#and mind control bone necklaces (pictured)

[stiwfssr]

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Don't Come Crying

Warnings: Gore, OC piece, robot!0C, FNAF, FNAF animatronic!OC, evil!OC, afton!OC, Ellie's twin sister!OC, evil twin!OC Type: Songfic Fandom: FNAF|slasher_jax Commission: Nope! This came from my own fucked up little mind A/N: Yea idk, don't ask. My oc Winifred "Winnie" Afton, everyone!

Song:

Winnie never had clean hands. Maybe it was because of her fathers psychotic-ness, maybe it was because of her mothers neglect. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she had her own sick desires. Maybe she got this weird tingly feeling in her gut when her knife plunges into the chest of a body. Adult, child, it didn't matter, as long as it was human, she was satisfied for a while. Her father loved her the most, just because she shared his same sick desires. Her mother, however, hated them. Her mother preferred her twin sister, Elizabeth. She was always the little sweet heart, given the utmost care while Winnnie sat idly next to her. She was the unwanted twin it felt like most of the time. The black sheep, the evil one. It used to hurt her, when her mother would turn her back on her. Turning down her bone necklaces for Ellie's flower crowns. She never understood it. The flower crowns were so fragile, but the bones, the bones would last a near lifetime. She would paint horrifyingly gorey pictures that not even their older brother Micheal enjoyed. She eventually gave up on her mother, and began basking in the sweet sweet attention of her father. The man who wore the bone jewelry she made him, the man who appreciated her gorey drawings, the man who fed her hunger, the man behind the slaughter. William Afton, her father. She was obsessed with being like him, She started dressing like him, acting like him, and even cut and dyed her hair too to look like his. After a while, she got a little too crazy. She was beginning to think for herself. She was acting a lot less planned out, and more sporadically. William was beginning to loose control of his prized daughter. In a last ditch effort to keep her under control for the rest of the horrify duo's existence, he had her help him design a robot. Winnie, now a teen, thought nothing of this, figuring her father was just running out of ideas. After designing and helping create the suit, Winnie, was killed. William killed the light of his life, his favorite. He then trapped Winnie's body in the very suit they designed and built together, hoping that her soul would transfer over. And it did, but she was more malevolent then ever. She remembered what happened, much to Williams dismay, however she said that she held no grudge against him. She lied... Eventually she got her revenge on her back stabbing father, let's all see what happened on that fateful night. The night in which, the man behind the slaughter was killed. The night in which Winnie got her delicious revenge.

Winnie walked slowly through the attractions, her heavy footsteps leaving everyone cowering in fear. The new night guard had overstayed his welcome. He had managed to stay out of trouble for four nights, but he wouldn't get past this final night, Winnie would make sure of it. Elizabeth had been toying with him, not fearing her father or her sister. Ellie thought she would've had him killed by last night. But she failed to get him into the scooper room, therefore, Winnie and their father were called in to take care of him.

Winnie acted as an attraction the whole day, only stopping to lure a few people, kids specifically, to a different room for her father to kill or restrain. After the long day was finally over, she went down into the underground with the rest of the animatronics. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their stages, keeping an eye about until the night guard came, knowing how unpredictable Winnie is and can be. Winnie stood silently next to Elizabeth, staring forwards into the room the unsuspecting night guard would be in soon, staring menacingly.

Everyone else were sitting in their places quietly, even her mother. Mrs. Afton stood on her stage, knowing better than to disobey her youngest daughter. She had became a monster since her father began enabling her.. quirks. Everyone held their breath when they heard Winnie's undeniable scream of pain as she received a control shock. Music began as Winnie's scream slowly came to an end, the sound coming from Winnie and Ellie's stage. The lights around there began flicking on as the clowns and rabbit was revealed, the clown with red and white as the it's main colors, and the rabbit with purple and black as the main colors.

"Hey, hey, now, everyone! We have a new guest." Winnie began, moving like she had done all day, moving the mic to her robots teeth that moved up and down, imitating her singing.

The nightguard nodded slightly, walking away, the song echoing off all of the walls as it began raining outside. The rain began pelting against the windows, lightening cracking, and thunder shaking the entire place.

"There goes another one that I put to rest. Here in the underground, I have to confess, there's no place, no-o-ohh, quite this dark, noh-o-oh." Winnie's voice began getting louder and creepier. As the nightguard slowly began making his way through to the room with Funtime Freddy and BonBon. (spare me, I haven't played Sister Location yet). Winnie dislodged her feet from the stage, slowly following him by the vent, making her voice rattle off the sides of the vent.

"But I'll be here with you, along for the ride. Where nightmare's are all real, so try not to cry." Winnie danced along the wall as the guard stood, noticing her. "Okay, I take it back, I really don't mind, no escaper, no-o-oh, from your fate, no-o-oh." Winnie began taking steps towards him. He quickly turned and ran, locking himself into the room Winnie came out of, Circus Baby's stage. Winnie followed him in, pushing the door open just as Ellie tried to hide him. "Makes you, wonder, doesn't it, which one of us oposites is the weak baby here, I think, it's pretty clear." Winnie said, grabbing Ellie's arm and slinging her to the other side of the room. The music slowly cut out and the lights cut off as the guard cut them off, thinking it would make Winnie stop.

Winnie growled, a rare noise from a robotic rabbit, not so rare for a malevolent soul. Winnie slowly made her way up, shifting down to her soul form. She walked up the steps, her now smaller form making less noise than the large robotic rabbit one. Winnie yelled in anger as she made her way up, seeing the trail of blood and already knowing William had gotten to the guard before her. She also noticed a disregarded bloody kitchen knife that she picked up, the reminder of what her own father done to her reappearing in her head as she made her way down the hall to the side room. She busted into the side room and threw the knife she was holding at William, blood immediately spewing from his arm.

"W-Winnie?! Why?!" William yelled in anger and pain as the, now lifeless, nightguard lied mangled and blood on the floor between them.

"Oh, you thought, that you could control me? You can cry, but you listen closely." Winnie sung, stepping closer and closer, snagging another knife from the bloody tool belt that was around their waist when she died. "Father, I'm sorry, I'M NOT SORRY!" Winnie grinned like a maniac as her voice turned demonic and creepy, her horns popping up from her hair causing more blood to run from her head and down her face as she jumped on top of William, stabbing him relentlessly.

That was the last known clip of the girl named Winifred Iris Afton, or more commonly known as Winnie by her father and siblings. Her father, William Vincent Afton, was later found to have murdered five children on the evening of June 26, 1985, and later went on to murder his fifteen year old daughter Winnie. His body was found at 7:15 on July 17, 1998 with several stab wounds and bite marks, which were later compared to dental records and showed perfect resemblance to Winifred's last known dental exam. This clip was found mere hours after the police search began causing questions to rise in the media. Is Winnie really dead? If so, then who killed William Afton? And if not, then where will she strike next? The only things that were amiss in the underground storage area, aside from the dead bodies of 28 year old Micheal Afton, and 54 year old William Afton, was the disappearance of the beloved black and purple rabbit animatronic, Raven Inkwell. Later investigations showed a trail of blood leading out of some sort of escape hatch. The trail was followed to an old beat down Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The place was also thoroughly checked, but the trail of blood was gone, and no sign that Raven or Winifred were ever there.

Taglist: @zeroisreallygood @th3-r4t-48 @puppet200

[mwplanet]

Christmas Present Ideas

The perfect guide for a perfect Christmas present 

By Daphne Da Costa 

Most popular Christmas presents 2022

Photo via The Rolling Stones

Christmas time is a season of love, appreciation, giving, and family, and one of the best ways to show appreciation is by finding the perfect gift. Selecting the right gift for the right person is a tough decision, and it is often put off until the last minute. However, with enough time taken beforehand to shop around and consider what people want or need, you can make sure that their Christmas is fun and memorable. 

When searching for a Christmas gift, keep a few things in mind: think about the types of things this person enjoys, and consider their age and personality. Don't just buy random gifts for the sake of getting it over with! Instead, think about the kinds of presents that this specific person would enjoy, use, and appreciate. The average shopper buys presents for about 8 different recipients. While you don't have to spend that much time and money, it is still important to show your loved ones that you are willing to take the time to find them the perfect present.

The average holiday budget is $708.03, which is quite a lot of money. It is understandable that high school students, the majority without side jobs, don't have this much money. However, there are still many low-cost presents available! It doesn’t even have to be pre-made! You can purchase some materials to make a special DIY gift. 

Just remember that the ideal gift would be specific to their hobbies, interests and personality. There are many different scenarios and examples, some of which are included below. 

For example, when shopping for moms, consider a gift that is sentimental and heartfelt. This can range across a variety of different presents, but some examples include a grow-your-own plant kit if she is a gardener, a temperature control smart mug to keep her tea/coffee warm, a sock advent calendar, a personalized birthstone necklace, a locket engraved with her initials, a fashionable scarf, or a DIY package of personalized handwritten letters from you. Any one of these gifts is one that your mom will love and appreciate. 

