd been too slow to extract the location, too slow to get there. You'd been too damn slow.

You've lost victims before. Everyone has. But you lived in this girl. You'd worn her clothes, her shoes, taken her name. You'd walked like her, changed your voice to mimic hers. It was as though, by pretending to be her, you'd taken in a part of her that now yearned to reunite with the rest of its whole, but it wasn't able to. So now a piece of Caroline Geller rattled inside of you, sobbing and crying out for the rest of itself.

Hotch and Emily finally emerge and you follow JJ to join them as Hotch assigns everyone their roles. One of the policemen interjects and informs him that Caroline's fiancé had insisted on coming along and was now waiting with a deputy by the barricades. You see Hotch nod, his eyes briefly moving towards the direction of the barricade, before refocusing on the team and instructing Reid to assist with the evidence logging.

As everyone starts to disperse, you can feel a lead ball drop into the pit of your stomach, knowing that Hotch now had the task of informing the fiancé that Caroline Geller was dead.

"Hotch," you begin, his name coming out full and heavy, sitting in your mouth like warm air.

He halts at your voice, turning back towards you. He'd already given you your assignment, so he has to be wondering what you could possibly have to say to him.

You look up at him. It's just you, him, and Emily left now, as she waits for you to help her with processing paperwork on the unsub that Hotch had tasked you both with. "I – ," you falter as you meet his eyes, and you can barely see a hint of him behind them. He'd already donned his mask to go face the fiancé.

"I'm sorry," you manage quickly, jaw tight and heart clenching at the awfulness of the job that he now has to do. The job he always has to do.

The only acknowledgement you receive that he had even heard what you said over the din of the police and ambulance sirens, was the barest of wrinkling to his forehead. The ever so slight slippage of the mask during which you thought you might get to catch a glimpse of him, but he catches it far too quickly and keeps it in place. As if it never happened. Not even nodding, he turns away and walks towards the barricade.

It's a miserable few hours for Emily afterwards, you're sure, as you monotonously follow her back to the police station and begin the task of coordinating with the local office to handle the case and subsequent prosecution.

Emily likes to talk while the two of you work together. Rarely ever do the two of you work without talking, however she seems to pick up on your mood fairly well and the two of you quietly go through all of the required processes.

"You know what your problem is?"

You look up at Emily, who had finally broken the silence, her sharp voice cutting through the small storage room that the two of you inhabited, gathering all of the files that would need to be sent off to the local office.

You swallow, bracing yourself for the worst. At your slight nod, she proceeds, her voice a calm fury like you'd never seen before. "Even after everything you've done, after everything you had to go through, you seem to harbor this delusion that you're not supposed to be here."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you. Apologizing to Hotch. You think you don't belong here. That you aren't good enough. You think that girl dying today was your fault."

You scoff, shaking your head. "It was my fault," you retort, grabbing the box you'd just finished packing and making your way to the door before you're blocked by Emily, preventing your escape.

"No, it wasn't. The only person responsible for that girl's death is the guy who's going to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable, fucked up life."

You sigh, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other. "If I'd gotten – "

"You can't save everyone," she interrupts, barreling onwards. "We're going to try. We're going to try our best every single time. But we can't save everyone. None of us can. Not you, not me, not even Hotch. But that doesn't make it your fault."

Emily stares down at you, reaching out and grabbing the heavy box out of your hands and setting it down on the floor by your feet. You look away, up at the ceiling, tears pricking at your eyes, causing them to burn. Your chest feels tight and you take a shuddered breath. The lure of wanting to believe her was so very strong, struck against the waves of dissonance it posed in your head.

Emily softens her voice, reaching out towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she easily pulls you into her chest. "Hotch isn't blaming you. He doesn't think you have anything to be sorry for."

*------------*

The plane ride back was a somber affair, everyone on the team off on their own. Spencer was reading a new book whose title had caught your interest, Rossi was tucked away in a corner with his eyes closed but you're not sure if he's actually asleep. Both Emily and JJ were sitting close together, quietly sharing a bag of Cheetos while JJ worked on her presentation to Henry's class for Career Day and Emily bided the time alternating between reading the trashy romance she'd found left behind in her hotel room and staring out the window. Derek sat across from you with his headphones on, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Across the way, you can see Hotch diligently working on his report for the case, the only sound emanating from his faint taps against the keyboard.

Emily's words still play in your head, now competing with that churning voice that you'd had in your head for the past few weeks – you would never be good enough for the likes of Aaron Hotchner. Her words were starting to put some minute cracks in the foundation of that particular statement, and you had no idea what to make of that.

You hear the tapping of the keyboard stop momentarily and watch as Hotch turns up to look at you, your eyes meeting for a long second, before he breaks his gaze, returning back to the screen in front of him. From your seat, you can barely make out a slight crinkling of his forehead as his hands hover above the keyboard, as though faltering in typing out his next words. You have to guess that he's arrived at the part of his statement around the interrogation. You turn away, following Emily's lead and staring out your own window, while unbeknownst to you, his eyes can't help but return to you countless times more.

It felt as though you'd thought of very little besides Hotch, since that day that your mother had visited. She'd left in the wake of one of the few times you'd seen him lose his cool with someone, and having it be done on your behalf, in your defense, had somehow unveiled this entirely ridiculous truth that you'd tried in vain to deny.

You were in love with Aaron Hotchner.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Dating other people hadn't worked out so well.

Trying to simply get over it had been an exercise in vain.

You've run miles in your own head, trying to make sense of it. The question begged itself – why Aaron Hotchner? If you merely wanted a husband and kids, you've no doubt you could have that with anyone you got along with well enough.

Your mind had briefly flitted back to that final date you'd had with Cedric Kensington. It had been highly promising, you'd finally felt it heading in a definite direction and you could see it. You could see yourself being with Cedric, marrying him, having children with him if you were so inclined. Had you not gotten the call from Garcia, informing you that Foyet was back on the grid, who knows what could have happened. Maybe you could've had that with Cedric. Having that perfect life with someone else was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

You'd thought of John. How it had never been the right time when it came to the two of you. Then finally, when you could conceive being something real with him, you'd faltered. You couldn't go through with it. It hadn't been the right time to choose him. It hadn’t been the right time to choose anyone but yourself.

It had taken you some time but you think you've finally come to the right conclusion of why it was Hotch and no one else – the possibility of losing him was terrifying. Even when the two of you had been on the outs, you hadn't been able to leave, staying anchored to him despite being furious with him. Seeing him had been torture. Not seeing him had been so much worse, and you couldn't bring yourself to endure that again.

Given the absolute fact of the matter – you being in love with Hotch - there were really only two paths forward that you could see. Ignore it and hope it goes away, or tell him and pray you didn't lose him in the process.

The Pro/Con list to that second option had begun, unbidden, the week prior. Your mind going rogue and dreaming up ridiculous and absurd scenarios of you confessing your truth to him.

Pro: You're absolutely, unshakably, madly in love with him.

Con: There's a fairly good chance that he does not and will never reciprocate those feelings.

Pro: Aaron Hotchner was loyal to you. You had always felt he was, but your conversation a few weeks back had cemented that. He would do anything to help you, no matter what.

Con: He's twelve years older than you and has a kid.

Pro: You love his kid.

Con: Between the two of you, your past trauma could be its own wing in the Library of Congress.

Pro: You're both good at getting the other person to talk.

Con: You work together and workplace romances are frowned upon. He was your supervisor, and dating him would no doubt lead to rumors and malicious gossip, which would follow you the rest of your career at the Bureau. It could tarnish you entirely and it could also hurt him.

Con: You would not be alright if the two of you didn't work out. You know that you weren't even together, but the idea of ending things with Hotch, after knowing what it was to have him – that would break you entirely.

Con: He was going to say no, so it was all a moot point.

Towards the end, you'd run out of items for the Pros to balance out each Con, and as of now, the Cons were definitely in the lead.

*------------*

The two of you are once again the last two people in the office. Emily had been the last to leave, leaving her book from the plane on your desk, having already put sticky note bookmarks in all the right spots. She'd winked as she left, encouraging you to skip the rest of the book and skip straight to the good stuff. You had to smile at her attempts to cheer you up. Some friends bought you a drink. Emily Prentiss curated sex scenes that she thought you'd enjoy reading.

You glance up and see that Hotch's door is shut, the orange blush emanating through the glass windows, alluding to the fact that he'd given up on using the overhead lights. They were too bright for him and gave him headaches, so despite the strain on his eyes, he preferred to read by the glow of his desk lamp. With Jack away at sleepaway camp for Cub Scouts for the week, he's unlikely to leave early.

You grab your finished report and head up the stairs to his door, stopping and knocking before hearing his permission to enter. As you open the door, your eyes go immediately to his desk, however he's not seated behind it. Instead, you're greeted by a most unfamiliar sight.

Aaron Hotchner is seated on the brown leather couch in his office, a glass of amber liquid in his hands. You don't think you've ever seen Hotch not working in his office. Sure, he'll take a break here and there when you interrupt, but the image of him outright sitting on the couch, not a report in sight, was entirely foreign to you.

It feels as though you're intruding. Like you’ve stumbled upon something entirely private, because Hotch doesn’t strike you as the kind of guy that makes a habit out of drinking in his office by himself.

You could imagine this was something he did with Rossi on occasion, the two of them sharing a drink after a rough case or catching up and reminiscing about the so-called good old days, before the team had a plane on call.

"You can set that on the desk," he tells you, his voice deeper, made warm by the liquor. He doesn't look up from his glass, eyes fixed on something in the far off distance.

Unsure how to react to the sight in front of you, you quickly make your way across his office, setting your file on top of the already tall stack at the edge of his desk.

Turning around, you quickly walk back towards the door, eager to not bother him any longer than absolutely necessary. When you get to the door, you hesitate, turning back to face him. Before you can stop yourself, you can feel the words tumbling out of you. "Hotch, are you alright?"

He looks up in your direction, his expression entirely unreadable. He nods slowly, and you can see a deep sigh work its way through him, before he finally meets your eyes.

"It was a rough case. Telling the families isn't something I'll ever get used to, I think."

You nod sympathetically. It wasn't fair that it always fell on him.

"I'll be fine, though. Just need to be alone after some of them."

You nod again, not trusting yourself to say much. As you turn to leave, taking his words as your cue, he speaks again.

"You can stay."

You turn back, your head tilting in some confusion as you meet his eyes once more. He looks at you for a second longer, before reaching over to the side table and grabbing a second glass. He pours from the bottle of good scotch that Rossi had given him last Christmas while you watch him.

Proffering the glass in your direction, he beckons you forward. "You're easy to be alone with."

Somehow, in a slight daze, you manage to walk back towards the couch, reaching out and grasping the heavy crystal glass in your hand. He motions for you to join him and you sink into your usual spot, tucking your legs underneath yourself.

His eyes stay on you as you settle in and take a sip of the scotch, feeling it burn your lips, the tip of your tongue, before blooming into a subtle smoky sweetness in your mouth, settling into your stomach like dying embers.

"Are you alright?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You try not to squirm under his inspecting gaze, unable to offer much beyond a shrug. "I will be."

It's quiet for a moment as he continues to look at you and you distract yourself with a stray thread in the cushion stitching.

You hear him clear his throat, shifting slightly on the couch so that his leg bends at the knee as he turns his body to face you, arm stretched out on the back of the couch, fingers grazing the top of your shoulder. "You did everything you could."

You feel that heavy tug in your stomach, unable to look at him, knowing that your face would betray you entirely.

He says your name, soft on his lips, gentle with every part of you. He waits until you look up at him, meeting his brown eyes that held the warmth of an everlasting hearth.

"You did."

You nod slowly, because who were you to disagree with him. Because if Aaron Hotchner said you did everything you could, then maybe it was true.

Not much more is said that night, as the two of you sit side by side.

Pro: You could be alone with Aaron Hotchner.

[pollylynn]

Title: Twenty-Twenty WC: 1300 Episode: Valkyrie (6 x 01)

She misses the obvious things, or the things that would have been obvious if leaving New York hadn’t been such a sudden, frenetic sprint. There’s the food, top to bottom, with a special emphasis on literally a dozen different versions of Chinese for the dozen-plus different types of Chinese she might crave on any given night. There’s Chinese here. Of course there’s Chinese. It’s not like this is some cow town eight miles from the interstate. But there isn’t her Chinese.  There isn’t their Chinese, and she misses that. 

There’s the pace of everything, a pace that the very matrix of her bones resonates to. She misses lights her, like, all the time. She gets caught flat-footed by turn arrows like she’s from some cow town eight miles off the interstate. But she just doesn’t have the rhythm of the place down yet. 

She doesn’t know what to do with herself when she’s built far too much padding  into her commute and she’s too early to make this, not quite early enough to accomplish that. And she has truly no idea what to do when, despite all the padding she’s built in, she still somehow ends up running terribly late because of a motorcade or the act-of-god-level traffic jams or a . . . plague of locusts or whatever on the silver line. In New York, she could navigate ten out of ten biblical plagues and still have time to hit Zabar’s for a bagel. Here, there are days when she’s hard-pressed to make sure her fly is zipped and she doesn’t have oatmeal dribbling down her chin before she rushes into the office. 

She misses the water surrounding the island, rather than taking up residence in her hair, creating her own personal fog bank. She misses bodegas and proud ignorance of any world events that have the bad sense to take place outside the city. She misses feeling that she belongs—that she is, at all times, surrounded by her ballsy, foul-mouthed, head-down, take-no-shit people. 

She misses him. God, in the minutes after he puts her trigger discipline to the test, every cell, every blood vessel, every hair follicle and nerve ending in her body sings out just how badly she has missed him. In fact, it takes quite a while before her body will shut up a little bit about how much she has missed him, not just in body. And when it does—more out of the sad limitations of the flesh than any actual desire to stop singing out, she finds she’s a little quiet around him. 

Not that she’s ever been the talker in their relationship. But she finds that she is—not shy, exactly, just . . . quiet. It scares her at first. She thinks she’s fallen out of rhythm with him, that her leaving, them not working together, the last six weeks apart, have managed to shake loose the intense connection they’ve so long had with one another. 

It’s not that, though. The next morning, strangely enough, shows her that it’s not that. They are companionable in the morning. They are easy with each other and there is a distinct possibility that he’s going to try to seduce her, she’s going to let him, and there will definitely be no time for a fly check before McCord rolls up to collect her. And flitting in and out of that is another kind of seduction. He makes annoying astute guesses about the what and where of her case. He is annoying convincing when he posits that they could work together, knock off the case by 10:00 AM, and have  the rest of the weekend for themselves. 

It’s lovely. It’s . . . renewing in ways she doesn’t have time to examine before McCord does come to collect her. But the realization is there. The epiphany is waiting patiently for her to have time for it. She doesn’t have time for it until that night—their second night and the last one they’ll get to have together for who knows how long. 

She’s beyond quiet that second night. She is . . . weepy. It’s such an alien word, but it's apt. She doesn’t actually weep. She’s just . . . weepish, maybe, and she hates herself for ruining it. She hates herself for not being able to just embrace this—the joy of having him for one night, then two, for one companionable morning. 

“I miss you.” She ends up hurling the words like an accusation as they sit on the end of her couch that isn’t littered with boxes, holding each other close. His chin bumps the top of her head. I miss you, too. She knows he’s about to say it back, and she’s frantic to get another word in edgewise. “No, I mean it. I miss you.” She struggles to pull back far enough that she can look him in the eye. “This is hard.” 

That surprises him enough that his jaw snaps shut. Whatever he was just about to say is locked inside, and it gives her space to rush on again. 

“It’s really hard, Castle.” She scoots around to draw her knees up, to plant her feet against his thighs and sit at right angles to him. “I keep thinking I’ll hit my stride, but I’m flailing, and I think back to when I was just out of the academy, when I made detective, when I made it to homicide. I don’t—“ She shakes her head. Her forehead clonks against her own knees. “I don’t remember it being this hard.” 

She falls quiet. It’s not that she has nothing more to say. She has, if anything, too much more to say—about how she might be too old, or she might not be cut out for a job this big, how she was only ever built to be a big fish in a small, municipal pond. There are a whole host of might bes clogging her throat, but she can’t get any of them out. 

He shakes his head, though. He wriggles his fingers between the unforgiving sharpness of her kneecap and her forehead. He coaxes her chin up. 