When shopping for dads, consider purchasing something that will be useful and handy to him. Some examples include a low-cost recipe book, a unique keychain for his car keys, a new pair of his favourite jeans, a wooden lap desk, a couch coaster, a dart board, or a custom vinyl record. As long as there is thought put into the gift, any father will think it's fantastic. 

For an artsy person, purchase something that they will put to use with their artistic talents. A few examples include jewelry, watercolour pencil crayons, a crystal suncatcher, a custom book embosser stamp, a new sketchbook, more art supplies, or a mini sewing machine. After all, artsy people love creative gifts!

It is also a widely known fact that people are more inclined to buy presents for their pets than for their friends. If you have a pet that you want to show your gratitude and love to, the holidays are the perfect chance! You can do this through a new bone, a collar, treats or toys. 

Lastly, for a partner/significant other, consider a gift that is more specific to your relationship, as it can be perceived as more romantic. An example of this is a gift that is an inside joke, which would feel more special because it is only understood by the two of you. Another idea is buying them a locket with a picture of the two of you inside, a pair of promise rings, or even a photograph with a personalized frame. Any one of these gifts will definitely be perceived as thoughtful and sweet by your partner.

Gifts under the tree

Photo via CBS News

Apart from the regular gift-giving list of family members, relatives, and friends, consider lighting up a stranger's Christmas Day by giving them a gift disguised as a random act of kindness. One of the best Christmas presents you can give is a donation to a lifesaving charity. Even something simpler is just as thoughtful, like handing out candy canes to neighbours or leaving an anonymous present on a stranger's doorknob. These are small but meaningful gifts that would be heavily appreciated.

Whatever unique gift(s) you end up choosing, just remember that in the end, it's the thought that counts. Christmas is about giving and being grateful. So take the upcoming holiday season as a chance to show gratitude to your family, friends, and loved ones through a heartfelt, hand-selected gift.

[aris-ink]

Hi there!!! Can you write obsessive, possessive yandere Namjoon smut? Can be any plot/scenario. You have full creative control, absolutely love your writing and congrats on passing your exam!!🥳🥳🥳

- Shy anon 🩰

tysm 🥺 and I love YOU 💕

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: romance

warnings: jealousy, allusions to stalking, rough sex, choking (with jewelry lmao), spanking, oral sex, mentions of nude photographs, praise + a little degradation, daddy kink, creampie

Namjoon. 

The letters were gold and filled with small diamonds, just like the chain they were attached to. Sometimes, his gifts felt like intimate love notes, ink curving softly on sunlit paper.

Sometimes, they felt like roses. Petals stained red and thorns drawing more red from your fingers. A softness so savage it never failed to remind you that you were his.

"I stayed up the- fuck- the whole n-night, shit, waiting for you to come home, you little brat."

His hips pounded against your ass mercilessly, shoving you harder and harder into his desk, your thighs burning from the wood's rough edges. You could feel his cock stretching you out with every aggressive thrust; long and thick, it always made your mind go numb, nothing but shivers of pleasure flooding through you. But with your air flow being restricted on top of that, you could do nothing but moan, your head filled with cotton.

And he knew.

He tightened his grip on the chain around your neck, like it was nothing more than a leash. The golden letters dug into your skin. There was no way this wouldn't leave marks; and maybe that was exactly what he wanted. Blurry purple and blue galaxies in the shape of his name, right where everyone could see it.

"Nothing to say? Huh?" He breathed into your ear, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack.

You whined, electric currents running through you, wires sparking.

"Aw. Can't speak? Is daddy choking you too hard?"

The mockery in his voice had you gushing, and a deep groan rumbled out of his chest. You were beginning to see stars dancing around your eyes. So good, but so dizzy.

He released the necklace. The sudden flow of air into your lungs made you collapse forward, and you would have hit the desk had he not been there to catch you.

But Namjoon was always there to catch you.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you up to his chest.

"That's it, that's my good girl," he whispered, soothing fingertips caressing your stomach, and hard cock still pounding deep into you. "You understand daddy needs to punish you, right?"

Your throat ached, but it hurt so good, your head falling against his shoulder.

"Yeah d-daddy," you moaned hoarsely. "I'm sorry."

Namjoon grunted.

"Good girl. You're only mine, do you understand that?"

The desk was beginning to shake, his cock so wet the sounds of it ramming inside you alone were feeding the fire igniting your bones. You mewled, nodding with the little strength you had in you.

"Yes, yes, only yours, daddy."

Another harsh smack on your ass made you tingle. Namjoon groaned.

"Ah, fuck, good girl. Good girl."

You knew the moment you got a little too lost in having fun at the party that arriving home late will end like this; with you shaking and coming all over his cock, right before he followed and filled you up until you overflowed.

Namjoon was never one to deny you an orgasm, even when he was punishing you. On the contrary; he loved to make you fall to pieces, remind you that you were his and why you were his. He liked to kiss you all over and wash you afterwards, whispering his praises like prayers. Assuring you that you were his good girl, that you took his cock so well, that he was so proud of his baby.

Polaroids.

Ever the hopeless romantic, he always kept a picture of you in his wallet, a pretty smile on your face and your chain on full display. Small boxes hidden away in his closet were filled with more pictures, because Namjoon could never get enough of you. (Some of them taken before you started dating, but you didn't need to know that.) It was so hard to pick a favorite; but if he had to, it would probably be the one where you wore nothing but the chain, the very definition of art. Namjoon never thought of himself as a photographer until he met you.

"Just a little more, baby. Let me see you."

You spread your legs further apart, skin burning hot, heart racing beneath your ribs.

Click.

The camera was set down and he leaned down to capture your lips in the low light of the candles, tongue eager and skilled.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he sighed. "I love you so much."

His hand traveled up to squeeze your breast. You moaned into his mouth, arching your back and reaching for his zipper.

"I love you too."

Namjoon sighed again, contentedly, scattering soft, wet kisses across your neck. Nothing so wrong ever felt so right before.

Because you knew it was wrong. He was too jealous, too obsessive. And yet he was exactly what you needed.

Not a moment passed by where you didn't feel wanted or loved. You never had a shadow of doubt that if you fell, he'd swoop in and save you. And if he couldn't, he'd throw himself into the abyss just to rest with you at the rock bottom and keep you warm.

And he never tolerated your self doubt.

"Are you happy with me?"

You sniffled, nodding your head.

"Then that's all that matters, baby."

He rocked you in his arms, wiping away the tears that fell. It was messed up. You were like a lost, little girl, starved for love and attention, and so tired of life. With Namjoon these burdens disappeared; it was a well known fact that even beasts most feral had mates, and you were his. Fitting into him like a puzzle piece. The balance between heaven and hell, your wings caught on fire from flying too low.

"My pretty, little angel. Fuck."

You moaned around his cock, trying to relax your throat for him. You could taste precum on your tongue, and he groaned as you swallowed.

"Yeah. Good girl. Can I fuck that pretty mouth, baby?"

You answered him with another moan. His grip on your hair tightened, hips rutting forward.

"Shit, I'm so close."

His panting was making your cunt throb. The tip of his cock reached deeper, touching the back of your throat. You breathed through your nose slowly, eyes stinging as you tried not to choke.

"Fucking hell," he grunted. "Daddy's good, little slut."

You clenched, your panties wet and knees sore, Namjoon's thrusts growing sloppier by the second.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna come."

His breathing grew harsh, raspy moans slipping out of his heavenly mouth. No matter how much you braced yourself for it, the feeling of his cum spurting down your throat had you whining around him. You swallowed it all down, watching him curse, a thrilling shudder running through his body.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth carefully, hissing at the sensitivity.

You took a much needed breath, hands dropping down to your knees. Namjoon leaned down to scoop you into his arms, lifting you off the floor. It never failed to amaze you how strong he was.

"God, you're incredible," he mumbled, carrying you towards the bed. "Your turn, princess."

Insatiable.

That never failed to amaze you, either; or just how much you enjoyed it.

He set you down on the mattress gently, then reached to open the drawer on the nightstand.

"But before that," he murmured, fingers wrapping around your chin, "let me see that pretty face, baby."

He directed the camera straight at your lips, still swollen and wet from sucking him off. He made sure that your chain was also in the frame, his name gleaming around your neck. You relaxed, the sheets pleasantly cool under your body, and his gaze burning hot.

Click.

Another one for his collection.

[toasterdrake]

Behind Closed Doors

Natasha Romanoff x gn!Reader

Genre: friends-with-benefits-with-complicated-feelings

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: implication of sexy times

Summary: As a publicity gimmick, you and Natasha go on a talk show. But what happens behind closed doors is much more important.

A/N: my puns are evolving so much they include gifs <3. Me? Use consistent motifs? Nah. I tried something different with this, and I really don't know how I feel about the result or even what that is. Enjoy!

(Gif not mine)

🚪🚪🚪

"Alright, [Y/N]. I'm going to show you a picture, and you tell me what you see," The host explained, gesturing to the giant TV screen that had been wheeled out.

"Ok, I'm ready!" You said, eagerly leaning forward to rest your elbows on your thighs, your chin resting on your folded hands. Your focus was fixed decisively on the screen. You were determined to take in every single detail.

Natasha watched you with her careful public smile; muted in her deceptively shiny emerald eyes.

"Alright, here we go," The host said, rubbing his hands together like a sly grasshopper conducting a performance.

The picture was of Natasha.

It was Natasha.

And God, she looked hot.

Her waves of fire were tied into a low, wispy bun, her pearl earrings ghosts burning your own. She was looking down, clearly focused on watching her next elegant step past the long folds of her sleek black dress, which she had bunched up delicately around her thighs to allow ascending steps a little easier. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, a slit up one side taunting. Her arms were bare except for glittering bands around her upper arms holding the dress secure. Her shoulders were also bare, collarbone thrown into sharp relief by luck of the capture of her movements. A crystalline aquamarine necklace cascaded like a chandelier just above her breasts, which were supported in a dangerously low cup by the dress alone. The washed out evening sun played with light and shadow like a passionate painter, enhancing the delicate curves of her divine form. She glowed more incandescently than sunlight.

Your mouth went bone dry.

You were pretty sure you stopped breathing.

You missed the half concerned, half skeptical look Natasha sent you as your stunned silence dragged on.

It took a few seconds to return to the moment -- to realise the host was speaking to you: asking, "What colour was the carpet?" With the arrogant grin of a predator who knows he's trapped his prey.

The shadowed audience murmured a dispute of harmonious discourse. It was all white noise in your ears.

You tore your gaze from the picture only when the screen was wheeled away. It still flashed in your mind, refusing to leave you in peace as you stared blankly at the host's slate of a face, searching desperately for an answer.

A sharp blur of Natasha on the sofa next to you.

Dumbly, you squeaked out, "There was a carpet?"

The audience roared. The host's grin stretched into a hyena's mocking laugh. Natasha's careful smile turned outright guarded as she employed control to not show the effect it had on her.

You blushed impossibly red.

Natasha grazed your hand to ask silently if you were okay. 

Everyone laughed along until the tension eked out through the studio's windows like saccharine sap.

The interview moved on.

Natasha was told to track a chocolate piece as it was shuffled, and entirely missed the rubber duck. Her self-deprecating jokes twitched your brow down into the tiniest crease. You stayed quiet.

You said your goodbyes as awkwardly as your introductions, and retired to your provided dressing rooms as though they were a breath of fresh air.

A light rap echoed through the heavy wooden door. Suspecting who it was, you invited them in without moving from your place slumped on a chair. You only tilted your head down from staring vacantly at the ceiling, when they slipped inside unobtrusively and closed the door behind them with the gentlest click.

Unsurprisingly, it was Natasha. Her gaze roamed around the room, taking everything in, before settling on you. She returned your genuine smile and, upon receiving no objection, draped herself across your lap on the chair. Your hands went instinctively to her waist. Her skin was chokingly warm beneath the dress.

You watched her somberly as she stroked your cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. She studied your face, trying to read your expression and what it meant.

"What happened back there?" She finally whispered into the non-existent space between you.

You took a long second to answer, as if collecting your energy to produce sound. 

"What part do you mean? All of it was hell."

Your voice barely rose above a deep rasp, rumbling gutturally in your chest.

Natasha smiled demurely.

"Your game. It was like you blacked out," She explained, speaking patiently to coax you into understanding.

You only shrugged, and she let you.

You surged up to tug at her bottom lip. She answered you with a begging groan, so you enveloped them fully.

You teased the folds of her dress, teased the taut skin of her neck, teased the mold of her soft thighs. Natasha encouraged you with wanton moans cascading from fevered lips.

In the still that followed, breath recollected, you confessed your reason for distraction. She took it in the stride of rose-tinted cheeks.

You confessed the desire to worship her as the sun-bringer she was. She told you that you could play pretend between her thighs. You pressed a kiss to her forehead and outlined your holy book.

You left the building by separate routes. The warmth of the other's closeness lingered on the palms of your hearts.

Fans swarmed you like dehydrated animals to a watering hole. Your cars took different routes to the hotel.

Natasha allowed you to worship her as the sun-bringer she is, on the condition you see yourself as her galaxy. You knew you could only be a moon in orbit, inching closer to the pull of her gravity until it burned you to a crisp. You accepted the deal, happy to smolder beneath her touch.

🚪🚪🚪

love,

- bi-rd ☕

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.2)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

*SNEAK PEAK*

Summary: On the worst days, Yoongi is judge, jury, and executioner. But he judges you and finds you worthy of protecting (and loving too). 

Tags: Dead bodies, blood, murder/crime themes, guilt, childhood trauma, drugs (cocaine, heroine), domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, controlling behavior, implications of omega mistreatment/discrimination, anorexia, blood, graphic depictions of violence, manipulation, talking behind someone's back, morally gray Yoongi, 

W/c: 14.5k

A/N: Honestly this took me way too long to write and edit. I can’t tell if this is my favorite depiction i’ve ever written of falling in love or if I hate it. But yeah- i didn’t want to sit on it for much longer. This part takes place chronologically before the last part, and documents what happened while yoongi was away from the rest of his pack. 

Previous part — Masterlist

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

CHAPTER 2: THE DON

“She’s just an omega- you know how they are- they need a firm hand to keep them in their place.” Yoongi scoffs thinking of his omegas. Anyone who even dared to think that Seokjin and Jungkook did not wear the pants in their pack had another thing coming to them. 

He watches his older brother cut another line of cocaine. 

The amount of drugs in this Geumjae’s study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He pretends to take a Bump and taps it off when Geumjae tips back a shot."Omegas aren't even fucking worth it if you ask me, brother, you're supposed to give half of yourself away, and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?"

Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. He can't tell what distresses him more Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can't recognize that omegas are fucking people- or that he's so freely sharing this with him. 

He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more, if he provoked aggression from his brother- it would no doubt come back to bite you. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”

Geumjae laughs at Yoongi’s childish question “Oh little brother, don’t you know that love makes you stupid?”

His brother has it all wrong but Yoongi’s powerless to say it. Those threats from the funeral linger. And it's not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side. 

“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think of you if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”

If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can appeal to Geumjae’s better interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae stiffens when he says the words that it’s stuck.

Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in manipulation. And he take the bait- hook, line, and sinker. 

After that, he has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family at the very least. But he fears he might have done more bad than good when he sees the way you stiffen and fail to meet his eyes more consistently as the days go on. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it. you don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.  

Group dinners are routine, and while Yoongi could find an excuse to see you during the day, he’s also often pulled in 50 different directions by the expectations of his family.

He finds himself reading for dinner in a hurry most nights, eager or maybe a little panicked to check in with you. You never request his presence, you never text (though he made sure you have his number just in case), and the family dinners are tense between the two of you.

You maintain none of the easy friendship you’d started that day in the rain or that closeness. You avoid him like the plague at dinner, and It’s like that day in the rain never happened. 

Geumjae sticks to your side like glue too. A hand that probably looks protective to anyone else but looks possessive to Yoongi slung around your waist. Yoongi sees the harshness and pain in your body when Geumjae’s hand tightens digging into the swell of your hip. You’re soft in the way that most omegas are a little soft- and it’s as expected as it is distracting.

He manages to corner you during one of the dinners. you're not alone- and you can hear the grannies and omegas prattling to each other in the kitchen. the alphas are outside enjoying a cigar and investigating one of the new rolls royces that one of yoongi’s uncles recently purchased. 

The corset portion of your dress making your chest soft looking, plump and inviting if yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. As it is- all he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks way too tight on you. he can tell how uncomfortable you are. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, though it's clear you’re not, you dont reply, looking down and away worried. Hand hovering over your stomach, “I won’t get mad whatever it is.”

You bite your lower lip. hand catching yourself on a side table before you teater over, dizzy. Yoongi grabs you before you fall. “He did my corset too tight, it’s hurting my ribs. I feel like im going to pass out.” Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, the garden is a backdrop, speckled with lights. you’re alone. 

Yoongi turns you around quickly, setting his champagne to the side and grabbing yours out of your hand. He undoes the top knot of the dress and you inhale gratefully as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Is that better?” he has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous- but- its not quite proper. 

You inhale deep and grateful. “So much better, thank you.” you barely have a second to both straighten up, Yoongi's fingers pulling the bow back together. grabbing your champagne and sipping at it a careful distance away from Yoongi. looking for all intents and purposes like you’ve been swathed in uncomfortable silence the entire time they were gone. The picture of propriety as Geumjae and a few other alphas return in a puff of rich smoke. 

“Don’t mention it.” Yoongi says it softly so that only you can hear it.

More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you during the dinner. you look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip and your sudden straightening in pain. 

Geumjae’s harsh fingers digging into a bad bruise on your hip. you’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten in his slacks. Gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.

Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden dogmatic approach to your presence in his life. Confirming what Yoongi suspects. That he’d never given you too much attention at these family meals before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes. He should do better be better not to put you in harm's way.

Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever. I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.

Staying silent and letting your husband hurt you is the hardest thing that yoongi’s ever had to do. But there are many more battles, fights and skirmishes to win in this war. Yoongi has to be patient.

He’s a poised snake, ready to strike at the perfect moment.  

COMING WEDNESDAY APRIL 21 @ 6PM EST

[writing-in-april]

Georgia Peach

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer sees Reader eating a peach and goes a little crazy.

A/N: this was a long time coming- ive been writing this oneshot for forever and I finally finished it! The original prompt is from @imagining-in-the-margins and I also incorporated a request for a pearl necklace from @sunlight-moonrise This fic was also written for @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff so I could give them some gender neutral smut! Most of my fluff is gender neutral but until now I hadn’t dived into writing gender neutral smut. I’ll definitely be writing more in the future- I like writing stuff that is as inclusive as possible! There shouldn’t be any mistakes in terms of pronouns- I had a ton of people look at it, but if there is please message me!If you live in Georgia don’t forget to vote in the Georgia state runoff elections!

Warnings: Sub!Spencer, Topping from the bottom, Very slight food play, Face Fucking, Pearl necklace, Pubic sex (sorta), Unprotected sex

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.9k

I was pretty sure I was going to explode just from looking at Y/N. They weren’t doing anything that was infuriating, annoying, or even anything that most would consider sexual in nature. They had decided that a peach brought in by one of the Georgia detectives was the best way to relieve their parched mouth caused by the blistering heat. The mundane act of eating a peach combined with the deep v neck that adorned their figure was apparently enough to make my slacks uncomfortably tight.

Get it together Spencer.

My inner voice was slapping me upside the head repeatedly, trying in vain to break me out of the daydream I had found myself immersed in. I swept the sweat off of my brow while continuing to unabashedly stare at Y/N. I knew that I needed to draw my eyes away from Y/N and focus on the case file that was sitting on my lap. But, just as I was about to tear my eyes away from them they took a large bite of the delicate skin of the white peach causing juice to dribble down their chin.

I’m screwed.

Subtly was not a strong suit of mine. That became painfully obvious when my eyes widened to the max in an attempt to see every detail of the erotic picture I was painting in my mind. The picture became clearer in my mind as another bite was taken out of the supple fruit. The juice escaped their mouth again, however this time a new path was taken when the liquid fell past their chin. The drop of nectar slid down past the juncture of their collarbones, falling perfectly down the point of the v on their shirt, almost as if it was carefully planned and executed. My mind wandered further than I thought possible when images flashed before my eyes of Y/N covered in something different, but similarly sticky. I was so transfixed at the sight that I didn’t notice the coy smile being flashed my way from across the room.

“You alright Dr. Reid?” I could hear the coquettish voice but it sounded like it was 1000 miles away. Everything had become muffled, the only sound I could clearly hear was the thrumming of my heart beat in my ears. I gulped hard, trying and failing to distance myself from my thoughts.

A loud snap in front of my face from the culprit of my dirty thoughts cleared my mind just enough to refocus on the person in front of me. The visage of Y/N still had me in a haze of lust that I couldn’t shake but, I did find some strength within myself to respond, “Y-yeah I’m alright Y/N just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nnn-Nothing, don’t worry about it.” My tone had risen to a high pitch and that along with my stuttering instantly gave away that something was brewing in my head. And, Y/N was good at reading me, they’d always been able to pick out how I felt in a few sentences or less. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d picked up how turned on I was right away.

Yeah, I’m totally screwed.

It was now so silent you could hear a pin drop. I tried to slow down my breathing that had picked up some minutes ago due to the mounting tension in my trousers. Sadly, despite my efforts I could not calm down, my trousers still felt way too tight and now everything felt hot. My face was probably bright red right now from the burning heat coursing through my veins, which would just end up being another signal to Y/N that something was amiss.

I tugged at the edge of my collar trying another way to reduce tension in my body as now the skinny tie I wore felt too tight on my neck. Immediately my mind jumped away to- I wish their hand was on my neck.

During my efforts to ease the tension in my body I must have failed to notice the fact that Y/N was still staring at me. A shudder was sent down my spine when I finally peaked my eyes up from the hands that held the peach to their eyes which felt like they were boring into my thoughts and reading everything.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and never leave. There was no doubt in my mind Y/N had sensed my arousal by now and I’m pretty sure I looked even brighter than a cherry as I started to stumble out an apology. I couldn’t even get one full word out before they had set down the offending fruit and made their way over to me. The chair that I had been sitting in was a swivel chair which Y/N took full advantage of by spinning me around to face them. Their chest was bent over to come down to my sitting form but instead of focusing where their face was my eyes were firmly fixated again on the sliver of skin still glistening with the juice from the peach.

I just wanted to lick it off.

My mind had again been so lost in lust that I didn’t notice that they were now so close to me that I could feel their breath mixing with my own and all my mind was focused on was tasting the sweet nectar that I knew still sat on their tongue. Like a man possessed I tried to lean forward hungrily at Y/N to relieve the undeniable but silent tension we had created. However, suddenly my arm was being pulled out of the conference room by them leading me down the path to the archive room. The city we were stationed in for the case was definitely behind technologically, so much so that they still kept all their files on paper. The old files from cold or closed cases were then schlepped into this forgotten archive room that I was being led to like a lost puppy by Y/N.

I stumbled in after Y/N into the archive room that was pitch black. They dropped their hold on my hand as soon as the door shut behind me making me grope around in the dark looking for some guidance. I heard the distinctive click and their skin was then illuminated by the glow of the singular lightbulb that hung in the center of the small room that Y/N turned on.

“Do you want this Spencer?” They said while strutting over slowly to me, I apprehend the offer of being able to back out but it was an offer I would definitely not be taking. As soon as my head nodded in agreement their mouth was on mine in the most blissful kiss I had ever had the pleasure of taking part in.

The taste of our tongues intermingling was overwhelmingly peach as I was finally able to get a taste of Y/N. Their movements were much more calculated compared to my sloppy desperate attempt to control the kiss. With practiced ease they dominated and I willfully surrendered to whatever Y/N wanted me to do to them. A shudder came into my bones as Y/N pressed me up into the nearest walland then untucked my shirt to run teasing little circles with their left hand over my hip bones.

The kiss was cut way too short in my opinion as they released my lips and then teasingly put their thumb into my mouth. I swirled my lips around their thumb with an intense pout, I tried to look as pitiful as possible, trying to coax them to stay right there with me. Unfortunately they pulled away from me altogether and then sauntered over to where the short filing cabinets were sat in the room, making my pout deepen further then I thought possible .

“Aww- don’t pout you’ll get what you want.” They said before leaving me, the mocking tone in their voice only making me pout harder. Any complaint I had  died in my throat when they pushed their pants and underwear down swiftly. They obviously had a better understanding of the fact that this tryst had to go quickly- and hopefully quietly. The closest filing cabinet to Y/N then became a prop for them to balance so they could bend over seductively. And with a simple crook of their finger I was over behind them ready to service them the best I could. My pants undone and pulled down enough to pull my cock out, jerking myself slightly so I was fully hard and ready to wrap them around me.

Wait. Was this really happening?

I questioned myself as I pushed into them from behind slowly wanting to savor every moment I had with Y/N wrapped around me and- also to also convince myself that this wasn’t a wild figment of my imagination. However, my long drawn out thrust was cut short by Y/N pushing their hips back against me taking me all the way down to the hilt. As soon as I was fully sheathed inside of them I started to rock my hips into theirs with little whimpers falling from my lips. If I had been in a different state of mind, one that wasn’t desperately trying to seek release, I would have probably flushed red in embarrassment at the noises I was making.

“Oh! Good Boy, Spencer.” They groaned out as I picked up the pace, my hands then briefly left their hips to pull them back so their back was flush against mine. The change in angle of my thrusts seemingly made Y/N’s pleasure skyrocket, the praises that they had been giving out to me being muddled down into moans that they muffled with their hand. I could tell their release was close when they let their head drop backwards into the crook of my neck and began to meet my thrusts vigorously.

A deep guttural groan came out of my chest as Y/N wound their other arm around behind them to tug on my hair as they came to their release. Pure bliss fell across Y/N’s face along with a lazy smile while they rode out the waves of their release. I kept rocking my hips forward to prolong their pleasure but my own release was beginning to brew within me.

Y/N reached behind to rest their hands on top of mine, they had been gripping into the sides of their hips roughly enough that there were sure to be bruises. They had me pull out, I almost thought they weren’t going to let me finish and began to beg with a long drawn out whine. Y/N flashed me another one of their devilish smirks, no doubt in response to my whimpers. Another pathetic beg slipped past my lips before my mind went completely blank as soon as they dropped to their knees.