“Kate.” He ducks in for a kiss. There’s something he’s not saying. There might be a lot of somethings he’s not saying.  Or he might be waiting for her to be ready for him to say anything at all. That might be it. “Kate, all those times before. You were . . . focused.” It’s a far kinder word than the her of fifteen years ago deserves, but it still gets her dander up. It still stiffens her spine, but he’s not inclined to let her go. “I mean—“ He rushes along, clumsy with his words, but not giving her an opening. “Those were all right after your mom. Right after. And now—I mean you are doing so much better now. You have this full life, you have so much more . . .” 

She feels her eyes narrow. She’s expecting a joke. She’s expecting some self-aggrandizing posture to get a laugh out of her, but his face is alight with sweetness and sincere wonder. 

“Isn’t it possible”—he shoots her a shy glance—“that it feels harder because you have more to balance now?” He holds her hands tight. “Isn’t it possible that it’s—at least some of it is—a good thing?” 

“A good thing,” she echoes. She still feels exhausted. She still feels gloomy and out of place here. But she knows now what it is, why she feels renewed by even this chaotic thirty-six hours with him, a night, another night, and a lovely, companionable morning sandwiched in between. She rises up to kiss him, to wrap her arms around him. “I miss you,” she whispers. “I miss the things you see.” 

A/N: The horror of leaving New York comes close to achieving morphousness

images via kissthemgoodbye

[whump-town]

Into Your Arms

@genevievedarcygranger this one’s for you (I would have done more but the other’s sucked ass)

Various ways Aaron Hotchner stumbles his way into his loved ones arms only to give them heart attacks because he’s a drama queen with awful timing (and inspired by this post)

(1) Haley

He tells her everything that he can when he gets home each night. A second debrief where he sits on the couch, anxiously rubbing at her fingers, and is allowed to feel the impact of what occurred. She knows it’s just the honeymoon phase, that’s why he still greets each day with a smile and promises her it’s not that bad. He’s still got that look in his eyes like he can save the world or eat it whole like he hasn’t decided but when he does...

She thinks that if there was ever a man who could succeed, it’s going to him. His background is so drastically different from everyone else there. Not the son of a politician, hardly the son of a lawyer. Aaron has dragged himself here bleeding, nothing more than roadkill to these men. He might not have been able to pour himself into these cases as they had, doesn’t have the experience, but he’s lived many of them. Felt abuse and escaped his monster’s hands. Maybe she’d just needed him to be different. Safe for once. 

But isn’t that what all those other men had wanted too?

It’s midnight when he gets home. She’s already in bed when she hears him fighting his bike into the door, the loud clatter of the pedals and the handles refusing to fit. All before he shouts angered and explosive and not nearly under his breath-- “fuck”-- before he gives up and throws it out onto the porch. Desperate with those thoughts that tell him everything is out to get him, that’s he’s alone in his misery.

She jumps when he slams the door, not expecting the sound from her typically very timid, soft-spoken husband. The man who will drop a dish or a pot and comes to find her to make sure he didn’t scare her. She’s known him for nearly all her life and she’s heard him utter maybe five curse words. It’s how she knows that what greets her downstairs will not be her Aaron but something broken, something like the boy who feverishly tried to convince her that his bruises and scars were something of her active imagination. The boy killing himself to save everyone else. 

“Aaron?” She comes down the stairs, making sure to hit every creaky board so that he can hear her coming. He’s not in the living room. None of the lights are on but with the street lights pouring in she can make out just enough, and he’s not there. She searches it twice, making sure her eyes don’t deceive her but he’s not there. “Aaron?” she comes around the side of the room and stops.

He’s standing in the kitchen, shoulders shaking. She can hear his soft intakes of breath, the way he presses his hands into his face to muffle the sounds of his sobs. “Oh, baby.” She comes around him, keeping her distance until she’s standing in front of him. Watching as he wipes at his face, jaw quivering as he fails to hide the tears streaming down his face. “Aaron,” she hesitates to touch him, waits until she’s certain he’s calmed down enough not to flinch at the contact. 

She starts with a hand on his shoulder-- this is the hardest part about loving him. No matter how many years she’s been here, no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen or talked to or been hurt by his father every time is like the first time. Like he’s still just a kid standing in his kitchen waiting to get beaten for something beyond his control. 

He lets her get closer, anxiety growing but he wants her there. Knows it won’t get better until she’s got both arms around him so he wills his body to remain stationary. He whimpers when she touches his back but she keeps going until their chest touch and there is, he’s right there. She wraps him as tight as she can. Feels his heart beat against her chest.

“Okay, okay--” she’s not ready for how quickly his knees give out from beneath him. She pulls him back when it startles him, holding his arms with her own, willing herself stronger to keep him down. “You’re okay.”

He shakes his head, bowing in until his face is in her shoulder. “No,” he rasps. “She was right there,” he cries. “I had her in my arms, Haley. I felt--” he chokes on his own words. Chest heaving. “She died and I held her, she wasn’t alone but I couldn’t do anything.” 

She hates the pain in his voice, the way he shakes nearly feverishly against her. 

“She was seven,” he cries, “and I held her the entire time, I promise I did. I tried but she just kept bleeding. She was so tiny, I don’t even know how she had so much blood. I hurt her, Haley. She cried when I put pressure on her wounds. She was scared and all I did was hurt her.” He’s frantic, trying to make her see his reasoning. See him for what he sees, the thing he flinches from in mirrors. 

She just holds him and waits for morning.

(2) David Rossi

Dave is going to put a tracker in the kid’s boxers. He’s fairly certain Haley might hate him but she might okay this idea, so long as nothing like this happens again.

“He’s like ten feet tall,” Max grunts, “how the hell did you lose him?”

Dave shoots him a glare in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t lose him!” He presses on the gas pedal, the old car groaning as it accelerates. There’s nothing David Rossi likes more than playing Mr. Cool & Collected and there’s nothing that Aaron freaking Hotchner has accomplished more than making Dave feel like the frantic father to a toddler that can’t just stand still in the store. It’s kind of ruining the badass vibe thing he claims so feverishly. It’s hard to be a hot FBI agent when he looks like those dads in the store, running up and down the aisle calling out for their child.

“Alright,” Jason soothes, reaching over to squeeze Dave’s elbow. He looks at the picture of calm but he can feel his own fears rising as the gauge climbs steadily over seventy miles per hour. “Easy, Dave. Have some faith in him, okay? You’ve put in the time, he’s a smart kid.” A blind hope sort of faith but all things considered (with the exclusion of the fact that Aaron is like a fire-bug and seems to not understand that you run from danger not to it) he’s has a good head on his shoulders.

“Right,” Dave mumbles. God, he should have left Aaron in Seattle.

They find him in a field and when Dave hears the deputy calling in his description-- early thirties, dark hair, slender build-- his breath catches in his throat. He’s expecting the kid from Seattle, whose gangly height had made Jason wince and Max laugh. Who drinks too much coffee and trips over everything to be brought back to him on a stretcher. A sheet thrown over his body. Suddenly all those jokes, the way Max pointed out Aaron’s ankles hang off stretchers, would fall bitter.

But instead, he sees that ten-foot-tall, 99% all-leg toddler that he hired and his throat dries.

There are deep, dark circles around his eyes. Too many cuts to count on his face, some actively dropping blood onto his dress shirt, but he still smiles. Still raises a hand to wave when Jason shakes his head and huffs out “that kid is a piece of work”. He leans heavily on the deputy at his side, wincing and limping but he’s upright and alive.

Dave gets to him first. Tearing through the tall grass to end up, chest heaving from the run, right in front of Aaron. He points a finger up at him, anger melting at the sight of just how tired he looks. How young he really is and Dave hates himself for bringing him into this stupid mess.  “Don’t you ever do something like that again, do you understand me?” Is this what it feels like to finally find your kid in the endless aisles of Walmart? Because he’s livid but he wants to pull this big oaf into a hug and never let him go. “You could have been killed. Do you know how much paperwork that is?”

Aaron smirks, tilting just a bit and wincing when he puts pressure on broken ribs.

“Come here,” Dave says far too angrily to make it clear he’s on the verge of tears here. He pulls Aaron down, cupping the back of his head closer and wrapping his other arm across his back. “Big old idiot,” he chides sniffling to keep his tears at bay. Dave can feel him shaking, shivering despite the humidity looming over them thickly. Making even the air nearly unbreathable it’s so thick.

Aaron grunts, shifting in Dave’s arms but not away. Just trying to be comfortable but his ribs light up like a match has been struck inside him. “Rossi,” is all the warning he can get out, knees rolling out from beneath him. He hits the ground with a thud, Dave grunting to keep him from falling completely.

Dave grabs him, wincing when Aaron’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth slacks open. Body jerking.

“It’s a seizure,” the deputy drawls. Dave is too shocked to fight as the deputy eases Aaron to the ground, rolling him onto his back, and holding him on his side. “You have to time it.” Dave looks down at his watch but he’s unable to think-- unable to breath as he hears Aaron moan in pain, crying softly as his body jerks beyond his control.

The deputy rubs Aaron’s chest, whispering something softly until Aaron’s eyes peel back open. His choked breathes easing into breathless pants, confused mumbles leaving his mouth. He doesn’t pull away from their touch, if anything Dave thinks he might actually press his face into Dave’s leg. Holding on a little tighter to Dave’s hand. “My son used to have them,” he tells them both. “You’ll be tired for a while but you’ll probably be fine.”

Unless it’s a brain bleed or a severe concussion or brain damage or a thousand other things.

“Da--Dave?”

He leans closer, squeezing Aaron’s hand and rubbing at his back. “I’m right here, you’re okay.”

Aaron peels an eye open, that signature scowl slipping into place. He looks like himself for a few moment as he looks around and artfully deducts, “I’m laying in the mud.” Leave it to Aaron. “It’s cold.”

Dave thinks again to the sweat pouring down everyone else’s backs. To the humidity so thick it should be considered a solid at this point, defying all laws of matter. “Shut up,” he says entirely too softly to be taken as it should be. A jab, a taunt. “You’re always cold.”

The crunching of grass betrays the medics coming in behind them but Dave doesn’t leave Aaron’s side. He hears the deputy tell them about the seizure. He smiles down at Aaron, brushing back a strand of hair. “I’m putting a tracker in your underwear. Gonna handcuff you to me next time we go anywhere.” And as Aaron’s eyes slip closed, loosing his battle with fighting his body, he smiles.

Dave already complains that he walks too fast, how would handcuffing them together solve anything?

(3) Penelope Garcia

They entrusted him in her care. She’d seen the hesitation in Emily’s eyes, watched her move back to Aaron’s side twice before averting her eyes and going to stand back by Dave. As if physically putting distance between them would solve the gut-rotting feeling Emily has that she’s abandoning him. That they’re all awful for leaving him but there are no other options. They leave him and they go solve this case and they can come right back as soon as it’s over.

“I’ll watch him,” Garcia promises. “We’ll be okay.”

And it’s relieving to know that it’s Garcia who will be here. It’s unspoken the connection between Garcia and Hotch. No need to review the ways he won’t even behave for Emily or Dave, he will succumb to Garcia’s nurturing ways. Let her tuck blankets around him and fuss with him about resting when he wants to sign himself out. He’s far more hesitant to hurt her. He loves her just a little bit more.

“Call if you need anything,” Derek reminds her again, as he stalls at the door. Looking back between Garcia and Hotch, convinced there is no way this goes over smoothly. No way Hotch doesn’t burn her trying to self-destruct and he’s afraid of what that will do to both of them. Garcia has ever right to be wounded by the daggers Hotch throws when he’s down-- a wounded animal cornered, snapping and teeth barred fighting with all he has left. But if Hotch sees the blood, sees the way that he hurts them… He doesn’t need any help placing those knives in his chest,  prying his ribs open to see his heart. Trying to convince himself, as his blood flows freely over his hands, that his human. 

They’re all terrified of what will happen this time. As they are every time he goes down. How much longer until the next time? How close will he let them get? How much blood is it going to take? 

“We’ll be okay,” Garcia says again because she’s still trying to believe it herself. 

But she knows that when he wakes up, he will be someone else entirely. An animal biting it’s leg off to escape, unaware that is leaves that mutilated limb behind that they will never get free. A few feet. Maybe a mile. Blood loss and infection will set in and they will die alone. Panting but free. 

Aaron never cares about what he has to loose, he  just has to get free. 

The drugs hold him back for a day. She sits there, expecting every little hitch in his breathing to be the start, but the next inhale comes and all she has is a pained groan or a soft sigh. 

She falls asleep, laptop precariously tipping off her hips, when he wakes. He doesn’t make a sound, just peels his eyes back and takes in his surroundings. He’s panicked, on the edge, and he sees her but he can’t say a word. He’s too tired, too drugged to even try to make the great escape he’s already formulating in his mind. 

She hears the monitors pick up, something shifting in the room. “Sir,” she gasps but she’s a little too late. He’s already sitting up, hunched down and over himself. “Are you okay? Should I--” 

The door is thrown open, startling them both with the bright lights from the hall into the dark room. 

“Hotch are you okay?” she stays right beside him, trying to get him to say something. Anything.

The nurses buzz around him, not as frantic as she feels just quick practiced movements. She watches them give up trying to move Hotch’s arms, raising the sleeve of his gown up and plunging something into his arm. They step back, going to the machines.

“Hotch?” she tries again, softer. 

He turns his head, eyes darting between hers.

“Are you okay?” she touches his shoulder and nearly jumps in surprise when he leans into her. She hesitates for only a second-- mind racing to understand what’s happening right now. Hotch who avoids hugs and hates attention, leaning into her. Seeking out comfort. “It’s okay,” she whispers, pulling his shoulders closer to her. “You’re okay.” 

She can feel him deflating, all of him now against her. Head on her shoulder and his other arm, not the one pinned between their bodies, trying to reach closer. His breaths even out, no longer quick and shallow as they had been before. 

“It was a sedative,” one of the nurses assures her. “He’s okay. He just needs to rest.”

Garcia nods and tries to pretend like that idea doesn’t terrify her. She’ll call Derek or maybe Dave just someone later and tell them about this. How quickly Hotch had just gone limp in her arms, unable to hold his body up. She’ll cry in the shower and probably every night after this-- is that how desperately he needs a hug? Should she have really been listening to him all these years and skipping him while showering the others in affection? 

She doesn’t fall back asleep, she sits up with him. Listening to his breathing and calming him back down before he can wake up or work himself into a nightmare. She’ll make up for when she wasn’t there and vow that once he’s back on his feet, she’s going to pull him down into a hug and she’s never going to let go.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [10]

Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

➜ Words: 5.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You love baking.

It’s what got you through the years of high school, through your grandparent’s passing and when home wasn’t the refuge you wanted it to be. For a long time, baking was the only real interest you had. And for great reasons too. It was magic and every time you stepped into the kitchen, you felt like a magician, pouring ingredients in, mixing to get an instant product.    It’s chemistry with a sweet result. Something you can share with others.   And that passion has only deepened over time. You love baking desserts, pastries, cakes, tarts, everything. Even things with chocolate, no matter how hard it is to master them.   But fuck. Lemon meringue pie is an absolute bitch.   “The pie filing is a bit watery.” The teacher places her tasting fork down. “Not too bad, but lots of room for improvement, you two. Watch that starch.”   You and Jungkook sigh. This was your second attempt too. You swear this dessert is a nightmare in disguise and here to ruin your career.   Taehyung notices the gloomy atmosphere bogging you and Jungkook down. He slides up to your counter after the teacher goes to judge the next pair that have finished. “Can I get a taste?”   “Knock yourself out.” The boy beside you pushes the sad pie over to him.   Taehyung eats, tasting it thoughtfully on his palate, and hums.   “The crust is a bit soggy, huh?”   “I don’t get what we did wrong,” you mutter.   At least this was just practice and not a time-constricted examination. But so much for picking Jungkook as your partner. You thought he was the most competent baker in this class and thus the most worthy to bake with you. But maybe you gave him too much credit.   “Well, there could be a number of things you did wrong. Maybe you boiled your cornstarch for too long or at too high of a temperature. When did you add in the lemon? The acidity might’ve destroyed your cornstarch’s ability to stay thick,” Taehyung points out, suddenly an expert on pies. “Also did you make sure the lemon filing was hot before you spread the meringue? That might be your issue as to why the filing is a watery mess. Try again, guys. Maybe you’ll succeed next time.”   “What the fuck.” Jungkook has his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits. Like you, he’s baffled. He doesn’t even process it and is unable to think of a comeback to Taehyung’s condescending tone.    Taehyung is an idiot. Usually. Since when did he know better than the two best people in class?   “Want a taste of ours?” A huskier voice sounds behind Taehyung. The brunette moves aside and you find Yoongi at the counter beside yours, a smirk plastered on his face. He sets down his lemon meringue pie. It looks similar to yours.   “Sure.”   You wonder what their pie’s issue is. But as you dig into the slice they cut and put it on your tongue, there’s an explosion of flavour.   Their crust is buttery and crispy, meringue fluffy on your tongue and soft. The filling is sweet yet balanced with a citrus sharpness to the flavour. You almost cream your pants as you swallow. Your mouth is watering for another lick, but you have too much dignity and pride to do so.   Unfortunately, Jungkook can’t hide his expression as well as you can.   “Good, right?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi are wearing shit eating grins, obviously relishing in your reactions. “The teacher said it was the best she’s tasted in a long time. Asked us if we cheated and bought it at a bakery.”   “This’ll probably be our last attempt.” Yoongi hums, crossing his arms. “Probably don’t need to try again. She said she’d give it an A anyway, and you can’t really get any better than that.”   You take a deep breath and grab Jungkook by the shoulder to drag him back to the counter with as much dignity as you have left.   //   The scent of lemon is stuck to your skin permanently. Even with a change of clothes and your apron stuffed in your locker, you can still smell the damn thing when you’re miles away from the kitchen.   “Can you smell that or am I going crazy?”   “No.” Jungkook already knows what you’re talking about. “I can smell it too.”   “God.” You bang on the door and Jimin opens it. “Hey, Chim.”   “Hey, guys.” The two of you step inside where the others have already gotten started, playing Super Smash on the TV with Yoongi and Taehyung battling against one another. It’s not an unusual sight, but what makes you stop in your tracks is that—   “Aeri?”   Your friend is seated on the couch with Hoseok’s arm looped around her casually. “Hey.” She greets you with a shy smile.   You nod, rather impressed at this new development. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”   “I didn’t either,” she admits and Hoseok grins at you.   You throw your bag down while Jungkook flops beside Yoongi, taking a controller to join in.   “Gonna play?” Jimin asks, about to hand you a controller too but you shake your head.   “Nah. Not yet. I’m starving.” You pat your stomach and walk to the kitchen, ready to raid the fridge of whatever it has.   “Don’t eat the meringue pie!” Yoongi shouts after you.   “Fuck you,” you spit without looking back. “I wouldn’t even if you paid me to.”   Now that’s one huge lie. But you still have your pride to hold onto.   “Let me join you.” Aeri gets up and scrambles from Hoseok’s arm much to his dismay.    You hum, peeking into the fridge and purposely overlooking the beautiful, godly pie in the middle. Min Yoongi must’ve placed it there to mock you on purpose. That fucker would.   But you aren’t swayed and you grab the jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam as well as the stale bread. You place the ingredients on the counter to slap a sandwich together.   In the meanwhile, Aeri lingers on the other side of the island. “How was your day?” she asks.   “Good,” you answer and don’t beat around the bush— “So you’re dating Jung?”   She coughs, sputters, caught off guard by your question. “Well…..I-I don’t know.” You loll your head to the side, giving her a look, and the blush on her cheeks deepen in hue. “Maybe? I don’t know…..it’s...kind of my first time….”   “Being in a relationship? Yeah, I get it.” You smile reminiscently. Even if you’ve lost a comrade to the curse called love, you can’t feel bitter about it. You know what it’s like — the excitement, butterflies, nervousness, how every touch got your heart racing into what you thought would put you into cardiac arrest. The innocence of a first love can never be repeated. “Do you like him?”   “Y-Yeah. I think so.” Aeri struggles to explain how she feels and makes wild gestures without realizing. “Every time I see him and every time he’s gone….I...I….”   “You miss him.”   The girl in the sweater nods and tugs on her sleeves self-consciously. “Sometimes I get really anxious that I’m doing something wrong and other times I’m so happy.”   “Yeah, that’s how it goes. Love’s a crazy thing, huh?” You spread the peanut butter on one side of the bread. “Fucks with your brain real bad.”   “It does,” Aeri agrees sheepishly. “And I don’t like being out of control with my feelings, but I think….it’s worth it.”   “I’m jealous.” The words come out before you can stop it, but then you reel back and you laugh it off, slapping both halves of your sandwich together. “Not really. I’m kidding. Anyway, take it slow and you’ll be fine. Hoseok’s a good guy. You have nothing to worry about.”   “Yeah, I know.” She grins, rocking back from her heel to her toes, beaming with joy.   “And if he ever hurts you, tell me.” You slam the butter knife you have in hand onto the counter and it makes her jolt in surprise. “I’ll kill him.”   Giggles bubble out of Aeri's throat. They diminish as you finish making your sandwich, tossing your tools into the sink. But she doesn’t easily let go of the slight envy you had accidentally expressed. “You’re doing okay, right, Y/N?”   “Things couldn’t be better,” you assure with a grin.   Except that’s a lie too.   The both of you arrive back to the living room and your ears perk, catching wind of a husky voice, “—pie is good enough to win the competition, guaranteed, so that’s why we signed up.”   If there was one thing in your life that could be better, it would be Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung’s humbleness or rather, lack thereof.    “Are you still talking about your pie, Yoongi?” You scoff, flopping down to the couch, and eyeing him with a cocked brow. Aeri slides back beside Hoseok in the meanwhile and the dark-haired man is visibly happy to have her return to his side, arm coming to drape the back of the couch again. “You have no other accomplishments to rave about?”   “At least I have one.”   “It wasn’t even that good,” you tell the rest of them just for the record.   But Yoongi audibly scoffs. “Really? Because it looked like Kook here was about to start crying.”   “Jungkook always looks like he’s about to cry when he’s put on the spot.”   Your kitchen partner turns his head away from the screen towards you. “Excuse me?”   “Just admit it,” Taehyung eggs you on to further irritate you. “Our lemon meringue pie was the best thing you’ve ever tasted and that we’re going to crush the other teams.”   “After we pick up that five hundred dollar prize, I might as well retire.” Yoongi stretches out his muscles with a small smirk. “I finally found the product I can sell for the rest of my life.”   “Gordon Ramsay would probably put it on his menu to serve,” Taehyung says to his partner who shrugs nonchalantly.    “I wouldn’t be surprised.”   You whirl your head to the other people in the room to see if they’re hearing this like you are.   Both Jimin and Aeri are sheepish and shrug at you, not knowing what to say. Hoseok grins, enjoying the back and forth. But you know that look on Jungkook’s face, the expression he exchanges with you. The two of you are pissed off at their cockiness.   Hoseok notices and decides to throw gasoline into the fire. “Was it really that good?”   “You can try it if you want. It’s still in the fridge.” The corner of Yoongi’s lips curl. “But it’s better than Y/N and Jungkook’s, that’s for sure.”   “A lot better than theirs,” Taehyung says in a matter of fact way. “Theirs was sad, the filing and crust soggy. The meringue was weeping too. What a shame.”   “Can’t blame them,” Yoongi adds as he leans back into the couch, spreading his thighs like he owns the damn place. Which he does. But that’s not the point. “Lemon meringue is hard to make. Only the best. Excellent. Competent. Most talented can bake it.”   “That’s right,” Taehyung agrees.   A muscle in your cheek twitches. Your jaw clamps.   That’s enough for you to snap. “Jungkook and I are competing too.”   Your partner looks away from the game and quirks a brow. “We are?”   “Yeah.” Your eyes flicker from him back to the grinning duo. “So we’ll see who the best really is.”   //   It hindsight, it was a bad, bad decision made on impulse.   The baking competition was taking place on a Sunday at school with four teams already signed up, including Taehyung and Yoongi. The competition itself isn’t too shabby, especially considering that the five hundred dollar prize is a great incentive.    The problem is you and Jungkook haven’t prepared anything whatsoever. And it’s a problem that explains why most students don’t do bake-offs — sometimes it’s more effort than it’s worth.   The pair of you haven’t decided anything. You both haven’t practiced.    “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jungkook asks, standing in front of the bulletin board with all the details of said competition happening within the next few days.   “Come on, Jeon!” You try to ignore your own doubts by firing him up, plopping a hand on his shoulder. “We have our pride and our dignity on the line.”   “I’ve never had too much dignity to begin with,” he mutters.   “Are you really going to let Yoongi and Taehyung tell you that they’re more competent than you?”   Jeon Jungkook scoffs, his competitiveness being poked at. “Yoongi can’t pipe for shit and the only thing Taehyung can bake is bread.”   “Exactly.”   He nods and together, the two of you sign your names on the sheet, bracing for whatever is to come.

The day of the competition arrives sooner than expected.   You’ve gathered at an open kitchen with all your friends watching on the risers at the sidelines, and two of those most annoying idiots are at the counter beside you. There are ninety minutes on the clock and three teachers you know seated at the front with bright smiles. Mrs. Pham is nodding her head, Mr. Chu looking around while Miss. Kang coming forward with a microphone.   Something that should be a friendly contest has you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Yoongi oozing an intense competitiveness that has the other three teams scared.   “Alright folks, when the timer begins, you can begin and get whatever ingredients you need from the pantry. Remember, you will be judged on taste, presentation and creativity equally! Try your hardest and have good sportsmanship!”   “Ready?” You lean in to whisper to Jungkook, eyes meeting his and he nods sternly.   “Is everyone ready?” Miss Kang lifts her arm and on three counts, grins. “Go!”   The timer begins and Jungkook books it to the pantry with Taehyung is hot on his tail.   In the meanwhile, you preheat the oven to four hundred degrees fahrenheit and grease two baking sheets that are already at your counter. Jungkook ends up coming back sweaty but with a basket of things you need and doesn’t seem to be missing anything.   “Nice.”   “Course, I have it all up here.” He mischievously taps his temple, making you lightly scoff.   “Hand me the—”   Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook slides the butter across the countertop and you catch it.    “I got you.” The boy in the white apron winks, making you roll your eyes.   You combine one cup of butter and two cups of water in a large saucepan, putting it over medium heat. At the same time, Jungkook works in sync with you and gets two cups of flour prepared with a half teaspoon of salt.   Right when the butter finishes melting, you remove it from the heat and whisk in the flour and salt. He puts the egg carton beside you and begins to chop the semi-sweet chocolate he had gotten from the pantry.   Beside you, Yoongi and Taehyung have fallen into a rhythm as well. They shout calmly at one another, as calm as shouting can be. You know they’re not to be underestimated, but it’s comforting to know that you don’t need to win — you just need to beat Yoongi and Taehyung.   Miss. Kang approaches the pair of them. “What are you two doing here? Ooh, Yoongi, looks like you’re making pie crust and Taehyung you’re making working on some filing?”   “It’s lemon meringue pie,” Taehyung says with a grin, flickering his eyes up.   The teacher is genuinely impressed. “A classic, but one with great difficulty to master. I’m excited to taste it. Are you nervous at all?”   “Not really,” he responds. “Our pie is the best.”   “I am loving that confidence, you two. Keep it up!”   She continues around and as you’re working, you hear the team behind you are making rhubarb cherry pie. Another team is working on mocha truffle cheesecake and the last, a duo diagonal to you, is baking blueberry bread pudding.   It seems like everyone has a solid plan, but you don’t dwell or pay too much mind. You focus on beating the eggs into the mixture one at a time until the batter is smooth.   “What a lovely sight to see, Jungkook and Y/N!” Miss. Kang is ecstatic to see the two of you working together. Especially when she was the one who paired you both to the internship happening in two months while being completely aware of the bitter feud that was going on back then. “And what are you two making today on this beautiful afternoon?”   “We’re making croquembouche,” Jungkook says with a smile as he finishes chopping his chocolate. His announcement seems to get the attention of the other contestants, Yoongi and Taehyung whipping up their heads to look as well.   The teacher is taken aback. “And you’re making that in an hour and a half?”   “That’s the plan.” Jungkook grins with that bunny smile of his, channeling that Jeon charm of that almost has you rolling your eyes yet again.   “It will be very impressive if you two can pull it off. Well, good luck!”   Miss. Kang walks another round before waltzing back to where Mrs. Pham and Mr. Chu are waiting. She must murmur something to them because their eyes suddenly widen and they look over at your station.   Jungkook works on spooning the choux dough into twenty four small rounds on each baking sheet and once it’s in the oven, the timer sets for half an hour.    “It’s in.”   “Good.”   Quickly, you wash the raspberries and leave them to dry before preparing the caramel mixture. You pour the sugar into a saucepan and then add two thirds cup of water, allowing sugar to boil and you move to prepare the ice water.    Jungkook, on the other hand, heats the one cup of heavy whipping cream until it shimmers and pours chocolate over it. He stirs until it’s all melted and lets it sit to return to room temperature after sprinkling in coarse sea salt.   Once the choux is golden brown, it’s out of the oven and both you and Jungkook work side by side to pipe the ganache into the choux.   “Twenty minutes left everyone!” Mrs. Pham announces.   “I’ll grab the caramel,” Jungkook says and you nod, going to get the serving plate.   The both of you work fast. You dip the choux into the caramel and leave it on the tray for Jungkook to begin assembly. But in the midst of working, he notices your hands beginning to shake.   “Hey, Y/N.” He calls you softly and your eyes flicker up. “It’s going to be okay. We’re doing well.”   You nod. It’s calming to have his reassurance and you finish dipping all forty eight in while Jungkook forms them into a cone shape, towering up to your eyes. You bring over the caramel, the consistency that of syrup, and you lightly drizzle around the choux pastry puffs. The thin threads of caramel wrap around the dessert, gold and glistening in the light.   Jungkook’s brows furrow, placing the raspberries between them in the last few remaining seconds.   “Here.” You help him.   “Ten….nine….eight….seven….six….” Mr. Chu is counting down, watching the timer go off. Then it rings. “Alright folks, step away from your plates, please!”   It looks like all the teams have finished on time, and the scent of baking surrounds your senses — breads, chocolates, and cooked sugar. The air is sweet.   You look over and Yoongi and Taehyung are grinning. Their perfect lemon meringue pie is on their counter, exactly replicated from last time. But your eyes move back at your own dish, and you find pride blooming in your chest. The french dessert stands tall, choux pastry puffs piled into a cone shape and bound with threads of caramel wrapped around it.    On the sidelines, Jimin, Aeri and Hoseok are cheering, and while you’re not sure if it’s for the other team or your own, you like to think both of you deserve it.   “I think we did pretty well, if I do say so myself.” Jungkook gives you a cheeky smile, getting you to high five him.   You giggle after your hands slap together. “I think so too. Ours has the best presentation that’s for sure. It’s only about taste now.”   “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Well...I don’t know about your pastry, but my ganache filling is…” He does a chef’s kiss, gathering his fingertips together to kiss against them and then opening up his hand.   You scoff. “Please, Jeon. If there’s any issue, it’s going to be the caramel or the ganache. My pastry is perfect. I would know. My specialty is going to be in pastries.”   Jungkook grins, expression all too playful. “Okay, we’ll see then.”   The three judges go around, giving a taste to all the dishes and giving compliments. As expected, their eyes bulge at Yoongi and Taehyung’s pie, and Taehyung seems to charm them too. All of them laugh, openly wondering if they somehow cheated and slipped in a pie from a gourmet bakery.   “Very fluffy and crisp. Absolutely delicious.”   Mr. Chu bobs his head in approval. “I’m not much of a pie person myself, but very well done.”   “Thank you.” Yoongi offers a modest smile.   They move on, having nice things to say about everyone with few criticisms. And when they come over to you two, they’re smiling and all the contestants pay close attention. “Now to the dessert of the hour.”   “It’s incredible that the pair of you managed to make croquembouche in an hour and a half. It can take some up to four hours, so I’m very impressed over your ambition,” Miss. Kang admits, “There was a point I thought you weren’t going to make it. But you worked hard and finished it off, so well done.”   “A very tedious and painstaking dessert to make,” Mrs. Pham notes. “But you both work well together if you can pull off something like this under such strict time conditions.”   “Exceptional teamwork,” Mr. Chu agrees.    They each take a choux from the top onto their plates with raspberries, and a bit of caramel. When they bite into the pastry, they quirk their brows in surprise. “It isn’t pastry cream?” Miss. Kang chews thoughtfully. “It’s salted ganache.”   “Jungkook works well with chocolate and I work well with pastries so we decided to combine both our skills and put a twist to the usual croquembouche,” you explain.   “Very creative!”   “The salted ganache is also bittersweet and the choux is very crisp,” Mr. Chu says as he swallows. “Typically the choux has to be chilled in the fridge, but in spite of skipping that step, I cannot taste the difference. The raspberry is a good touch as well and not just for presentation.”   Mrs. Pham nods at him. “It’s crunchy and has a good bitter note to lessen the sweetness of the caramel. It’s perfect.”   “Well done, you two!” Miss. Kang grabs for another. Once they finish up, they take a step back. “We’ll take ten minutes to decide the final results!”   After the announcement is made, they return to their places at the front as Yoongi and Taehyung slink over.   “I’ll admit…” Yoongi ganders at your tower of pastries. “This is pretty damn extra.”   “We take challenges seriously,” you chime with a grin and he smirks.   “Can I have one?” Taehyung asks, fingers itching, eyes glimmering. “They made it sound so good.”   “Sure.” But you stop him before he can grab one. “On one condition. I get a slice of your pie.”   “Deal.”   “So you admit it.” Yoongi cocks his brow, smiling. “Our pie is delicious.”    “I never said it tasted bad.” You mischievously shrug.   “I want a slice too,” Jungkook says as he leans over. “Or two.”   Yoongi takes a choux off of your tower and grins. “Fine by me.”   While Taehyung moans about how good your croquembouche tastes, the other contestants come swarming over, curious and wanting one as well. Jimin shouts from the sidelines to save him one and Jungkook hands them out. In the meanwhile, you go over with Yoongi to claim a slice of the meringue pie and get Jungkook’s before it’s all gone too.   “Think you’re gonna win?”   Yoongi shrugs, surprisingly not as arrogant as before. “Maybe. We’ll see.”   You lightly scoff at him. “Where did that confidence go?”   But the dark-haired man merely shrugs. He cuts you a piece and you don’t hesitate to dig in. Yoongi smiles when he sees you openly enjoying the pie without restraint and then his eyes travel across the room to where Jungkook is still happily handing out the pastries. “So this is what the dream team can cook up, huh?”   “Dream team?” You frown.   “Yeah. You and Kook,” he says it like it’s obvious. “You two are the ultimate pair. What? You’ve never heard people say that before?”   “People? Who?”   His shoulders bounce nonchalantly. “Classmates. Teachers. I’ve heard it a few times and it’s true. You make up for what the other person lacks and you work well together. It was easier to deal with when the two of you still hated one another, but now that the top two kids can work with each other, it sucks for the rest of us.”   You burst out laughing. “You just have a lot to catch up on, Min. Don’t fall behind on me and Jeon.”   “Kind of hard not to when you’re both maniacs.”   Jungkook comes barrelling over for his piece of pie before you can eat it.   You also try other contestants’ desserts before the judges return, making you all scramble back to your stations.   “The results are in!” Miss Kang announces with a bright smile. “Everyone did exceptionally well today and it was difficult to come to a decision, but there’s a team in here today that was just exceptional and demonstrated that it’s possible to push the limits on taste, creativity, and presentation!”   You look over to Jungkook and he grabs your hand, bracing for it. “Please give a round of applause to our winners—”   Suddenly you’re being picked up.   Jungkook has his arms wrapped around you and lifts you off your feet, swinging you around. After a second, he sets you down onto your feet again, but you’re bewildered. There are claps from the few in the audience, the contestants and teachers applauding and all staring at you and Jungkook.    Aeri, Hoseok, and Jimin are on the stands cheering loudly. Yoongi is smiling while nodding in approval. Taehyung is grinning. And Jungkook places his palms to your cheeks. Your mouth forms into fish lips, face squished together, and he makes you look at him. Your dazed eyes meet his.   “We won!”   “We….won?” You blink. His doe eyes are glimmering like there are stars captured in his dark irises. Jungkook’s pretty — you never really thought about that before. “We. won. We won?!”   You can’t believe it. But after some words of congratulations, it sinks in.   “We won, you freaking idiot!” You jump on your feet and hug Jungkook again. He smells like chocolate and sugar, his apron dirty against yours, but you don’t particularly care. Not in this moment. “You’re not such an idiot, after all!”   Jungkook laughs, boyish features scrunched up. You smile at him.   Maybe Yoongi’s right. No. You know he is — you and Jungkook are the ultimate duo. Like two socks that make a pair, like two magnets that attach, like dumb and dumber. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, Jungkook!” Baekhyun approaches him in between their class break, and they fist bump each other. “I heard you won that competition with Y/N. Congrats, man.”   “Thanks.”   “How’s it going by the way? Haven’t seen you in a while.” The two of them are not necessarily close, but they became friends in last semester’s sanitation and safety class where they both died of boredom together.   “As great as it can be with exam season coming up.”   “Yeah, it’s tough.” Baekhyun sympathizes with a sigh. “Business communications is destroying me. Like I need to get at least a ninety on the finals to pass the course.”   Jungkook sharply inhales. “That’s rough, dude.”   “But hey, after this then it’s just our internships. That’s the only thing getting me through it. That and my girlfriend. Oh yeah, you were going to do wedding cakes, right? How do you feel about it?”   “I’m still not sure,” Jungkook admits and then without thinking much, says, “The only thing getting me through it is being able to hang with Y/N.”   He hasn't seen you since the competition which was two days ago, but it’s still a long time. Especially when he’s used to you plopping down beside him during breakfast, lunch or dinner — when he’s used to you banging your fist on his dorm room — when he gets texts with you whining about period cramps — when you come from nowhere and pester him till the end of the world.   Jungkook’s still buzzing over the victory, but it’s been tough days one after another. The only thing that gets him through it is finally being able to see you and spend some time with you.    These days Jungkook prefers being with you anyway as opposed to hanging out with Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok. They’re noisy and always worsen his headache. Sure you like to purposely egg him on and tease him, but your company is still peaceful and worthwhile. Most of the time.   “So you two are finally dating?”   “What? No. No, we aren’t.” Jungkook laughs it off. It’s an odd idea that still sends shivers down his spine.   “Oh, okay, my bad.” Baekhyun smiles. “It’s just that I see you both hanging around together a lot and I’ve heard you talk about her a lot too.”   “Yeah, we’re friends.”   “So you’d be okay with it if she dated someone else?” he suddenly asks.   “Uh…” Jungkook’s caught off guard, mouth opening before closing like a fish out of water. “I guess?”   “You guess?” He pauses. Jungkook flashes him an odd look and Baekhyun laughs loudly, lifting his hands and backing off. “Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude or be annoying. It just reminded me of before my girlfriend and I got together.”    “It was kind of hard to tell where the line of friendship and romance was and then one day I realized that friends don’t really miss each other in the way that partners do. Like when you miss them when it’s only been a short period of time, like a day or two. But anyway,” Baekhyun sing-songs, “I shouldn’t stick my nose into anywhere it belongs. I know I tend to do that and Jessica always yells at me for being rude. Oh shoot. I should get going now before I’m late. See you around?”   “Y-Yeah….See you.”   Baekhyun smiles and walks away, not knowing the bomb he just dropped.    Jungkook’s brows furrow and he begins to dangerously wonder.    He wonders if he’s supposed to miss you like this when it’s only been two full days. If he’s supposed to come to you every time something goes wrong. If he’s supposed to think of you every time there’s good news. If he’s supposed to think of you this much.   Friends aren’t supposed to think about each other like this.