“Fuck- Spencer I want you to fuck my face.” A sharp and sudden groan tore through me at their words, I swear Y/N was going to be the death of me. I bobbed my head up and down nodding as quick as I could, probably a little too eagerly but, I couldn’t find it within myself to care. “Like I said- you’ll get what you want.”

Y/N then spit in their hand and started to jerk me off slightly- I could honestly cum like this and be completely satisfied. But, then they moved forward and licked up the length of my shaft before slightly sucking on my tip.

The feeling of their mouth just enveloping my tip made me feel like I had died and gone to heaven.

Holy shit this was really happening.

A choked moan started to fall from my mouth before I quickly tried to stifle it by biting into my fist. My other hand was manipulated by Y/N to rest at the back of their head, a nonverbal queue to let me know I could start doing what they wanted and fuck their face.

The thrusts I started off with were quite soft and shallow, even though they had requested that I do this to them I still never wanted to hurt them.

I almost pulled them off of me when I heard a soft gagging as the tip of my dick hit the back of their throat, but they held their own throat down on me making a high pitched whine that didn’t sound like it could come from me came falling from my lips.

After getting the chance to fuck Y/N and now their mouth was around me, I was going to finish embarrassingly quickly. My thrusts started to falter, I could feel my release in the base of my spine, threatening to spill at any moment.

“W-where can I-” I tried to stutter out before finishing, though I failed miserably, my approaching orgasm stifling the words.

Luckily, Y/N understood perfectly and pulled off of me to answer, “I want you to cum on me my chest, face, neck- wherever you want.” A deep seated groan rumbled through my chest at their words while they jerked my length. Y/N worked kisses up my thighs bringing me teetering on the edge about to fall into a pool of euphoria. When they pressed a kiss to the tip of my cock I fell into my orgasm and became blinded by the pleasure. I was fortunately still able to keep my eyes open to see Y/N get covered with the fruits of their labor. It was a filthy sight that made my eyes widen and my pupils blow wider then they had ever been before.

A few moments passed as we both caught our breath, each for different reasons. My gaze was still fixated on how my release had fallen over Y/N. Specifically I fixated on the spot where some had fallen down their chest right down where the v of their shirt had been before- right where the juice had slid down.

“Well I should’ve thought this through more… I don’t have anything to clean myself up.” Y/N gasped out in giggles breaking out of the dominant role that they had fallen into earlier which broke me out of the daze I had been in. I looked at them with endearment, I loved every facet of Y/N’s personality.

“I-I’ll be right back I’ll find something.” I stuttered out while basically stumbling back into my clothes. Before tripping out of the room to try and locate some tissues I did my best to make myself appear presentable again, taming my curls, smoothing out my shirt, and tucking it back into my slacks.

“You forgot something.” Y/N called out to me just as I was about to scurry out. Still naked and unclean, they held my belt up by one finger and had a teasing little smile on their face that was nothing but trouble. I walked up and quickly snatched the belt back and began to loop them through my slacks. My head was tilted down, suddenly growing shy at the sight of Y/N even though I had been the one to make them look so depraved in the first place.

“Now come on Spencer, stop being so shy. You weren’t shy 2 minutes ago.” The way they bit their lip at the end of the teasing remark made me want to get down on my knees and worship them. Sadly, work was calling both of our names pulling us out of our own little world that we had created in this dark, small- and slightly dusty archive room.

I gained back a little bit of my lost confidence and moved forward to envelop Y/N in a kiss, one that was much softer than our previous ones. The taste of the kiss still felt like a drop of golden sun from the peaches, albeit tainted with something a little more salty now.

“You taste good.” I said with a shy but knowing smirk before biting my lip. “You look good too but- you also look like trouble.”

“Yes, but you quite like trouble” They remarked in amusement before shoving me closer to the door, “Go on now, I can't stay naked covered in your cum for the rest of the day.”

“It would be a pretty sight though.” I said cheekily, slipping out of the room quickly to avoid one of their shoes being thrown at me in fake annoyance. As I left the room to hunt down something to clean Y/N up so we could go about the rest of our work day I came to a conclusion.

I quite enjoy trouble- and peaches.

[sweetsbfreex]

you’re amazing, don’t worry

A few days before you were laying in bed. Harry laid on his back, while you were on your side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his chest. Watching the television displayed on the wall. 

“Can we talk about something before we both doze off?” he asked quietly, his arm going lazily up and down your arm. 

“Sure” you replied sitting up, crossing your legs. While Harry also sat up, pausing the tv too. 

“I know we’ve talked about it a few times, but I think we should go public” he said quickly, which is something when you’re speaking about Harry.

“You- you wanna go public, like let everyone know we’re dating?”

“Yeah I mean, you know the movie premiere is this weekend and I really want to walk the red carpet with you by me” he stated, reaching for your hand in the midst of it. 

“H-”

“I know, I know baby, but I think this could be the perfect time. We can get it over with” he said shuffling closer “I could finally show my girl off to everyone hm?” placing his palm on your cheek, thumb grazing the apex of your cheek. 

You loved Harry; you really did. He is your person, but you just weren’t sure about this. Having to put up with your social anxiety, big events, crowded places, and new people just weren’t your thing. You remember the first time you had met the band, a fidgeting mess, was all you were. 

The door opened to his studio, a smiling, giddy Harry on the other side. You however, were the complete opposite. Your stomach was a mess and your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the rings on your fingers or the necklace around your neck.

Harry could see from the doorway, pulling you into a bone crushing hug (letting the door close behind him) filled with love, whispering into your ears words to affirm you. “Hi, you’re amazing, don't worry,” he said kissing, your lips.

You smiled up at him showing your thanks, clasping your hands together “Thank you...Oh also can you let the lady in the front office know I said good morning back, my voice just wouldn’t project,” you whispered the last part, earning a chuckle from Harry. 

“Yes I'll do it, you about ready to meet everyone” he asked, looking down at you, concern displayed on his face from the way his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Can we just stand out here for a bit” you asked. 

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready. I promise they're not as bad as I make them seem” he says grinning, as he brings his hands put to clasp your face, setting kisses to your forehead. 

When you were finally ready, Harry opened the door, your hand holding onto his tightly, as you trailed behind him. 

‘Am I walking funnily? No you’re fine just don't trip or anything’ you tell yourself, breathing a deep breath in holding it and letting it go. 

“Lads this is y/n!” he pronounced elatedly, stepping to the side so you would be in view, looking down at you tranquil. You could see, looking back a thin briefly the crinkles around his eyes were striking and his dimples deep. 

“baby, this is Mitch, Sarah, you already know Jeff, Ny Oh, Adam, and Charlotte”. You knew Mitch was a man of not many words, so you weren’t too worried about conversing with him.

‘don't sound stupid, don't sound stupid, don't sound...’

A variety of heys were thrown at you from everybody in, you squeaked out a hi hoping everyone had heard and a wave. 

Harry had then pulled you both to sit down in one of the free spaces of the couches resting against the walls of the studio. 

“So y/n, H says your interning at Pinterest, that’s really cool” Sarah says

“Oh yea..Uh, I just look at a bunch of numbers and statistics, nothing too fun” you say, your voice wavering. But inside you could swear your heart was doing cartwheels when you had realized Harry talks about you to his friends. 

“I don't think it’s boring, she’s brilliant, she looks at all these gigantic numbers and comes up with these summaries, it’s amazing” Harry parades, wrapping his arm around your torso.

“Thank you H” you murmur, your cheeks heating up. 

As the time continued before you had to go. There was a lot of Harry intervening because you weren’t really sure what to ask or say, too on the fence of not embarrassing yourself in front of his friends, but luckily as time went on things had gotten better, to the point you didn’t break down before hanging out with any of them. 

“But all those people bub and the cameras, I don’t know, my anxie-”

“I know I can’t control it, but I’ll be there with you the whole time. You don’t even have to tell me your answer right now, whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Yea, thank you” you say. Getting up to stand on your knees, pulling Harry into a hug. A breath of relief coursing all over you. 

“You don’t have to thank me, petal, just want you comfortable”

                                                          -

Now here you were getting ready for the event, sporting a beautiful black dress that had an ascending slit running up the side of the dress. 

“You look beautiful, angel” harry gushed walking over to you, taking your hand as he guided you to do a quick twirl “very easy on the eyes” using that same hand to stop your twirl and instead pull you into him, stationing his second on the curve of your ass. 

“Are you sure if you’re having any doubts it’s ok” he repeated for the umpteenth time. You don’t mean to sound the way you do, you were grateful of course for how caring and understanding he is.

But ever since you had told him yes, he’d check every day till now, just to see if you were sure, reassuring you that he wouldn't be mad if you change your mind, etc. 

“Harry-”

“I know I know, but I also know that you don’t like thinking that you're disappointing me”

“I hate you,” you mumble, bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder, hating and loving the fact that he knew you so well, you could barely hide anything if you wanted to, but he couldn’t either. 

“Mhm” he hummed, grinning down at your distraught stance.

You brought your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him for reassurance “I promise I'm fine, it’s okay”

                                                           -

This was not okay, you should’ve listened to Harry.