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 12

AN: I’ve been waiting to write this chapter for so long! Can you believe it’s been a year since I started this story? 

Ch 12: Mare

AO3 Link

Dear Mickey Mouse Calendar, 

It’s May 2nd, and you know what that means! Well, besides bringing May flowers of course! The flowers are going to be so beautiful this year, I can tell! Especially once they bring the butterflies and the birds and the bees! Oh dear, do you think Brain knows about the factory in the sky that produces cute little mouse babies? I hope so. 

Anyway, the beautiful, lovely, fantabulous Pharfignewton’s gonna be running in the Derby in just a little bit! She’s worked really really hard to get this far, and I’m super proud of her! She’s gonna be one step closer to the Triple Crown when she wins! 

Anyway, I’m running out of room on this page, so I just wanted to say I love you, Figgy Pudding! May the best mare win!

Love, 

Pinky 

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky added a heart by his name with a sparkly pink gel pen and blew a kiss to the image of Mickey and Minnie driving a cute little car into the sunset. Then he recapped the pen, washed his hands of extra glitter, and returned to the TV, which had been tuned into the Kentucky Derby for the past two hours. 

They were still conducting pre-race interviews with the owners, jockeys, and trainers. Though there were several saddled horses with colorful numbers in the background, none of them were Pharfignewton. 

But they were still very beautiful horses, clopping around on the dirt-covered track as they flicked their ears and tails in anticipation of the race.  

Several boxes of leftover pizza and paper plates were laid out in front of the television.. It was so nice of the scientists to throw a pizza party and let them have the leftovers! Pepperoni, mac and cheese, and pineapple pizza were all so delicious, and they tasted even better when all three were combined on a single slice! 

Pinky popped a pineapple cube in his mouth, giggling as it stung his tongue. Then he turned to his hat, which laid a short distance away from the leftover pizza so it didn’t get soiled. Lovely, glittery red and purple roses decorated the outside of the hat, and every inch was decked with colorful feathers, encouraging messages, and Pharfignewton’s name so everybody for miles around could see he was rooting for his favorite horse. 

Since the hat was too big and heavy for him to wear throughout the pre-race festivities, he decided to just put it on a few minutes before the race instead.

And it was so sweet of Gummy, Madame Daisy, Nicholas, and Mr. Button to support Pharfignewton! They were all gathered in front of the TV so they could watch the Derby too! 

Pinky’s ear twitched at a gagging noise on his left, and he turned his head just in time to see Brain spit a chunk of pineapple onto a napkin. 

“Of all things, why in Selene’s name would you ruin perfectly good cheese with battery acid?” Brain snapped. He immediately dunked his muzzle into a thimble of water. 

“Batteries aren’t a pizza topping,” Pinky said. Did batteries look like pineapples on New Selene? “And pineapple pizza tastes delicious!” 

Brain scowled as he shoved the paper plate with his barely touched pineapple pizza slice towards Pinky, then grabbed a new plate and loaded it with two slices of pepperoni. 

“I’m outlawing that vile piece of filth you call food as soon as I rule the world,” Brain declared. 

“You can’t do that!” Pinky cried. What was next? Declaring pumpkin spice illegal? He would never support such an awful law! “That’s...that’s just unconstitutional! A breach of power! I won’t stand for it, Brain!” 

Then he realized he was standing up to grab the pineapple pizza slice, so he promptly sat down and chomped on pineapple, tomato sauce, and bread to prove his point. 

Brain wrinkled his nose, but before he could reply, the TV panned to show a beautiful, gray-maned white horse prancing in circles around her jockey, nearly tying him up in her reins. 

“That’s her! That’s Pharfignewton!” Pinky yelled, spewing tomato sauce from his mouth. “Hi, Fig! It’s me, Pinky!” 

Pinky quickly set his pizza down and slipped the hat on, sitting underneath the brim while the rest of the hat was propped against the counter. He hoped Pharfignewton could see the messages he’d written. 

“The cameras aren’t two-way, Pinky,” Brain said, but Pharfignewton whinnied happily, so Pinky knew she could hear him from thousands of miles away! 

She wore a beautiful pink cloth over her back with the number fifteen emblazoned in white, with a brown saddle on top. She tossed her head back and whinnied, her reins quivering in the sunlight. Her jockey slipped a pink mask over her face, and when she turned to look at the camera, her gorgeous blue eyes stood out even more. 

“You have quite the unusual horse here, Mr. Gardner,” the reporter said to Pharfignewton’s owner, who Pinky recognized by his bushy beard. “Not much of a looker, nor was she sired from any famous line of racehorses. And only one fellow’s bet on her at all.” 

Pinky frowned. Not much of a looker? That reporter’s obviously never seen Pharfignewton with the wind flowing through her mane, or the joyful neighs whenever she galloped around a field, or how she practically glowed whenever she ran. 

Mr. Gardner leveled a glare at the reporter, who withered from the intense look. “Pharfignewton may have a different build from her fellow racehorses, but she’s a hundred times more passionate about racing than anyone else. It’s true that neither of her parents have competed on the national level, but she’s inherited her mother’s spirit and her father’s diligence, a mixture of traits which will suit her well today.” 

“Yes...I’m sure it will,” the reporter muttered. His eyes darted to a chestnut horse with a yellow cloth draped over his back. “Oh, would you look at the time? I don’t believe I’ve gotten a chance to talk with Mayoneighaise’s team yet!” 

He scurried off, the cameraman trailing behind him. 

A board flashed onscreen, showing the horses’ names and numbers before cutting to commercial. 

“Mr. Legs? Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse? Is this entire competition just an excuse to saddle these poor creatures with horrific names?” Brain asked over the noise of a car commercial. 

“You can’t saddle a name. You saddle horses, Brain,” Pinky said. Brain could be so confused sometimes. 

“And they barely gave Pharfignewton the time of day,” Brain added. “But they dedicated a full fifteen minutes to Arabian Night’s training sessions.” 

Pinky shrugged. “Well, Arabian Night worked really hard. He deserved that time. And so does Maximus and Maverick and Black Beauty and Rainbow Dash and-” 

“It’s blatant favoritism,” Brain cut in. 

The commercial break ended, and the broadcast showed a female reporter approaching an enormous, muscular black stallion with a comically small jockey leading him by the reins. He bore a royal purple cloak with number one written in a fancy golden script on his back. The horse was so dark that Pinky could barely see his eyes or mouth. 

“And here we have the clear fan-favorite, Daddy’s Little Angel,” the reporter declared as she carefully approached the horse, who huffed when she got too close to his muzzle. She pulled back, keeping her microphone close to her body. “An excellent track record locally and regionally, highest odds tonight, and a descendant of the famous Triple Crown winner Secretariat. He sure has a lot going for him, don’t you think?” 

Daddy’s Little Angel was stoic and handsome, and as his owner and trainer listed off his various accomplishments, Pinky crossed his fingers and toes for good luck. Pharfignewton had a whole lot of competition. Sure, she was the fastest racehorse around these parts, but in the Derby she was a small goldfish in a large aquarium full of other fish. 

“Zort! Nope, can’t think like that!” Pinky said, thumping his head with his fist. He didn’t want to have doubts about her talent! She was the best, the swiftest, and the fastest at eating apples and hay! There’s no way she could lose! 

“Quiet, Pinky. I’m trying to listen,” Brain said. His pink eyes gleamed with interest as a montage of Daddy’s Little Angel’s previous feats flashed across the screen. “I wouldn’t be opposed to owning a horse like that for ceremonial purposes.” 

“Parading around on Pharfignewton sounds lovely,” Pinky sighed dreamily. 

He imagined Pharfignewton in a beautiful golden outfit, bells on her reins, and prancing down the street to a cheering crowd while he rode on her back. And there were pretty parade floats and celebrities singing and giant balloons of all his favorite characters! 

He was broken out of his fantasy by the sound of a fanfare. 

“Attention, all riders and horses! Clear the track and proceed to your stalls! The race will commence shortly!” the announcer declared. 

The camera lingered on Daddy’s Little Angel for just a little longer before panning out for a wide shot of the horses and jockeys making their way to the starting point, the trainers leading the horses by the reins and securing them in the stalls. 

Fifteen horses dressed in colorful racing garb whinnied and bucked their hind legs in anticipation of the race. Daddy’s Little Angel was in the first stall, the one nearest to the fence. Next to him, a majestic, stout white horse named Maximus took the number two slot. Like Daddy’s Little Angel, he was poised, calm, and determined to win. 

Most of the other horses were far more impatient though. Rainbow Dash wouldn’t quit stomping in her stall, and Maverick gave her a warning nip when her tail flicked him one too many times. She didn’t like that at all, and both jockeys fought to get their horses under control. 

A cinnamon stallion named Spirit thrashed in his stall, nearly throwing his rider off multiple times while two other people tried to calm him down. 

Then they finally showed Pharfignewton. She was in the stall closest to the stands, and while she was penned securely, the workers were all focused on the skittish racehorses. 

Pharfignewton flashed a horsey smile to the audience, then lowered her head in anticipation for the race to begin. 

Pinky’s fingers, toes, and tail were all crossed. She had to win! This was her dream ever since she was a little filly!

“And they’re off!” the announcer declared as the bell rang and the gates opened. All fifteen horses galloped out of the stalls, kicking up dirt as their hooves thundered against the ground. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus off to an early lead! Horsin’ Around’s pulling ahead of Tricky Mickey and...oh! Spirit’s bucked his jockey! That’s gonna cost everyone behind ‘em some time!” 

The names and number display at the bottom of the screen shifted around as horses pulled ahead or fell behind. 

Pinky’s muscles tensed as Pharfignewton swerved to avoid a riderless Spirit, though Achilles’ Heel was unlucky enough to be caught on a back ankle by a flailing hoof. Pharfignewton fell behind Mr. Legs and Mayoneighase for a split second before increasing her speed and passing them as they reached the first turn.

Pharfignewton was truly in her element! Like a happy, gusty wind spirit! 

“YOU CAN DO IT, FIG!” Pinky screamed at the top of his lungs, and there was an angry shushing noise, followed by a parmesan packet smacking the side of his head. “Thanks for the parmesan, Brain!” 

“Onto the second turn!” the announcer continued. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus neck and neck! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night fighting for third a mere two lengths away! Maverick trying to squeeze in but there’s no room! Hold onto your fancy hats, folks, this is shaping up to be a wild race!” 

Egad, he didn’t want to lose his fancy hat! Pinky clutched the edges with cheese-stained fingers. 

“Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus still leading the pack, but trailing them is Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night have fallen to fifth and sixth! Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse trying for a comeback while Maver-what’s this? Pharfignewton’s clawing her way up from tenth, ninth, eighth, seventh...now she’s passed Rainbow Dash! Ladies and gents, this could be the biggest recovery in the Derby’s history!” 

Oh, if only he remembered where he’d placed his cotton ball pom-poms! They’d come in super handy right now! 

Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee slowed down on the final turn, enabling Pharfignewton to easily overtake them for third place. Then she poured on the speed, closing in between Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus.

“NARF! GO, PHARFIGNEWTON!” Pinky screeched, his hat tumbling off as he leapt to his feet. If he screamed loud enough, Pharfignewton could hear him all the way in Kentucky! And the power of friendship always worked for last-minute wins! His cartoons were never wrong! 

“It’s a straight shot to the finish! Maximus falls back by half a length! Ladies and gents, could this be the greatest upset in horse racing history? It’s Pharfignewton! No, Daddy’s Little Angel pulls ahead! Now Pharfignewton! Daddy’s Little Angel!” 

Brain was quiet, but from the twitch of his pointed ears and the way he leaned forward, Pinky knew he was just as invested in the race. 

The camera centered on the finish line, but Pinky couldn’t tell who crossed first. Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel galloped offscreen just as the rest of the pack, led by Maximus, finished after them. 

“WHAT’S THIS? PHARFIGNEWTON AND DADDY’S LITTLE ANGEL HAVE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AT THE SAME TIME! TURNING THE FOOTAGE OVER FOR REVIEW SO WE CAN DECLARE THE WINNER!”

Pinky quickly found that crossing his toes while standing wasn’t the best idea. He fell flat on his face, but quickly pushed himself up on his elbows as the Derby logo flashed by and replayed the last few seconds of the race in slow motion. 

Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel’s legs were just one giant blur next to the finish line, but the reel paused on a shot of Pharfignewton’s flaring nostril crossing the line before Daddy’s Little Angel’s front hooves touched it. 

Pinky sucked in his breath. 

“PHARFIGNEWTON HAS BEEN DECLARED THE WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR VICTORY OVER THE 141ST KENTUCKY DERBY!” 

“She did it! She did it! Lo hicimos, she did it!” Pinky jumped for joy, his heart soaring in excitement for Pharfignewton. She was three years old and she’d accomplished so much! He was super duper extra proud of her! 

Brain rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, it seems all your supportive efforts have paid off.” 

Pinky grinned and tore off a cardboard flap of the pizza box, dumped parmesan cheese all over it, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Nothing tasted better than a victory pizza box with parmesan! 

“Want some?” Pinky offered a second flap to Brain. “It’s delicious!” 

Brain made a gagging noise. “That can’t possibly be good for your digestive system, Pinky.” 

Oh well. More for him then! 

Pharfignewton’s back was draped with beautiful roses, her team of humans all rushing up and hugging her as journalists bombarded them all with questions and photographers snapped photo after photo of her horsey smile. 

Daddy’s Little Angel trotted up to her with a flower crown in his mouth and dropped it onto her head, then drummed the ground steadily with a front hoof in his version of applause. All the other horses followed his lead. Even Spirit and Achilles’ Heel, who were being restrained by a team of trainers, gave their approval. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, tossing back her head and showing off the beautiful crown. 

She really was the best. Pinky clutched his chest, that warm gooshy feeling of love spreading throughout his body. 

He couldn’t contain it much longer, and he picked up Brain to let it all out, and he danced around in joy with a squirming Brain in his arms. 

“Pinky, I understand that this outcome is most favorable, but I demand that you cease this at once!” Brain complained. 

But Pinky barely heard him. He was more interested in what Mr. Gardner had to say. 

“Pharfignewton did an amazing job and we’re very proud of her,” Mr. Gardner said as he fed Pharfignewton an apple, which she gladly inhaled. “Running’s in her blood, and I’m sure she’s made her parents very proud in equine heaven. She’s definitely gonna take the Preakness and Belmont by storm.” 

“You think she’s capable of gaining Triple Crown status?” the reporter asked. 

Pharfignewton neighed loudly in her direction, messing up the reporter’s hair. 

As the reporter struggled to fix it, Mr. Gardner smiled. “I think she made it clear that she takes what she wants.” 

Two more races for the Triple Crown. Right. 

Pinky stopped dancing, an odd but featherlight weight in his arms. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Pharfignewton had to win the Preakness and Belmont for her dream to come true. 

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it. She was a swift runner and the best racehorse in the world. But she would be gone for several months. All the way on the other side of the country. 

And he wanted her to achieve her dream so bad. To rank up there with the great racehorses of old. 

“Pinky?” a voice choked. 

He was accidentally squishing one of Brain’s antennae. Oops. 

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky quickly said, putting his friend down. 

Instead of stepping away like Pinky expected, Brain remained where he was. Brain was too good at forming unreadable expressions. His pretty pink eyes seemed concerned though. 

“This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it?” Brain asked. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” 

Was that Selenian speak for happy? 

Yeah, he was supposed to be happy. Pharfignewton won. He was really happy for her. He didn’t want Pharfignewton to think he was a bad friend because he was sad about not seeing her for a while. 

“Of course I’m happy for her,” Pinky said. But it was flimsy even to his own mousey ears. 

Brain didn’t seem convinced either. One hand awkwardly hovered in the space between them. 

A little touch would be nice, and he held super still so Brain wouldn’t get spooked. But a tapping at the window broke Brain’s trance, and upon the sight of a hovering black camera with the Selenian logo on its side, he quickly pulled away. 

“Correspondence from Snowball,” Brain said. His ears flattened briefly before returning to their normal position. Maybe he regretted breaking their closeness too. “I’m taking this.” 

He wiped his fingers on a wet cloth before unlatching the window. The camera darted in once the window was open, its tripod claws dropping an unmarked envelope into Brain’s hands before flying off into the brilliant evening sky. 

Well, it could’ve had pizza if it stayed just a little longer. 

Pinky moved behind Brain as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the note inside, which was written in a neat script. 

Pickup at seven pm tomorrow. Don’t be late. 

-Snowball

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Brain sighed. “I’ll make sure we have everything required for tomorrow night, Pinky.” 

He didn’t wait for a reply. He only disappeared into a hidden drawer where all their belongings were stored. 

The masquerade ball was important. He shouldn’t keep Brain from making sure they saved the invitation so they could get in. 

And it would be nice to wear that beautiful dress Sharon picked out. 

But there was an ache in his chest. One that gnawed at his heart, and he didn’t want that icky feeling gnawing at his heart. Pinky sat in front of the TV and focused on Pharfignewton’s happiness instead. He pushed away the pizza, the box tasting like cardboard on his tongue. 

If she was happy, he was happy. And wasn’t that all he needed?

End AN: So as a little treat I snuck some fictional horse names in here. I mean, obviously you know Pharfignewton as Pinky’s equine girlfriend. Daddy’s Little Angel is the name of the horse Brain rode in the OG Animaniacs episode Jockey for Position.

Grand Chawhee’s name is a reference to All Dogs Go to Heaven. Tricky Mickey comes from the 1978 movie Casey’s Shadow, which I caught my family watching a few weeks ago and I just decided to borrow a name from the movie.

Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony, Maximus from Tangled, Black Beauty from the book of the same name, Spirit from the Dreamworks movie, and Achilles’ Heel is a reference to Phoebus’ horse in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Mr. Legs’ name provided by Boxy. Thank you, Boxy. Snuck in Pinky actually eating a pizza box for ya lol.

Final placements for the Derby are:

1. Pharfignewton 2. Daddy’s Little Angel 3. Maximus 4. Grand Chawhee 5. Black Beauty 6. Rainbow Dash 7. Arabian Night 8. Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse 9. Mr. Legs 10. Maverick 11. Horsin’ Around 12. Tricky Mickey 13. Mayoneighase 14. Achilles’ Heel (never finished) 15. Spirit (never finished)

Next chapter will finally have the Masquerade Ball and boy do I have plans. It’ll definitely be longer than this one. But this chapter at least wraps up the Derby subplot.

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter eleven

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in or removed, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so… i’m sorry fo the grammar errors. I also installed recently Grammary, so… hope its worth it.

This chapter contains some sensitive topics about tragedies and sex insinuations, I really didn't want to write it down with details both out of respect. I mean, personally, I didn't want to explain what's "under" in a fanfic, but if you do have doubts or curiosity, ask away in chat, especially if you are starting hormones, there is a lot for you to know about down there because it definitely changes something. Also, this other topic might touch a nerve and I really didn't do it without respect to the victims, so I'm sorry if it feels like that.

Previously

----

Staten Island it’s the third-largest borough in New York, but it is the least populated. The northern part of the island is the most urbanized, with some areas of somewhat decayed housing blocks that didn’t attract attention at all. It was… ok? quiet? She wasn’t sure exactly what to say about that place, but what was another thing she wasn’t sure about? Well...

“Are you not going to tell me what are we doing?” Poppy asked once again, feeling irritated as they both walked through the breeze but warm streets. At first, she thought they were taking the bus but Beck asked something to a random guy and started walking for a really, really long time, what was all this about? Beck looked tense, kind of nervous, and that alone made her feel strange, unnerved. "Are you alright?" Poppy asked again, but this time she sounded worried.

"Yeah, I'm just…" They exhaled in an attempt to draw their nerves away from themself. "I'm pretty nervous. I've never done this before." Beck chuckled.

"Do what?" Poppy frowned, curiosity floating in her mind strongly, to be honest, she had never seen them so tense before, even though they were trying to look calm. Beck smirked and took her by the hand.

"Come on, I have to show you something."

"Is it too far?"

"Are you already tired?" Beck replied, mocking her with that sassy smile of theirs.

"Me? Absolutely no." She said, raising an eyebrow. "I could literally go for miles."

"I'll have to prove that myself." Beck winked and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a dimwit."

"Yeah" they shrugged. "I'm cute, though.”

“Barely.” She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile but failing in the process so Beck laughed at it. Suddenly an unexpected drop felt swiftly in her nose, making her look up to the sky where a big, grey cloud was still above their heads. Soon, she felt raindrops in her hair, her clothes, her shoes!

“Oh, shoot. This is not good…” Beck said while they both walked faster, reaching out for cover in a shop awning.

“You think? These Jimmy choo are not even in the market yet!”

“Well, we don’t want them to be ruined, don’t we?."

"Of course not! What kind of dumb ques—"

Poppy didn't get to end the sentence, Beck took her by the wrist and started running full speed and nonstop. "Beck!" She screamed, the rain pouring down her body while that asshole laughed like a devilish kid. "Beck Hughes, let go of me this instant!!"

"We're almost there!" She heard them saying without turning to see her.

"Where are you taking me?!"

Beck slowed down little by little until they both stopped in front of a tiny, old, yellow house with barely two floors. Beck took the keys out of their pockets and opened the door, allowing Poppy to get inside the dark and quiet place.

“So… here we are.” Beck spoked turning on the lights.

The place that received them was the living room, but it was not an ordinary living room, it had neon lights currently exposing a purple color, a keyboard piano, a couple of guitars, and an old-fashioned mended couch with a lot of patches over black leather that actually looked really well together. The walls were exhibiting posters, framed cool landscape black and white photographs, and a Youtube silver plaque. She recognized the place right away.

“Wait… this is the place where you record your music.” She asked. Poppy watched Beck’s videos a lot recently at first the blonde was searching for information, then, to find a flaw to criticize with Chloe, but sooner rather than later Poppy found out… Beck was actually a really good musician, so sometimes when she was completely sure she was alone she’d listen to their songs while doing cardio or homework or whatever she was doing. “I was wondering where you found the location.”

“Yes… but also no. I mean, I do the videos here, but I have an audio booth upstairs. It’s actually a quiet neighborhood so it came in handy.” Beck took off their jacket, reaching out their hand to ask for Poppy’s. They both were wet, but not a lot, her shoes survived perfectly because they entered the house before a loud thunder sounded, followed by a deluge. “Damn, we do really dodge a bullet out there.”

“Yeah.” Poppy said, hugging herself. Without her coat, she felt a little cold. “Do you own this place?”

"No, this is my uncle’s." Beck whispered with reverence and a sad smile on their face. "My dad's little brother. He passed away."

"I— I'm sorry, Beck…" she managed to say, clueless about what exactly would someone do in this kind of situation.

"I didn't remember much about him, but my mom says he used to make these guitars out of plastic bottles as gifts for me to play them. She said I would go to the kitchen and play one for her to hear. She also said the sound was awful and she begged him to stop making them." Beck's smile was soft, turning on the heating, proud even though they were chuckling a little, spreading the same smile to Poppy. " 'I'm telling you, this little pal has talent.' he would say."

"Sounds to me like he made it to annoy your mom instead." Poppy said jokingly.

"Totally, he was a prankster." Beck replied, the emotions coming out from their eyes were difficult to tell. "And was one of the few dudes back at Farmsville that didn't want to settle down. The black sheep in every family… and the reason why my parents didn't want me to be here." Beck clutched their jaw, walking away from there to the kitchen. Poppy followed them in silence, feeling like it was something very private for Beck, seeing that vulnerable side of them again, but not hiding this time. "He was murdered years ago here in New York in a shooting. In Farmsville shootings don’t happen, so… They said it was dangerous going out of the farm to the big cities. That he brought this on himself... Took this out of the wrong way." The anger in Beck's voice was palpable in the air.

"Seriously? How can they be so selfish?" Poppy asked, how can someone be so fucking self-centered and dumbass to take a tragedy and blame it on one family member? She thought these things happened exclusively around that bunch of tight-ass people inside her parents’ social circle, but not inside a family farm.

"Back at home is different from here. Is a small town where everyone knows each other. They love routine and hard work and the good customs and shit… So when anyone goes against it… well— it's not funny."

Something clicked inside Poppy's mind.

"But then… How are you here?" Beck smiled but it didn't reach out to their sad eyes.

"Because I almost got killed."

Shock. Poppy couldn't help but feel agitated, her heart pounding loud against her chest and that same protective feeling that almost made her stab Bennett crawled its way towards her own core.

"What?" Poppy babbled, froze. Beck shrugged, with a weird grin as if they didn't know where to start, they caressed their neck, searching for the better way to put the puzzle together. They reach out for Poppy's hand, and she took it right away intertwining her fingers with Beck's.

"Coffee?" They asked. "It seems we will be stuck in here for a while.”

"It sounds nice." The words abandoned her mouth so fast that she even surprised herself, another red alarm ringed inside her mind, but now was not the time, so she ignored it again. Beck smiled and turned on a little coffee maker, bringing two mugs in silence. They both sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch, Beck’s eyes were attentive at the black drink and the tension was still over their shoulders, she could see it so easily that Poppy wished for someone to take that weight out of Beck, so she took both cups and put them aside, sitting over Beck’s lap and intertwining her fingers with theirs, playing with them. Beck smiled a little and took a deep breath.

"I started to realize something was off inside of me when I was in high school. I mean, ‘till that day I was considered normal. I was the kind of child that played sports, climbed trees, and did hard work gladly. You know, average farm kid." Beck said, but even as they seemed to be calm, Poppy could feel the sweat in their palm, and a little shivering all over their body. "But I grow older and changes came, and puberty and—"

"Hey" Poppy stopped them from talking faster and faster. "You don't have to"

"I want to. " Beck interrupted, begging Poppy with their eyes. "I want you to know my past. I mean… if you want me to tell you, that is."

Poppy could have thought anything at that moment. She could have thought that she made it, that she had accomplished her very goal and knew she was about to have first-hand information to use against Farmsville, that she was spectacular for making it this far. She could have thought that now nobody would take her number one spot from her, or that she loved to have a new puppy to use in any way she wanted. But no.