Now in the limo, on the way to the event, it was you, Harry, the band, Jeff, and his girlfriend–Glenne. 

Your foot tapped arrhythmic, both hands tightly clasped around one of Harry’s. It felt like you were going down a really really really high rollercoaster, with how your stomach was twisted a never-ending knot of wires. 

fuck, did it really hurt. 

“Love are you sure you’re okay?” 

“mhm” you responded, nodding quickly letting go of the tense hold you had on Harry’s hand. 

Conversation was flying around you, but you couldn't find yourself to join in with how into your head you were. Thought after thought flying high and low, some doubtful, some embarrassing, and some down right annoying. But you couldn’t help it. What if you had something in your teeth, or you stood awkward, or you trip just walking down the carpet (over nothing which would be even worse). 

God, you were a mess. And the intense analyzing look Harry was giving you was not helping. 

“Okay we’re here guys!” Jeff let out, clapping his hands together a singular time, while everyone else let out their excitement. 

‘When did the car stop?!’

Jeff was the first to get out, everyone else following suit until you were the only one. Looking up from your seat near the door, Harry stood outside, hand reaching out towards you. 

“You ready love?”

You could feel your throat clogging up from those words, the wires in your stomach only getting tighter by the second and in seconds your trembling hands were reaching up to wipe the tears running down your cheeks. Staring at all the interviewers with mics standing to the side of the carpet, the barricade holding back fans, and all the other people strutting their way down the carpet you weren’t sure you could handle all the eyes that would possibly be on you. 

“I- I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry H, 

I thought I could. I can't. I'm so sorry” you rambled, sniffling time to time. Finally looking up into Harry’s sad eyes, you also caught the glance of everyone else who looked at you with solace. 

“shh shh,” he started, passing through the door again to sit adjacent to you, quickly clasping your face in his, using his thumbs to brush away the never-ending tears. 

Your makeup was ruined, nose a debacle, as you tried bringing yourself together, but that didn't seem to work as you only began to hyperventilate. 

“Oh y/n” he said, bringing your head to lay on his chest, grabbing the handkerchief to wipe away at your runny nose. “Mate we’re gonna head out, Jeff let whoever needs to know it was an emergency or something, please,” he asked Jeff, awaiting his response until he could finally close the door which he did quickly.

“No no Harry you can't miss this, please I’ll just go home, it’s fine”

“it’s not fine, I'd have to be out of my mind to leave you like this, petal, it’s okay I'm not mad I promise” he reassured. 

On the way to his place the tears never stopped, thinking of how you had not only embarrassed yourself, but Harry too. 

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry H,” you cried into his chest, even his expensive suit you were messing up, this night could only get better. Only getting a hush and words of reassurance from Harry. 

                                                           -

You were laying on his bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through twitter. You knew this would happen, but you were just hoping by some miracle it wouldn't have, that maybe you’d finally reign control. Harry was in the closet putting on his sweats, and also fetching your makeup remover and clothes for the night. 

Harry Styles Ditched his OWN Premiere?!

What Happened to Harry Styles Tonight?

And last, but not least 

Harry Styles and Mystery Girl!, A picture of you and Harry in the limo, thankfully your face covered as it was pulled into Harry’s chest protectively. And another exactly like it, only difference is Harry’s distraught face was shown looking up at Jeff’s. 

“You shouldn’t be reading that rubbish,” his deep voice takes you by surprise, looking up as he stood in front of you. Your clothes in one hand and cotton pads and your make up remover in another. 

“I know” you mumble. “I couldn’t help myself”

“Do you want to get dressed, and we talk afterwards”

“Yeah” you say grasping the pile of clothes from his palm. Setting them on the bed as you stripped and changed there. Once you were done, you climbed on the bed sitting across from Harry who had just finished dabbing some of the liquid into two cotton pads, handing you the other one. 

You started removing the mascara and eye shadow, since they were sensitive, while Harry began wiping down your cheek.

“I'm sorry I embarrassed you, H”

He stopped his actions, dropping his hand away from your face. His eyebrows brought together and his mouth a line of what you could describe as disgust, but not likely, and one lip tucked up. 

“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, he grabs both your hands guiding you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddling his waist, wrapping both your arms over his neck. He sighed into your neck, bringing one hand to stroke the back of your head. “You didn’t embarrass me, baby, you reacted. You can’t help it, and I would never hold that against you, Yea?”

You nodded meekly in response. 

“I’m proud that you even tried to begin with, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have forced you to go.” he says.

“Thank you... And it isn’t your fault, you didn’t force me to go. Just...I don’t know. All those people H, what if someone figures out it’s me. Now everyone will see me crying like a baby, it’s even worse that your friends saw me like that.” you sniffle. 

“I know I can’t magically fix this, but I promise you don’t even have to worry about them. They understand and won’t bring it up” he says trying to reassure you. 

“And if the public figures out it’s me, that’s a terrible first expression” you chuckle lowly.

Harry let’s a small laugh come out in return, grasping your face to pull you closer. “We’ll get to it, if it happens...how about after we get ready for bed, we go drive around a bit. Would that help a little?” he asks, eyes overflowing in empathy. 

“Yes please. Thank you again. I love you” you answer sniffling a small smile upon your face.

“I love you so much more”, he says bringing you in for a cuddle.

“We’re not starting this again” you grumble into his chest, receiving a giggle from him.

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 9

Summary: Erik and Wanda have a little talk

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Interrupted

After Erik left his son’s room, he decided to walk back to where he had been before. Charles was still in the library, reading the same book. He glanced up as he saw him enter.

“How did it go?”

“Wanda tried a spell and it backfired. Neither of them told me what it was but they both seemed shaken.” He sighed as he sat down on the sofa in front of his friend. “I just wish Peter would talk to me, it’s clear he’s not coping well.”

The bald man nodded. “You’re right, I might not be able to see in his mind, but what he felt just now was bone chilling terror. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt from him.”

That was worrisome. If the telepath hadn’t sensed anything similar to what happened just now in the whole year Peter had been in the mansion, that meant that whatever he saw must have been horrible. Especially considering how close he had been to die when En Sabah Nur broke his leg and almost killed him. There was no doubt that he must have quite the nightmares after that experience.

“Charles, I can’t help, but think that Peter really has changed.”

The man frowned at him. “What do you mean, old friend?”

He sighed as he looked pensively at the floor, trying to sort his thoughts. “I know that he’s physically fine, but he’s been acting different ever since we saved him from that place.”

“I understand, he hasn’t been as reckless since he came back. It seems his experience made him mature.” The telepath pressed his lips together. “But I’m not the person you should tell that.”

Erik nodded, “yes, but every time I try to talk to him, he pushes me away. He denies every nightmare and every sudden memory flash. Peter doesn’t seem to trust me.”

Charles watched him for a few seconds, probably wondering if he should say whatever he was thinking. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s always someone else you can talk to.”

“No.”

The wheelchair bound man put a hand on his and gave him a serious soul piercing stare. “Erik, she is the one that started everything in the first place, she has answers no one else knows. You have to talk to Wanda.”

The telepath didn’t give him time to protest, he simply left the room. Erik was speechless for a few seconds before he started thinking about what Charles had said. He was, as usual, right, but he didn’t feel ready yet to talk to the woman. Especially since what had just happened in Peter’s room. Erik sighed as he contemplated the flames in the fireplace; he knew what had to be done, but he didn’t want to do it. Not tonight at least, not after the confession he just told them.

...

It had been about five days since he had made the decision to eventually talk to Wanda. Erik felt ready, he had to confront her. He waited until everyone was in bed before knocking on the woman’s door. She opened it and her eyes widened in confusion as she took him in.

“Hi?” She said, hesitantly. “Can I help? Is it Peter?”

Erik shook his head. “No, I’m here to have a conversation that is long overdue.”

The redhead nodded in understanding and opened her door all the way, letting him in. The room wasn’t all that personalized, but he did spot a picture of her, Vision, Peter, and the twins smiling at the camera. It was on the table next to her bed. He figured she had conjured it as a way to remember them. She sat down on her bed as he pulled out her desk chair. Her body language screamed anxiety as she kept pressing her lips together and readjusting her position. Finally, she spoke up.

“Erik, I know I haven’t said it before, but I’m so sorry for what I did. To you, to your team and Peter. It was wrong and I should’ve controlled my grief better.”

The man gave her a small nod, “thank you, it truly wasn’t a fun experience. As for your grief, I did mean it when I said we were similar. I hunted down the man who used me as his lab rat for years, killing every Nazis I could find, and I allied myself with a powerful mutant that wanted to destroy the world when my wife and daughter died. I’m afraid I know all too well why you reacted that way; even if I don’t agree with what you did.”

After he was done, neither of them talked for about a minute. Both probably trying to figure out what to say next. Erik spoke first.

“Did you feel bad, at least?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air. “Putting my son back under mind control? Living with the fact that you were lying to yourself?”