All in what she could think about was Beck's heart opening up to her, trusting her for real this time. The connection intertwining both of them in a way that made her skin chill. Third alarm, but she muted it again.

"So? What are you waiting for? Go on." Poppy rolled her eyes, Beck had a goofy expression for a couple of seconds until Poppy smiled, squishing slightly their hands for reassurance. Beck's eyes glowed happily in which was the cutest gesture Poppy saw from someone that wasn't a dog in her entire life.

"I managed to handle myself a little for a while, but it definitely didn't last long. I was so afraid, I felt lost, and insecure. I didn’t know what was happening to me, why did I feel that way, trapped in my own skin... I stopped having friends because everyone could see how weird I was and nobody wanted to talk to me, except for this one girl: Bree Matthews."

Beck’s jaw tightened, their eyes wandering all over the place because of the nervousness.

“So, Bree and I started to hang out. Chill some time round. We were close, I mean, really, really close. She was the one who I told about my dysphoria first, and she was totally supportive. She helped me understand what I was going through, sometimes she would borrow her brother’s old clothes to give them to me and helped me pick my very first short haircut. Bree was my safe space in a town where I’d be mistreated just to use a bathroom. I kinda felt for her… so one night into the forest I kissed her. And~ it wasn’t a good idea.”

“What happened?”

“Well~ Daniel and his gang came into the picture and intimidated her, so she sold me as a pervert, a weirdo, among other… awful things. Can’t blame her, Daniel was a wrecked truck whenever he wanted so… yeah. My family found me eight hours after, all beat up from head to toes. I was unconscious and with an actually broken rib.” Beck tried to joke, but it was so bad at timing it actually made it worse for Poppy to hear. “I~ I almost die.” Beck sighed, as if with that they could put all that behind. “Anyway so she apologized to me through a phone call because she wanted to kiss me too but, you know, shit happens; I got better and now I’m in New York doing what I love so… Happy ending, right? It was funny, they didn’t let me use the bathroom but they all thought I was “male enough” to beat the crap out of me ever since.”

Poppy stopped playing with Beck’s hands, making them do the same. They told the end of the story so lightly as if they were talking about a T.V. show they just watched and not some really cruel harassment they went through for a long time. The strawberry blonde was a lot of things, bad things, but the things that beast did to Beck just because of their dysphoria? That was a whole new level that Poppy would never stoop into.

“How can you joke about things like that?”

“Well, I figured I had two ways to address the problem: Being insecure or making the most out of this. That’s why I do music. Yeah, my songs don’t talk about the transgender community directly, but I make sure everybody knows who am I. What I am. I write songs for people out there that feel just the same as I do. Not only transgender people, but the whole LGBTQ+ also needs representation! Folks having their back! And if I can reach at least one soul and show them that no matter how they were born, they can make it… Hell, I could die happily.”

The fire in their eyes, the passion radiating strongly from their body, from their words. It was impossible for Poppy to look away from Beck. Of course, Beck didn’t care about a spot in the T list, or and stupid award. Beck was more into their music, making their voice be heard. That was why they did claim to care less about competition, Beck was climbing their way to the top because of their conviction and resilience. It was curious how the more she learned about Beck, the more she felt drawn to them.

“You are so brave, do you know that?”

“And it only took me a delicate rib and trust issues.” Beck claimed proudly as if it was a bargain.

“Trust issues? Beck, you’re one of the most confident people l know!” They began to laugh, the blonde could feel their laughter below her because of the slight belly-shaking. “It’s irritating.”

“I am really amazing myself.” Poppy rolled her eyes at the flirty smirk Beck flashed towards her. “But I’m not insecure about myself… most of the time. I do have a hard time trusting in people. I mean, Daniel didn’t have a hold on me… Bree, on the other hand…” Beck shrugged. “But I do trust you, Poppy.”

Something inside the blonde felt off, those words accompanied by that good-natured smile made Poppy feel a bit guilty. Like, yeah, she was just trying to archive exactly that for her own benefit, it should feel like a win, right? But no.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, yet.” She said to herself. “For all we know, this is just some casual date.”

Maybe… give up? Maybe actually try and date Beck?

What could possibly go wrong?

“I trust you too, Beck.” She replied without a doubt. So she tossed her golden locks over one shoulder, leaning down to kiss Beck’s lips. She soon felt them kissing her back, sweetly, calmly at first but then it was obvious they both needed more than that. Poppy let go of Beck’s hands to place hers in their Beck, while they grabbed her by the waist. The heat soon took over her body, especially after they responded to it by biting Poppy’s bottom lip, making her moan. Poppy knew right away there was a change in Beck’s behavior, they were more confident, more secure, they actually felt ready and she had to say, that was a very welcome and pleasing development. But they were shaking still.

“What 's wrong? You don’t want to—?”

“No. No, it 's not it. It 's just…” Beck took a deep breath avoiding Poppy's gaze for a second before looking at her pleading while keeping hold on her. “I don’t want you to see me differently when you look at what I have beneath the clothes.” They confessed.

“I won’t. I promise.” She said, caressing the hair in the back of their nape. “This is just you, with all letters.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood and she succeeded. Beck grinned from ear to ear, relieved, kissing her passionately, hungry and the Poppy did the same, tasting their tongue with hers. The caresses between the two became more intense and she couldn’t stand the fever growing anymore, so she took the edges of their favorite black t-shirt and pulled up, revealing Beck torso for the very first time.

She understood right away what Beck meant. Cutting through their chest there it was a thin, darker line, a scar that was slowly healing, but nevertheless it was there easy to pinpoint. It was strange, she had seen a lot of those mastectomy scars on google but Beck chest looked different somehow, strong, gym crafted, and the scar actually was interesting, sexy even.

“I don’t know what you were so scared of, Hughes. Hell, you’re hot as fuck, I hate you.”

Beck chukled, their confidence coming back.

“Yeah, well… There is not an ugly part on this body afterall.” They grinned.

“I’m going to erase that obnoxious smirk of yours.”

“You will?” Beck grabbed a hold on Poppy’s hair and pulled slightly but demanding backwards, exposing her neck to them to kiss and lick, causing a shaking sigh that turned the heat even higher for both. “Show me then.” They whispered over her skin, their breath brushing bristling her body.

Poppy pushed them down on the couch, kissing them hardly. This was war now, and she would definitely win.

----

Next

[keeptheotherone]

Mecation: Day 1 

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages. 

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life. 

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college. 

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to.  Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with. 

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential! 

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day. 

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease. 

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian. 

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :) 

[therewrites]

We Are Who We Are Overall Thoughts *spoilers*

This review will be discussing briefly some of the episodes so far, so SPOILERS

So I started watching the HBO original series, We Are Who We Are, and I am conflicted. When I initially watched it, the dialogue made it hard for me to enjoy it so I stopped. Then after a couple of weeks after its airing, I thought, what the hell? And this time, I was pleasantly surprised. I always maintain the belief that pilot episodes are either boring, messy, or just bad so I try to push past it in order to get to the good shit. The pilot for We Are Who We Are was...I’m not sure how to explain...different? It certainly wasn’t bad and it made an impression on me, but this show as a whole is hard to limit by just a few words. It’s really something that you should watch and experience yourself.

It was only after the first 3 episodes that I began to understand the tone and mood that Luca Guadagnino was trying to convey. A lot of the time, the dialogue is abrupt and choppy and can make no sense. It can be frustrating, especially when you have two characters that aren’t communicating effectively. But I think that was the point. Guadagnino is a very realistic director, he captures the most realistic elements in a film. A lot of the conversations between characters is meant to emulate real life. Like, what the hell do you say when a conversation becomes awkward? Well, nothing sometimes.

While Guadagnino’s typical cinematography may suggest whimsy, in WAWWA’s case the small structured and synthetic model of the military base is juxtaposed to the very concrete characters. When I started to view the show less as simply a televised airing of fictional characters and problems, and instead looked at them as people, I began to really enjoy it. 

Take the main character of Fraser, played by Jack Dylan Grazer. Fraser is meant to be seen as an extremely complex and troubled kid, but the difference between him and every other teen in a coming-of-age drama is that he isn’t polished. His drinking and drug habit isn’t framed as romantic or beautiful, in fact most of the time it’s portrayed as his weakness of sorts. In the first episode, Fraser has one of his mothers drive him home after getting pretty wasted and Luca graces us with a direct shot of him throwing up. And before that, Fraser is stumbling on a bridge when he drunkenly falls and cuts his face. Everything the character does is messy, uncoordinated, yet extremely real and relatable. Hell, in one shot you can clearly see him do a Naruto run!

Caitlin/Harper is a character that I enjoyed watching, as well. Jordan Seamon did a fantastic job and I really connected with their character. Initially we see Caitlin as this mysterious girl, and in the pilot we are meant to assume that their relationship with Fraser is supposed to develop into a romantic one. This is not the case as it seems that Caitlin is trying to come to terms with who they are. The biggest shift in Caitlin’s character isn’t their friendship with Fraser but probably when they get their period. 

This was a moment that even I related to, even though I am cis when I first got my period I didn’t tell my mom until the day after. The possible confusion and shift in their reality that Caitlin felt was only heightened with the conflict of their boyfriend wanting to be more physically intimate, and Fraser’s eventual discover of Harper. I would have like to see exactly why Fraser seemed drawn to Caitlin. I’m assuming viewers were supposed to think that Fraser is attracted to her, or something. But both Caitlin/Harper and Fraser are queer coded and their respective sexualities are alluded to not being straight. It would’ve made their standing as platonic friends more clear if this had been established stronger. 

I definitely think the writer could have devoted more time to giving certain characters proper conversations. It would’ve given more development to certain characters and better context for things. However even without that, there is a lot that the audience is showed that can’t be told through dialogue. The power struggle between Sarah and Richard being one. So far, there hasn’t been any explanation as to why they have a such a volatile relationship other than Richard being a homophobe. 

Through deeper inspection, I was able to interpret it as: Richard may heavily resent the fact the Sarah was promoted to Colonel and not him. It is never made clear who has the better credentials, Sarah or Richard, but assuming that she was the one promoted it is a safe guess. This may be highlighted by the fact that Sarah is a women, and also gay. Even before episode 7, it was clear that Richard did not respect her authority. I also interpreted it as Richard being upset that and openly gay women was promoted instead of him, a black man. 

Of course this is just based on my own personal knowledge of how the U.S. military can be towards people of color and LGBTQ+. Regardless, the competitive tension between two parents is palpable without needing dialogue to explain.  

When conflict happens, I can kind of figure out which characters are going to react and which one’s will stay silent. I think the show is trying to accomplish a drastically realistic and raw series. It took me while to adjust to it, but by maybe the 2nd or 3rd episode, it starts to grow on you. Despite not liking a good majority of the characters, I was very surprised by how invested I was in them. 

Like, Danny is my least favorite character because he displays very abusive and explosive tendencies, and doesn’t seem to care about the world around him. However, getting glimpses into his character and seeing how Richard ignores him for Caitlin/Harper, his suicidal thoughts, and how he is trying to reclaim his cultural and religious background makes me empathize with him. 

Even though I hate his character, I can see that he is struggling. I appreciate the way that this show freely shows dark skinned black boys dealing with mental health issues, and personal development. Rarely are issues like suicide talked about in the black community, so seeing Danny talk about it and Craig offering(admittedly poor)comfort was touching. This is a general vibe that I get from nearly all the characters on WAWWA. I also appreciated the how Danny is actively trying to convert to Islam. In shows, rarely is Islam ever portrayed in a positive manner. Especially when female characters are shown to be struggling with their religion, Islam is shown as this barrier that prevents them from living life. Hopefully it goes without saying that the “taking off the hijab” as a way to show that a female character is “liberated” is overplayed and does not offer any respect to the countless Muslim women who choose to wear hijabs. 

Now I think the pacing of some of the storylines could have been handled a bit more gracefully. Like how we jump from Fraser and Harper being kind of enemies(not really but you know what I mean), to just them hanging out in Richard’s boat was jarring. I would have at least liked to see the scene of them talking on the rocks at the beach. It would’ve given more insight on Caitlin/Harper’s character and also on Fraser too. Also how quickly Maggie and Lu(Jennifer but I love the name Lubaba, it’s my aunt’s name)jump into a physical affair. I just would have liked to see a build up of tension between all these characters but I don’t think this entirely ruins the plot. 

I was very iffy when I learned that the show would be focusing on trans identity and gender and sexuality, but not actually hire a trans male actor. I was afraid that the show would completely botch the experiences of being transgender, and honestly I don’t have the authority to speak on whether or not this affects the quality of the show. I am cisgender, and only can empathize with this particular situation as much as I can. But I would like to hear to the opinion of someone who is trans and elaborate on the ways that they did/didn’t like Jordan Kristine Seamón’s portrayal. 

Now at the time I’m writing this, the season finale has yet to come out. But I’d also like to briefly discuss the most recent episode and how it developed Jonathan and Fraser’s relationship. I was VERY worried that Guadagnino was going to take their relationship in the direction of inappropriate. While nearly all the depictions of Jonathan and his actions have been trough Fraser’s pov, it didn’t stop me from side-eyeing some of the interactions they shared. Of course after it was mentioned that Jonathan was supposed to be in his late 20s, nearing 30 I was immediately uncomfortable with the very flirty behavior he exhibited. 

So when the scene of Fraser going up to his apartment after Craig’s death, I was very on edge. If Guadagnino had gone the extra mile to show an even larger age gap then I would’ve been pissed. While I enjoyed Call Me By Your Name, the implication that sexual relationships between barely legal teenagers and adults well into their 20s was sensual is something that I see as very weird now that I’m older. So seeing Jonathan as the object of Fraser’s affections made me extremely warry. 

And honestly, I’m still surprised that the scene even happened in its entirety. I’m sure that Jack was not in any danger of being exploited but there were definitely points while watching I thought, what the fuck is going on? I was very worried that it would escalate, but I was happy to see that Fraser was the one who stopped it from going further.  It made sense to me that this scene took so many liberties to be as graphic as possible without being too graphic, in order to show why a situation like that would be scary and confusing for Fraser. It wasn’t lost to me that Marta and Jonathan were the one’s initiating all the sexual advances. They held all the power in that scenario, even more so because Fraser is younger and has the tendencies to not make the best decisions. Though it seemed that Fraser was trying, he knew that the situation was fucked up.

I’d like to hear what JDG felt and thought doing this scene. What was his character’s thought process?

I’ve seen a lot of people compare the show heavily to CMBYN, which is fine. Besides certain cinematic parallels that people pointed out, I don’t see the clear comparison. CMBYN is more of a love story and it’s more polished than WAWWA. Now when I say tat, I don’t mean it as a negative. Rather, We Are Who We is obviously more devoted to realism and its characters. I appreciate the inclusion of more LGBTQ+ people and black main characters with development, something that CMBYN lacked. And for some people who didn’t like the show based solely on the fact that it wasn’t a CMBYN tv show, I suggest just going into it with no expectations and enjoy the mess. 

And I’d also like to take a moment to commend Jack Dylan Grazer for his job in We Are Who We Are. All of the main cast are amazing actors and actresses and did a really good job bringing their characters to life. Though, I had always associated JDG with supporting roles that, while highlighted his acting talent, only put him in a one-dimensional light. As good as It 2017 was, JDG’s role of Eddie is only meant to be seen as a comic relief. In WAWWA, I was able to forget that he was teen actor, Jack Dylan Grazer, and really see him as Fraser. It’s worth mentioning that in a GQ interview, Grazer also mentioned how this role made him reevaluate is approach to acting. 

And after reading an interview he did with a Interview Germany, with him saying he spent months in Italy reading the script and trying to perfectly craft this character, I was immensely impressed. I hope that he knows that all his hard work payed off and made a really dynamic and interesting character. I really hope that in the future JDG continues with more mature or multi-dimensional roles because he displayed that he has the talent to do so. Him being so young makes me optimistic in knowing that he is definitely going places in his career. I also hope that there will be a season 2 of WAWWA because despite having hour long episodes, the show still felt way too short. There is a lot about Fraser’s character, and all the others’ characters, that I want more information and analysis on.

[parkjess]

hello! can i request an astro individual scenario where they try confessing to the reader?

Thank you for requesting! 🥰

Myungjun:

After finishing with his musical schedule, Myungjun, your friend you were there to support every day of his rehearsals, took you to a relaxing day. Sunday morning, sun’s up, he made some sandwiches and drinks for the whole day, taking you around the beautiful places in town, where there is a view almost as pretty as him.

You catch up with one another’s schedule and hard times you had through the past few weeks. “You know, I thought about you a lot during practice.” He says, swinging the basket he was holding and then taking a look at you. You do the same, yet surprised. -“You did?” Asking and taking a seat on a bench, full of spring flowers that fell off the tree behind.

“Yeah. You helped me a lot in my mind, so thank you.” He chuckles, taking the seat near you, “I have been thinking about it a lot now,” he’s slightly getting nervous. You look up at him, locking eyes. -“What is it? You can tell me anything.” “I like you y/n. You are always there for me when I need you, and even when I don’t ask for it, you always know when to find me. I like you a lot.” Your heart added extra beat when he said that sentence you needed to hear so badly, since you are going through hard time now, and didn’t even tell him about it.

-“I like you too Myungjun.”

Jinwoo:

Sanha called you last night to invite you to jinwoo’s birthday party that will take place next week in the dorms, and ofcourse you agreed and even helped making the decorations, the cake and little gift bags for everyone.

The whole week you were walking around the mall and town with the boys, every day with someone else. You decided to buy Jinwoo several birthday gifts since you’re never sure if he’s gonna like the last one you bought, and every each of them helped with their own style.

Finally March 14 arrived, you have planned to spend the whole day with Jinwoo and come back to the dorms exactly at midnight, when it’s the 15 already. At first he didn’t want to finish the bowling game you were playing around 11pm so you faked a stomachache, and as you thought, he rushed to take you back to the dorm as soon as possible. It’s 12:02am, you missed the exact midnight because he was stubborn to take you to your place. “Jinwoo...” you whisper when you arrive at the dorms’ entrance, -“Y/n are you okay?” He asks when he notices you are completely fine suddenly, so you place your hand quickly on the door handle as a sign for the boys, and open it. “Happy birthday!” Jinwoo’s five best friends and you, his secret crush that only sanha knows about, shout, scaring the birthday kid. -“oh my god you tricked me!” Jinwoo shout at you with a smile, pointing at your stomach, you can see how he cared about you being in pain. “She planned this all, hyung!” Sanha says happily as you hit his arm playfully, turning red from the credit he gave you. “NO, SANHA, we planned this all, happy birthday Park Jinwoo.” You say and stretch your arm to get your gifts for him, handing 5 different full bags to him.

-“I... I have nothing to say... y/n, you’re amazing, you all are, guys.” Jinwoo stutters, “Just say you love her already hyung.” All of the sudden Sanha says, making all of you turn to him as he realized what he just said, Jinwoo slaps his own forehead with his palm. -“OH MY GOD.” Minhyuk interrupts quietly. “Yes, oh my god, SANHA WHAT THE HELL!” You yell at the younger boy, realizing he was speaking the truth since Jinwoo didn’t deny anything.

“What? You’ll thank me later hyung.” Sanha says nonchalantly and shoves a spoon full of cake into his mouth.

After you all ate cake and Jinwoo called you to his room, you didn’t feel uncomfortable talking to him, not even now, but you felt like your heart is going to leave your rib cage soon. “First of all, I’m so thankful for you making all of... this. You made me the happiest man on earth, you always do. Second, I love you.” He takes your hand once he says he confesses. “Third, Sanha is a dumbass I’m grateful for, because he made me finally say this. I’m sick of hiding my feelings for you, I want you to know it finally. I love you y/n.” Your heart race could be heard from miles away, -“I love you too Jinwoo.” You say back and kiss him on the lips, it tastes like sweet vanilla frosting. -“He was right, you are going to thank him later.” You finally say and kiss him once again, missing the taste of cake on your own lips.

Dongmin:

“Y/n! Finally, I’ve been calling you the whole morning, anyways, we are going to the beach today, wanna join us?” Moonbin, one of your friends calls you when you wake up, peeking at your phone while he’s talking, 12 missed calls from him and Minhyuk. -“uhm, yeah sure? I just woke up so I’ll be there in like two hours.” You reply with still sleepy, crispy voice. “Alright! See you then.” He says and hangs up.

Arriving at the beach, it’s a sunny day in the middle of February, the cold breeze helps your hair tangle itself, and the lip gloss you applied doesn’t make the situation better.

“Hey! Lee dongmin!” You shout when you see the handsome guy sits on a beach towel, covered with his big coat. the others are missing in your eye sight. -“Y/n hii,” Dongmin looks up at you, offering you a seat near him.

“Thanks, are you cold?” You ask him while he’s deep in your eyes, smiling his charming smile that makes your heart flutter. -“Ah no it’s okay.” You say nothing but hand him a hot pack, he thanks you and brings it closer to his neck. “So... where is everyone?” Feeling kinda awkward, you decide to ask something to break the silence. Dongmin was your crush for 3 years, yet not long ago you decided to control these feelings since you don’t want to ruin your friendship, and still, your stomach fills with butterflies every time you hear his voice or look at him.

-“There they are.” He points behind you with his head since his hands are busy holding the hot packs. “You’re here!” Sanha shouts and quickly bends over to hug you. The others just greet you with excitement.

“Guys, why don’t you go buy something to eat?” Dongmin suddenly asks, you look at him surprised since they just came from somewhere. Jinwoo was the only one who got the sign and pulled the boys out of there.

“Y/n, I have something to tell you.” Dongmin softly says, stretching his arms to hold your hand. “I have tried to deny it, but I’m afraid I can’t. You already know where this is going, right?” Dongmin likes your clever brain, in fact, that’s what made him fall for you in the first place.

But you tried to convince yourself that’s not what you’re thinking, only because you’re scared to be denied.

-“I’m not sure...”

“I like you y/n, a lot, and you probably don’t want to ruin this friendship but I don’t mind ruining it with something bigger than that.”

Wow, your whole body twitched at those words of his. -“I’m pretty much shocked now, because I’ve been feeling the same. I like you too Dongmin.”

Moonbin:

Your graduation party wasn’t like you expected it to be. The theme everyone chose was 80’ style, which was different from other proms you have seen.

“Moonbin, hi.” You say shyly when you get close to your friend, still refusing to believe these are the last days you see each other, and then every one goes on his own way.

He turns to you, wearing those shades that make you laugh at him. “Woah, dude chill with the coolness.” You giggle, sticking your thumbnail between your teeth. -“Well, you look wonderful too.” He laughs, grabbing the drink his friend just handed to him. “So... last day huh?” You sigh. -“Yeah,” he follows, taking a sip from what looks like non-alcoholic blue drink. -“Remember when we wished to finish school? Never knew it will be somehow sad like this...” “Yeah well, let’s not spend our last hours together like this upset.” You said, grabbing his hand to the “dance floor”.

All you have done is having fun with your classmates and friends, no getting drunk, no expensive suits and dresses, but good music and atmosphere. Moonbin was one of the last students who stayed there with you until after midnight, dancing till you can’t breathe no more from laughing so much. “Wow, that was a very happy ending, don’t you think so?” He turns his head to you as you pull skewers with marshmallows on it, hand one to him and hold it above the fire. -“I do, I still can’t believe we’re together for years, we went through everything, since 1st grade till now.”

“Y/n...” he whispers, realizing all of these things you just said. -“hmm?” You look at him, feeling too close. “I’m gonna regret it if I won’t say it right now,” he smiles a bit. “I love you.” Your eyes widen from his words, almost burning the marshmallows because you forgot them. -“I... Bin, I don’t know what to say.” You felt the same, but just couldn’t say those 3 words so easily. “Don’t say anything.” He shoves a marshmallow into his mouth and stands up, offering you his hand to do so too. -“Wait.” You stop him when he’s about to go. -“I love you too.” You immediately say and pull him closer for a kiss.

Minhyuk:

“Minhyuk, where are we going?”

Your friend grabbed your hand the moment he heard from Myungjun that you are feeling a bit down these days, not able to accomplish anything you want. -“It’ll be fun, I promise,” he stops near his new car, and says with a smile, -“Now get in the car.” He opens the car door for you and you enter, noticing the comfort pillows he has in the two front seats. “Are you kidnapping me?” You say sarcastically, pulling the seat belt while he get in the car from the other side. -“If I would, you wouldn’t know.” Minhyuk smirks his usual charming smirk and drives off the parking lot.

The ride wasn’t too long, it was full with both of your laughter, loud music and screaming because he almost bumped into a cat. -“Were here.” He takes off his seatbelt and says, walks out first to open your door again, like a real banal gentleman. “Starbucks? Oh come on, do you wanna tell me what’s going on? You never take me here, or anywhere alone.” You weren’t lying, he never hangs out with you alone but only with another mutual friend of yours, today he felt like he doesn’t want you to feel unwell so he decided to take you on a ‘friendly date’.

-“So you’re actually saying you want me to take you alone more often?” Here’s that smirk again, and he laughs it off. The place was very beautiful, spring atmosphere it is. He told you to sit near one of the tables with a pretty view while he’s ordering the drinks.

You sat there watching the view, glancing at you handsome friend from time to time, wondering why he buy you drinks all of the sudden, he’s the type to ask you to buy him a drink usually.

-“There you go, and... this.” He places your favorite pastry near the beverage, which makes him more suspicious. “Minhyuk, stop wasting your money on me. What is it with you today?” -“Just shut up and drink.” He laughs, gosh his smile made you forget everything you are going through. You take a bite from the sweet muffin (or whatever you like to eat) and thank him about it. “Okay but seriously now, why are you so good to me toda- I mean, you’re always good but today there’s something different.” Your friend rolls eyes at your stubbornness and sighs. -“Myungjun hyung told me you are having hard time.”

Not enough for you, still, he’s hiding something. He could tell you’re having a hard time several times this year, and yet, this has never happened before. When you both finished drinking and chitchatting about life, the usual conversations with Minhyuk, you went out to breathe some fresh air. There was a beautiful park (minhyuk hehehuhu) nearby so he walked you there without you to notice. -“Actually, I do have something to tell you, but this day was supposed to cheer you up, I don’t know what you are going through, but you know you can always talk to me, right?” He suddenly starts to walk slower, puts his hands into his denim jacket, he looks down on the leaves and then up at you. “Yes, ofcourse, but don’t worry about it. Ah, what was the thing you wanted to tell me?” You ask, locking eyes with him from time to time, it feels great to look him in the eyes like that, he’s shining. -“I’ll just say it like that, right away.” He lets you know first, -“I care about you, I like you, actually.” The way he said those words was like he planned this for a while now, but it came fluently from the bottom of his heart.

“I knew it!” You fist your hand, -“You did?” He asks in confusion. “Yeah, I mean no I didn’t but I hoped so.” His smile appears again, -“hoped... Does that mean you like me too?” His heart beats can be heard from where you were standing. “Well, you know me best, so I guess you know the answer.” You reply and take his hand in yours, intertwining fingers.

Sanha:

“Yoon sanha! Give me back my camera!” You shout while running after the 10 feet tall guy that every step he makes equals to 3 steps of you.

He runs so fast until he can’t no more and gives up, breathing heavily while holding onto his knees. -“Take your camera, it doesn’t worth your embarrassing pictures.” You grab it right after he says, searching for the pics he was taking of you while eating and talking with the others. “Oh my god Sanha you’re gonna pay for that.” You tell him while panting and looking at your own awkward moments. You didn’t like to see yourself while talking, kinda insecure about it, but he didn’t know it.

“Both of you stop and let’s go eat.” Dongmin appears behind the two of you, scaring you both since you didn’t expect him to be there.

-“Ah! Hyung!” Sanha screams as soon as he hears Dongmin’s slightly deep voice, following him to where you were sitting all together in the first place. “Open your mouth.” You held a fork with lightly burnt, hot, potato stuck on it, making its way to Sanha’s mouth. The others just looked at you shocked, and you didn’t get why. “What?” You ask, sticking the fork in another piece of potato, that’s his favorite thing to eat, especially on camping trips. -“You would make a great couple someday.” Jinwoo says and the rest of them agree. “What? Ew, no he’s my best friend.” You know Sanha is close to you so wouldn’t be offended by your words, even though he wanted you to be more than his bestie.

Time passed and all of them went to sleep, except for you and Sanha who stayed up late singing songs while he plays the guitar. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?” He suddenly asks, looks like he does care about that. -“Which part?”

“The one with the ‘Ew’, do you really mean it?” His voice lowers. -“What? No Sanha, ofcourse not. It’s just, you know what they are going to say if I’d said otherwise. Why does that bother you?” He grabs the Polaroid camera from earlier, handing it over to you. “What-“ he cuts you off. -“look at the third picture.” You take it and roll the gallery to the picture he meant, it was you; but a finger heart at the bottom of the picture. “Sanha, I don’t get-“. -“I like you y/n, more than a best friend. And I wish Jinwoo’s words could make a reality.” Wait... what? “Yoon sanha, are you kid- you’re speaking the truth.” You realize since you recognize his serious face. “I, actually, said what I said earlier... because I was starting to feel the same feelings for you, and I guess I was too scared...”

-“So, you like me back?”

“I guess- I do.”

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 2

First step…

Kristanna Modern AU

Rating: G

Word counting: 1833

Previous Chapter (AO3)

Summary: Kristoff takes Anna away off her studies – she´s a mess before exams…

Kristoff hastily pulled over to the road´s side.

Anna clung to his neck, nearly strangling him. He could hardly see the road. When he had stopped the engine, he turned and held the little mess in his arms.

Anna hung at his chest, sobbing, and laughing all the same. “Thank you, thank you.” She muttered, tangling her fingers in his hair, literally melting into his body.

“It´s okay, honey. You do deserve a good treat!” Kristoff nuzzled into her hair, pulling her tightly to him. She was such a precious pearl, and he hated the thought of her being in such a pressure of no reason for whatsoever.

Anna pulled a bit back and smiled up at him. “This is so awesome. I can´t believe you did this. You hate those places. Are you sure, you really want to launch into this fantasy world of fools?” She lowered her face, taking a deep breath, while a strange feeling spread in her abdomen. “You know,” she whispered, “it´s just a place of dreams and imagination. But that you would surprise me with this… I know it sounds stupid, but this means so much to me and makes me feel so… special…” The words trailed off and she just sank back into that strong chest.

“Hey princess.” Kristoff muttered back into her hair. “You´re most special, don´t you know that?”

Anna smiled and pulled on his shirt collar for affirmation. They would stay a bit longer like this, when Anna´s mobile startled them both, having them jolt out of that cosy position.

“Oh no. It´s Elsa.” Anna grimaced when she saw who was calling her. She took a deep breath and snitched her head to the side as to make herself relaxing, somehow.

“Hey there.” She tried to sound casually happy to have her sister on the phone. “What´s up?”

“Anna! Where are you?” Elsa´s demanded in a controlled but outraged tone.

“I´m with Kristoff. Why?”

“Why aren´t you at your home, studying?” Elsa sighed audibly. “I came to pick you up. How long will it take you to come here?”

“Why?... Oh no, don´t say it´s today… I thought it´s next weekend?” Anna turned pale and her heart sank into the lowest department.

“Yes! It is today and you better get your little head cleared and back home, now!” Elsa stated in a clear and not misunderstanding command. “Where are you? Tell Kristoff to bring you home, now.”

By now, Anna had turned the speakers on, so Kristoff could listen to the conversation. Elsa had noticed the change of the echoing sound and would address Kristoff now.

“Hey Kristoff. Listen. I´m sorry. Whatever you two were up to. Anna needs to get back to her flat immediately to get ready.”

“Hi there Elsa.” Kristoff greeted Anna´s sister formally, but kindly. “Just hang on, please, yes?” He turned to Anna, “what have you forgotten about… I mean, where were you supposed to go tonight?”

Anna was kind of panicking by now. Kristoff put a hand to her arm, trying to calm her down. She then tried to explain with a timid voice.

“It´s a dinner party at my grandfather´s house. He has invited some important people. A lawyer’s office, our family is collaborating with since decades, if not even centuries…. He wants me to meet them on a professional basis as to get a position at their office for the start. You know, like a start off into the famous world of “Rendelle” law business.

“Anna!” Elsa interrupted Anna´s explanation. “You can explain this to Kristoff on your way back. Please hurry and head back now. Kristoff, will you please take her home, now.”

There was a silence for a moment.

“Anna! Kristoff! Are you guys still there? Hello?”

Kristoff looked at Anna and increased his squeeze on her arm. “Anna! Whatever you want to do, it´s your decision and I will go the mile with you. Do you want this? Do you want to go to this dinner party? If yes, I turn the car and bring you back.”