He could see how Wanda tensed up, but he didn’t care, he wanted to know. The redhead slowly nodded. “Yes, I did,” she fiddled with her bedcover, not looking at him. “I had many intrusive thoughts that kept reminding me of what I did. But I was so distressed about losing my brot-“ she quickly glanced at him, “-Peter, that I ignored them.”

He sighed at how she cut herself off, “Wanda, it’s alright if you consider yourself siblings. You are, in a way. I saw the bond you two shared when you went trick or treating. And I’m glad you were aware that your actions were wrong and that you freed him in the end.”

The woman squeezed her eyes and her features twisted in guilt. “Yes, but I wanted to keep him,” she sobbed. “Even as I removed the necklace, I had to keep myself from putting it back on.” The redhead was now crying, tears quickly running down her cheeks. “I’m glad to be here, but it’s a struggle to not want to put things back the way they were. I miss my family.”

Erik acted without thinking and took the woman in a hug, surprising them both. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but it seemed to help her as she sobbed on his shoulder. A question popped into his mind, it was a stupid and hurtful one, but he had to ask.

“If you could have your brother back, would you choose him over my son?”

Wanda’s breath hitched as she heard him, she removed herself from his arms and looked at him with puffy eyes. “I- yes, but I cannot see a future without Peter at my side. I would probably try to have them both.” She chuckled sadly, “we could be the Maximoff triplets.”

He smirked at her suggestion; one speedster was already a lot. Not sure the world could handle two. Wanda suddenly stiffened and stilled for a few seconds. Her eyes were unfocused, something Charles usually did when someone was contacting him mentally. She finally moved again and turned to him.

“We have to go, something’s wrong with Peter.”

He didn’t protest and followed her as she passed through the halls. She was going as fast as she could without waking up anyone.

They could hear some noise coming from the speedster’s room. When they opened the door, they were greeted with a messy bed and a silver blur that kept going around the room. Everything that was on his path met an unfortunate end as his superspeed literally tore through it. Wanda entered the room first, unsure of what to do, but wanting to help in any way. Peter stopped in his track as he started looking around wildly. His eyes were filled with fear and panic. It was clear he was experiencing a nightmare and some sort of sleep walking.

“Peter,” called out the redhead, “what’s going on?”

The speedster swiftly turned his head towards her.

“Trebuie să ne ascundem!”

Erik froze as Peter suddenly took Wanda’s hand and brought them both under his bed. He was certain his son didn’t speak Romanian, even in sleep he still had an accent. Still there he was, telling the redhead they had to hide.

His eyes were locked unto an unseen something that was a few feet away, almost in his face. His face was twisted in fear as he kept holding Wanda’s hand; either in a way of comfort or to keep her with him he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both. Erik called out his son’s name, trying to make him realize it was only a dream. Only, he didn’t react and kept flinching every few seconds as whatever he was hearing. Wanda squeezed his hand, but he kept his eyes on the spot in front of them.

“Peter,” she said. He didn’t react to his name. Wanda seemed to realize something as she frowned in worry. “Pietro.” The speedster turned to her. “It’s alright, frate, it’s only a nightmare.”

Her voice was thick with her accent, something that he hadn’t seen her use before. Erik watched as the pair talked, both of them trying to reason with the other. Both in Romanian. Wanda finally brought a hand to Peter’s head and a flick of red filled his eyes. He seemed to suddenly relax, and he fell back asleep, still under the bed. The woman slowly removed herself from his side and shared a worried look with Erik.

“I can’t wake him up suddenly, his mind is too fast, it could hurt him.” She motioned him closer, intending to have him help her get Peter back to his bed. “He’ll wake up naturally in a few minutes.”

They slowly pulled him out and laid him down. His face was relaxed, there was no hint of the panic he had felt just a moment ago. Erik watched him sleep for a few seconds before turning to the woman.

“What happened?”

Wanda’s hand was brushing Peter’s face in a soothing motion. “That... wasn’t just a nightmare.” She looked at him, “that was one of Pietro’s memories.”

Erik turned to her with accusation in his eyes. “You have to remove them! Why does he still have them in the first place?”

She froze at his sudden anger, her eyes flickered between him and his son. “He- Peter didn’t want another person messing with his mind, I respected his wishes,” snapped Wanda. She breathed in, “I’ll see what I can do, but he has to be awake.”

As if on cue, the speedster groaned, complaining about the noise. Erik smirked as he muttered something about them yelling someplace else than his room. The particularity of the situation must have settled in his brain because he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at them in confusion. “Uh... hi? Any reason why you decided to settle your differences in my bedroom instead of, I don’t know... the danger room?”

Erik felt relief at the fact that it really was Peter, at least he didn’t wake up thinking he was Pietro. Wanda approached him with caution and took his hands.

“You had a nightmare.”

He suddenly tensed up and lowered his gaze. “Ah... you heard that.”

Peter wasn’t asking, that was a statement. Erik wasn’t sure how to react, it was obvious by what he had just said that his son had been having more nightmares than he let on. He doubted that singing to him like he did to Nina when she had a bad dream would do much. Especially since they weren’t just nightmares, they were actual memories of his alternate dead self.

“How long have you had them? Why wasn’t I aware?” Questioned Wanda, understandably shaken by the situation.

“Like I’ve explained before,” started Peter, “people don’t just get into my mind. And I suppose you’re usually asleep when it happens.”

In true Peter fashion, he was trying to shrug it off as nothing. But they wouldn’t let it slide, after what Erik had seen from the many files at SWORD, their lives had been riddled with war and trauma. But what they had just witnessed, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He turned to the woman.

“Show me,” Wanda looked at him confusedly. “What he saw, I want to understand.”

Peter suddenly straightened up in his bed. “Dad, I really don’t think-“

“I’m doing it,” he interrupted. He shared a look with Wanda, who gave him a quick nod. A red light glowed from her fingertips and she brought them to his temple.

Erik was immediately seized by a strong explosion. He turned to see two children on the ground, laying amongst the rubble. The little girl was pushing herself up in disbelief as she took in the destroyed building that surrounded them. While they both had dark brown hair, it was obvious they were Wanda and Pietro. There was a strong burnt smell in the air mixed with the metallic smell of blood. The girl was calling out to their parents as the ashes fell in her hair. She went to take a step, but her brother stopped her. He grabbed her hand and ran under the skeletal remain of the bed. The children were arguing about having to leave, but they were interrupted when a second bomb landed right in front of them. Erik gasped as he realized what Peter had been staring at when he himself was hiding under the bed. There was a beeping every few seconds. Erik watched as everything sped up, showing the children slowly starve and flinch at every noise that was heard. They were finally rescued, but it was obvious they were not alright. They clung to each other like their lives depended on it. The vision faded and Erik was back to Peter’s room. The pair was looking at him worryingly, waiting for the man to talk.

He first looked at Wanda, “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he apologized. He then turned to his son, “this is what you saw?”

The speedster nodded, “yes, that was tonight’s nightmare.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, “tonight?”

Peter flinched; it was obvious he didn’t mean to share so much. Why was his son so keen on keeping everything to himself? The speedster shared a look with Wanda, “I have Pietro’s entire life stored in my head.” He cleared his throat. “It was simple in Westview, I only had them. Ever since I’m back to myself, it’s a constant fight between my life and his.”

Wanda covered her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry,” her eyes were wide in shock. She sat next to him, “please let me help.”

She brought up a hand to his head. He seemed to want to push her away, but ultimately let her continue. Her fingertips glowed red once again and Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the red swirled around his head. Erik watched as both the adults seemed to sync in their little tics and twitches. Both jerking their heads and frowning at nearly the same time. Wanda was the first one to open her eyes and she met his gaze with an apologizing look. Peter’s eyes finally opened, though he seemed slightly dizzy.

“Did it work?” He knew it was stupid to ask, the redhead was obviously trying to hint at him that it hadn’t worked. But then again, he had been clueless to his true lineage with Peter. Which was really obvious when you thought about it seriously for a few minutes.

The woman shook her head. “I don’t understand it, the memories are mixed together. I can’t remove anything without a high risk of erasing some of his real memories.”

“So…” spoke up Peter. “I’m stuck with them forever?”

“I’m afraid so,” apologized Wanda.

Erik took a few steps forward, considering the consequences of his son’s situation. He hadn’t met anyone with a double set of memories. Even less of someone with those of their alternate dead self. The closest he had as a reference was Charles. With the number of minds, he sometimes accidently and purposely read, he was a little similar to what Peter was going through. He did remember the telepath complaining about nightmares and having trouble sleeping occasionally, but he seemed to be doing better recently. Perhaps the man could teach Peter some tricks? But there was one thing that was still on his mind.

“How will this affect him?” Both of them turned to him. “What if his nightmares get the best of him and he eventually doesn’t know which memories and his and Pietro’s? What if your brother’s memories eventually replace his actual memories?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, dad,” reassured Peter. “I know which memories are mine. There’s significantly less war and trauma in my life.”