Anna stared at him with big restless eyes. “I don´t know. I mean I know what I´m supposed to do. Bu I don´t know if I want this myself?”

“It´s your life, Anna!” Kristoff said, firmly, but kind and in his softest voice. “I actually wanted to talk to you over dinner, in a quieter situation. But now, you must decide. But, hey honey, whatever you decide, it´s okay for me. We can postpone this trip. I stand by you. Okay?”

“Hello there. You two. Stop this fussing around and nonsense talk. Get yourselves back here, now!” Elsa´s voice bounced through the car, ineffectively actually.

Anna stared at Kristoff, then at the mobile resting in her lowered hand, then back at Kristoff. “You mean that? I mean, you would not drop me like a hot coal if I´d asked you to bring me back?” Tears forming in her eyes, she breathed heavy, waiting for his affirmation in disbelief.

“Yes Anna. I mean it. I love you. And I want you to live your life. However, you see it to live. What´s my part in it, we will find out. But I want you to live your life, because it´s your life, and not the life of others, no matter who.” He had emphasised the last phrase. It was so important to him, that she would understand to live her life in her way.

Anna´s lips quivered, she chuckled, giggled and sobbed all in same. She would not take her eyes from Kristoff´s friendly look, while she lifted her hand and spoke into her mobile.

“Elsa. Please excuse me for tonight. Tell them I´m unavailable or something. I won't have Kristoff bringing me back. We're going to Disneyland!”

“An…” Elsa´s voice was turned off by Anna pushing the red button. She dropped the mobile and threw herself into the welcoming embrace, to embrace the edge into a new world.

**********

Elsa stared in disbelief onto her mobile. Anna had hung cut her off. Her little stubborn sister. Did she actually have a clue of what she was doing, of how she was just about to ruin her life, her career, her future? Elsa nearly shook with fury. How could she. How could she behave so childish, so foolishly, so senseless, like a dreaming idiot?

She turned to her car, to get back at the Arendelle estate, the home of the Rendelle family since two hundred years. How should she explain this to her grandfather…? Her parents would have understood, would have sat to reason over this. But her grandfather… Runeard Rendelle was a stern man, focused on family wealth and on representing their name. He was not particular mean in person, but business came before personal affairs. He was convinced that a good name, fortune and power in the upper classes would provide for good living and fulfilled life. His son, Agnarr, had followed the elder´s advices. Still, Elsa´s parents had lived family in a kind manner and taken care to teach their daughters to care for each other. But then, business had over throned all plans for family and personal matters.

A few years ago, Agnarr and Iduna Rendelle died in a car accident, and Elsa´s and Anna´s future lay completely in their grandfather´s hands.

Would Anna really take the risk and step out of the family´s tradition and run off with this half portion of a carpenter? Not that Kristoff Bjorgman was half a portion, physically spoken… But to the terms of Runeard Rendelle, a carpenter would not even deserve a nod of the head for acknowledgement´s sake. No college degree, no money, no well-known name…

Anna had never listened to the warnings. Apparently, she had set her mind to stick with the man. After all, he had helped her a lot. He had been a good friend to her when everyone else had frowned at her foolish situation she had manoeuvred herself in with Hans back three years ago.

Kristoff had never made efforts to befriend with the family, nor to make himself a name within their circle of friends. He liked it best to have Anna to himself in his surroundings. And Anna seemed to like it. She seemed to feel at ease with his family and friends.

Elsa had met Kristoff´s family once, being co-invited to a birthday party. They were kind and friendly. A bit weird in her opinion, but if Anna felt happy with them… Kristoff´s best friend Sven was a funny chap, with a sincere smile and jovial manner. The two men were about to establish their own business as partners. Elsa knew by Anna that they were working hard to accomplish their plan.

Elsa mused over this awkward situation, while driving into the carport next to the big house. She remained behind her steering wheel and a thought had pinned in her mind. ´Anna might have the courage to do the next right thing for herself. Had she not heard how Kristoff told her that it was her life and not the life of others? He had not pushed her, not been manipulating, just reassuring her to choose the next step for herself. For her own life. ´

Elsa stepped out of her car and made her way up the estate´s pathway to the great front door. She held her head high, like she would do when entering the family´s home. She braced herself to meet up with her grandfather…

**********

Anna leaned back in her seat, staring out in front of the window into the last sunrays that were sinking behind the horizon. The evening light was faded into a soft pink, mingled with soft blue strokes in the skyline, mixed along with silent hanging clouds, drifting in the spring wind.

“I can´t believe I´ve cut her off like that. Do you think she´ll be fine?”

“Anna. She´s the big girl and she´s not the one heading off to Disneyland. Your grandfather won’t decapitate her.” He tried to sound jovial, but Kristoff was not stupide and understood Anna´s concern. “Don´t worry, honey, I´m sure she will find a way to explain. And then, it´s your decision. I fear you will be the one who will have to deal with Runeard Rendelle yourself: But Anna. You´re not alone!”

Anna had turned her gaze towards him, tired now, but still feeling kind of free. After the decision had formed within her and then crawled up to her mind to finally being spoken out into the mobile, she had felt a weight falling from her, invisible but fully present. She placed a soft hand on Kristoff´s arm. He would pat it with his other hand, putting it then back onto the steering wheel.

“So, I took the first step out of my life.” Anna mused quietly.

Kristoff kept eyes on the road, but spoke softly, and reassuring. “No Anna. I´d say you took your first step into your life!”

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils

Peggy finally asks about the coordinates, and gets an offer she cannot possibly accept.

-

Peggy showed her badge at the police station, and they let her inside.  She descended the stairs, and asked the man standing guard over Lake’s cell to step outside for a moment.  It all gave her a terrible sense of déjà vu.  This was exactly what had led up to facilitating Dottie’s escape, wasn’t it? Except this time it was going to be different, she told herself.  This time, she had no use for the woman behind those bars except for satisfying some curiosity.  Once she’d established to her own satisfaction that she wouldn’t be able to get any answers, Peggy could go back to her hotel and maybe even sleep for once.

Lake was lying on the cot with no blanket over her, curled up and facing away from the bars, her back gently moving as she breathed. The shackles were lying in a heap on the floor.  Nobody had tried to enter the room to replace or remove them, which was probably wise, but they did draw Peggy’s attention to the fact that Lake was not attached to the bed.

Signs had suggested that the girls in training in Siberia were always handcuffed to their beds at night.  Similar marks on the bedposts had appeared in every room they knew Dottie to have stayed in.  Peggy had spoken to a psychologist about this, and he had agreed with her initial hunch that the handcuffs represented a perverse form of security.  If the girls’ keepers shackled them to their beds, it meant they weren’t going to have to up stakes and flee in the middle of the night. With the cuffs on, any surprises would be real surprises, not sudden training exercises.

Lake had shown she could get out of the cuffs easily, so the fact that she hadn’t bothered to put them back on suggested that she was expecting something to drag her out of bed that night. Something that would happen so quickly, she might not have time to bother about her handcuffs.

If she thought that something would be Peggy breaking her out, she was going to be sorely disappointed.  Peggy rapped on the bars.

“Miss Lake,” she said calmly.

Lake rolled over and sat up.  “Yes?”

At least, Peggy thought, it was good to know this woman hadn’t been sleeping like a baby while Peggy herself lay staring at the ceiling. She stepped back to be out of arm’s reach.  “Was anything you told me this afternoon true?”

“Truth is a matter of circumstance,” said Lake.

“No, it isn’t,” Peggy said.  “When I say…” she thought for a moment, and chose a random historical event.  “When I say William Herschel discovered the planet Uranus, that’s true. It happened.”

“He said it happened,” Lake countered.  “You’ve only got his word for it.  Maybe he found it in somebody else’s notes, somebody who never published it, then located it again and took the credit.”

“Details,” said Peggy.

“The devil’s in the details, Peggy,” said Lake.

“I know,” she nodded.  “Now… perhaps you can give me some details about this.”  She held up the sheet of paper, still covered with fingerprint powder, but with the numbers and the drawing still clearly visible. “Those are your fingerprints.  You put this in my purse.  That happened, no alternative scenarios possible.  What is it?”

Lake looked as if she were considering several possible answers, and Peggy thought that if she said it was a piece of paper she would reach through the bars and strangle the woman.

“It’s where the Valkyrie crashed,” said Lake. “You already figured that out.”

“Why did you give it to me?” asked Peggy.

“Because I wanted you to have it,” was the reply.

“Why?” Peggy insisted.

“Because I think that’s what Captain America would have wanted.”

She was probably right – he probably would have. Peggy was on a short list of people Steve would have trusted to memorialize him without trying to make use of his earthly remains.  Of course, Howard Stark would also have been on that list, and that hadn’t turned out so well.  For a moment Peggy wondered how Lake could have known that, but then she remembered the films.  Everybody who’d seen those knew that Steve carried a picture of Peggy in his compass.  Once Lake had determined that she was a real person, not an actress, it would have been an easy conclusion to come to.

“How do you know that’s where he is?” Peggy asked.

“Because I’ve been there,” said Lake.  “I’ve seen it.”  She stood up.  “The Valkyrie came down with the port wing lower than starboard.  It hit the ice, broke through it, and tore off.” She used her hands to suggest the motion.  “The fuselage rotated away, crashing through the ice as it went, until the starboard wing got caught on the rocks at the edge of the island and stopped it.  The cockpit filled with water immediately and the windows popped out, forcing the pilot out of his seat and out of the airplane. His body settled back on top of it as the water froze again.”

“He wasn’t wearing his harness,” said Peggy.  Of course he wasn’t.  He never did.

“He’s lying on top of the plane,” Lake said, “with his eyes shut, like he’s sleeping.  He must have been knocked unconscious immediately.  I don’t think he felt a moment’s pain.  His shield is on one arm,” she assumed the same position, “and a fist in the other, as if he’s clutching something.”

The bloody compass.  Lake’s descriptions were so vivid, Peggy could almost see the crash happening in slow motion in front of her eyes.  She wanted to believe it had happened that way… the devil was giving her the details with a smile on his face.

“Who knows about this?” Peggy asked.

“I do,” said Lake.  “And you do.”

“Who else?”

Lake shrugged.  “The Inuit who live around there probably know.  They’d have seen it come down and they might have investigated, but I doubt they’d disturb it once they realized he was dead.  The ice would protect him from wolves or bears, and as long as a corpse isn’t going to be scavenged, they’re not worried about it.”

Peggy nodded slowly.  It was all so believable, and yet the only way to know if any of this were true would be to travel fifteen hundred miles and look for herself. How convenient.

“Let me guess,” she said.  “If I let you out of this cell, you’ll take me there.”  Except that Lake would almost certainly vanish post-haste and never be seen again.

“You don’t need me for that,” said Lake.  “You have the coordinates.  You can go on your own.”

“And leave you here unsupervised?”

“I’m in jail.  What can I get up to?”  Lake’s face was the picture of innocence.

“Miss Lake, the more you imply that you want me to go elsewhere, the more certain I become that I need to stay right here,” Peggy told her.

“That’s up to you.  But be careful what you do with that page,” Lake said, nodding towards the paper.  “It’s not that hard to figure out what it means, and there are people who would kill for it.  And I told you twice now, call me Kay.”

As Peggy walked back to her hotel in the darkness, she murmured the numbers on the page to herself over and over. Seventy-four.  Forty-seven.  Thirty-five. Ninety-five.  Twenty-five.  Three. She repeated them until she was absolutely sure she could never forget them, that she’d be reciting them under her breath on her deathbed if she lived to be a hundred.  Then she burned the page, and flushed the ashes down the toilet.

She climbed back into bed and shut her eyes, and realized that she actually did feel sleepier now.  The encounter hadn’t taught Peggy anything much, but she did have an inkling of what Lake might actually be trying to accomplish.  She wanted to ruin Peggy’s reputation, and possibly the entire SSR’s.  She wanted them to mount a very expensive expedition to the arctic and come back with nothing, having wasted valuable time and taxpayer money on a tip they knew wasn’t trustworthy.  They would look like fools, and people like Masters would turn it into a public scandal and shut them down.

That fate was easy to avoid, though – all Peggy had to do was never tell another person about it, ever.  She’d already told Agent Russel, but he hadn’t seemed very interested at the time and by now had probably forgotten all about it.  As long as Peggy didn’t remind him, it ought to be fine.  Or perhaps she ought to have a word with him about it, just in case.  Surely of all people, an FBI agent could keep a secret.

Nothing in Peggy’s world was ever that simple, of course, but this was early days.  There was still time to keep a lid on it if she played her cards right.

- 

Between her bout of insomnia and her late-night interrogation session, Peggy slept late again, though not so late as yesterday. It was around ten thirty when she woke up, and the first thing she noticed to her great relief was that her face was finally starting to feel better.  When she looked in the bathroom mirror, she found that the redness had faded quite a bit, though she was still quite puffy.  Washing stung, but it wasn’t the agony it had been twenty-four hours earlier.  She almost looked like a human being again.

“Seventy-four,” she said to the mirror.  “Forty-seven.  Thirty-five. Ninety-five.  Twenty-five.  Three.” The numbers must be a red herring, but Peggy didn’t want to forget them.  Just in case.

She still didn’t wear makeup, but she stood a little taller as she walked to the SSR, and the sun wasn’t as painful as it had been. A couple of the ladies on the switchboards said good morning to her, and mentioned that she looked much better today. Peggy thanked them, and took the elevator up to the SSR.

There was a nasty shock waiting for her there.

A large table had been placed in the centre of the room. There were papers strewn over it and coffee mugs and half-eaten pastries around the edges, but most of it was taken up by a large map of the United States with a series of pins in it. Peggy had a similar one in her apartment in Los Angeles, chronicling Dottie’s known movements.  This one had more pins, and standing at the head of the table, talking to Thompson, was Kay Lake.

She was no longer in her gray prisoner’s uniform. Instead she was wearing a white jacket with black polka-dots and a black skirt with white ones.  Her hair was done and she was wearing makeup and gloves. The women’s straw hat hanging off the corner of one of the chairs must also be hers.  She looked up as Peggy walked in, and smiled.

“Good morning, Peggy!  You look like you slept well!” she said.

“Good morning, Kay,” Peggy replied.  “So do you.”

“Morning, Marge,” said Thompson.

Peggy took a moment to picture herself standing alone in the bombed-out ruins of Coventry Cathedral, screaming at the top of her lungs. Once she had at least imagined indulging that urge, she said, “Jack, may I have a word.”

“No,” he said.  “I took your recommendations into account and came to a decision.  I think you’re letting a personal feeling of rivalry with these women cloud your thinking, and I want to remind you, you don’t even work for the east coast office anymore.”

“I see,” said Peggy stiffly.

Thompson looked around.  “Would you excuse us a moment, gentlemen?” he asked.  “And Kay?”

Various heads nodded.  Lake flashed a dazzling smile and said, “of course, Jack.”

“Thank you.  Carter?” Thompson waved for her to follow him.  She did so, but she was seething.  Everything he’d just said and done had been designed to humiliate her: refusing to talk on her terms, dismissing her concerns, accusing her of bias, and then forcing her to talk privately on his schedule.  He’d better have something to say for himself, or she was going to head straight back to California.  Frankly, there was probably nothing Thompson himself would like better.

In the office, Thompson shut the door, and then turned to face her.  “I know you don’t think I know what I’m doing, but I do.  Before she left that room we got prints and mug shots, and they’re on their way right now to every border crossing, air- and seaport in the country.  If this goes wrong, she’ll have nowhere to run, and she knows it.”

“Does she,” said Peggy.  She left off the question mark on purpose.

“These girls’ whole schtick is we’re supposed to underestimate them,” Thompson said.  “We think they can’t be that dangerous because they’re women.  So turn that back on her.  I’ve got two CIA guys in that room undercover and there’s another pair of them watching from a car across the road.  If she moves we’ll be ready, and until then, she thinks her feminine wiles have worked.”

“So that outside was for her benefit?” Peggy asked suspiciously.  It would certainly be enough to convince most people that Jack Thompson didn’t care what a woman thought.

“Yes,” said Thompson.  “Now, if you don’t want to help, I’ll call Daniel and you can go back to California.  If you do, your job is to hang around and question everything I say so I can tell you not to be paranoid.”

“Business as usual, then,” Peggy remarked.  She glanced through the window to the main room… Agent Russel was there, standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, looking like he wanted no part of this fiasco.  Lake was laughing at something one of the other men had said, for all the world having a marvelous time.

“I’m not going to stay just so you can pretend to bully me,” she decided.  “I will call Daniel myself.”