Wanda waved a hand into the air and a notebook appeared out of nowhere. She had a worried frown on her face as she handed it to him. “Please try to fill in as much as you can. I’ll be able to know which are which.”

The speedster’s expression showed how he didn’t think it was necessary, but he took the notebook, nonetheless. He put it on the desk next to his bed and looked around for a few awkward seconds before speaking up.

“So, I know you guys are badass and powerful and probably don’t need that much sleep because of some freaky mutation, but I do. Not that much, but the twenty minutes I got before you barged in, are definitely not enough.”

Wanda smiled in amusement and gave him a quick hug before leaving the room. Erik walked over to his son who was slowly settling back into his bed. He pulled the cover over him, Peter didn’t protest, either because he didn’t mind, or he was too tired to care.

“I can’t believe it’s my first time tucking you in,” Erik joked.

The speedster chuckled before mumbling something and burying his head in his pillow. The metal wielder smirked as he heard the man lightly snore, already asleep. He brushed a hand in his silver hair before walking out the room and closing the door behind him. He mentally called out to Charles, hoping the man wasn’t asleep yet.

“I’m in my office,” came his friend’s voice.

Erik quickly headed towards the telepath’s position. He made an effort to try to open the door silently, but that door obviously didn’t care that people were sleeping. Then again, seeing how the telepath perked up his head to greet him, it might have been on purpose.

“You talked to Wanda?”

Right, his discussion with Wanda. That felt so far away now. “I did, but we have another problem.”

“Oh?”

“Peter and Pietro’s memories have mixed together. Wanda heard his distress and we found him reliving one of his alternate self’s traumatic event.” He looked at the man, who was intensely staring at him. His eyes were filled with concern as he listened. “I fear he might eventually lose himself if he doesn’t learn to control them.”

Charles nodded, “I’ll try to give him some tricks, but we have to keep in mind that my telepathy and his experience are barely the same thing.” The man looked up to see the worry in his eyes, he cleared his throat. “Still, it’s similar enough. I promise you, Erik, Peter will be just fine.”

With that, the man declared it was time for him to go to sleep. He closed the files he had on his desk and exited the room. Erik sighed as he repeated what the telepath had told him.

“Just fine…” he whispered. “Let’s hope you’re right, Charles.”

***

Notes: next chapter: Peter and Charles try to find a solution

[whimsywispsblog]

RED

A/N: ANGST! ANGSTTTT!

TW: Blood, gore, graphical descriptions of corpses, panic attacks

Chapter 2- Tears

Working with Hudson wasn't as bad as Rei thought it would be. Granted, he's one hell of a moody bastard, but atleast he let her have her peace instead of glaring at her with those predator eyes like Adler's.

"Mr Hudson! Who is Bell?" Hudson looked at Rei and glanced down at the file she was holding, a little spark of discomfort kindled in his eyes.

"He was one of Perseus' agents who we managed to brainwash using the MK-Ultra. He was the most succ-"

"Mk-Ultra?! I thought that was a myth!" Hudson rolled his eyes, irritated at the girl's sudden interruption. She muttered a small 'sorry', biting her lower lip. Gah, I'm an idiot. Control yourself, dammit.

"What happened to him?"

"He had to be killed." Rei's eyebrows knitted in confusion. Her face tilted slightly, in curiosity. Hudson sighed softly and sat up straight, readying himself to indulge in her curiosity.

"He was a loose end. He could turn his back anytime, we never know." Rei looked back at her file. It had a bloody handprint on it. She ran her hand over the handprint. "Who killed him?"

"His handler, Adler." Rei inhaled sharply. So, he is putting my life in the hands of a man who can kill a person mercilessly. Lovely. Rei started fidgeting with her necklace again- too many questions swirled in her mind. Can I trust Adler? What if he thinks of me as a loose end too? Is that why Hudson wanted him with me? He should never know about my fath-

"What's on your mind?" Hudson stared into her dark chocolate brown eyes. He could see several questions sprouting from her head.

"It's just...He doesn't seem like the kind of guy I would like to work with. He just feels too...too closed off. I don't know if I can trust him." Hudson's lips curled into a small smile. He expected this to happen. "Rei. If you're worried about Adler turning his back on you, remember this: Adler is responsible for you during the mission, after that you're under my wing. You won't be working with him as much as you will with me." Rei gave a small wry smile. I am definitely not the first person Hudson has convinced about Adler's trustworthiness and goodwill.

"Anyway, speaking of Adler, he will come in tomorrow. He will brief you more on Bell if you're interested." Her face dropped into a sullen expression. For one whole week, much to her happiness, the scary-looking Mr Shades never crossed paths with her. It was as if he disappeared into thin air. Where he was, what he was doing, she did not care for it- she just didn't want to meet him and she prayed to every single God to make it happen. For once, the Gods did listen to my prayers!

"And a word of advice: Try not to get into his bad books," Chewing her thumbnail unconsciously, Rei bombarded her head with several scenarios. Wait...he advised me. Does that mean- Oh God, I am already a red flag to him. Fuck.

"Okay. Thank you, Mr Hudson." Back to the theatrics again, huh.

"Also, your flight to West Berlin has been scheduled for tomorrow, 3 am. Don't miss it."

3am?! Goddamit Hudson! Rei dramatically banged her head against the table, earning a small chuckle from the older man.

-

"Is that all we have on her? Nothing more?" Adler asked Sims.

"Nope. That's all we have. She looks pretty innocent to me, Doc. I wouldn't worry about her if I were you." Adler kept skimming through Rei's file for the nth time in the week. He could find nothing about the girl, except whatever Hudson had told him.

"That's exactly what bothers me. It's always the innocent ones." Sims raised an eyebrow at Adler. He wasn't looking at him, he was looking elsewhere. Following his line of sight, Sims finally understood who he was staring at, or more like, glaring at. Rei Ivanov. When he looked closer, it wasn't Rei who was in his line of sight. It was the object that she held onto which Adler threw his fierce glare at.

She was busy playing with her pendant again and in her hands, she held the brown file with the bloody handprint. Bell's file. Stuffing the file into a little owl-shaped bag, the girl left Langely. Adler's eyes trailed after Rei for a bit, till she was out of the man's sight. Sighing deeply he walked back to the office.

"Ah should have got my favourite winter coat." The girl wriggled in her sweater dress uncomfortably.

Back in her home, she immediately rushed towards the kitchen for a cup of hot cocoa. It was a simple yet sophisticated home. Black sofas with pink rugs and fairy lights adorned on the walls. A few pictures of some of the places she had been to during her time as a War Correspondent was neatly arranged on top of the small fireplace that she lit up whenever she felt lonely. Today was one of those days.

Curling on one of the sofas with her favourite cat plushie in one hand and hot cocoa in the other, Rei stared at the fireplace, the fire blazing in its pristine orange. She slowly leaned back, closing her eyes lightly. A lone tear-drop fell off her eye as she slowly started to walk down the memory lane.

Fire.

Screaming.

Fire.

A smell of burnt flesh filled the air. The skin of the burnt victims almost melted away, bones painted with blood-red sticking out of the corpses. Little moths sat on top of the corpses, devouring the flesh. Limbs hanging from a tree or a broken pole, some corpses with a body part missing, others have their intestines splattered out. Suddenly, two bloodied hands engulfed her. Turning around, she saw a man without half a face- his inners sticking out.

Rei gasped for breath as she opened her eyes. She fell off her sofa, her coca spilt on her expensive rug. She couldn't breathe- there was a pain in her chest. Clenching her chest, Rei tried to crawl towards the phone, but she couldn't move. She cried and cried- her tears flowed endlessly from her big doe-like eyes.

"Stop crying. Stop crying." She whispered to herself, slowly focusing on her breathing- her therapist's advice. That did the trick. It took her a good 15 minutes to recover from her sudden breakdown- one she had every night. She looked up at the clock. It was 4 hours to 3 am.

"I should pack, then leave. The maid can clean my rug." She muttered to herself slowly, trying to stand up with the help of the handle of her sofa.

-

"In short, the flight was shit, I am sleepy and I am starving," Hudson chuckled at Rei's extremely irritates answer. He had agreed to pick up Rei, thankfully, and brought her some food too, a sub with a nice cup of hot cocoa.

"How did you know I love cocoa?" Hudson smirked lightly, his eyes glued to the road.

"I am an agent for a reason, Rei." Rei rolled her eyes at the very vague reply. She continued munching on her sub, hungrily and trying to not make a mess in his car, which was extremely difficult for the poor girl.

After a very boring and painful two hours of travel, including pestering Hudson every five minutes with the question 'Are we there yet?'; the duo finally arrived at the safehouse. It was a big rusty monstrous building. It did have an eerie aura to it. Rei looked around the safehouse- it was just a green barren land.

"Come on in Rei, I want you to meet someone." A wave of social anxiety splashed over Rei as she awkwardly walked into the safehouse. Her nails dug deep into the soft flesh of her thumb and her teeth bit into her inner lips, drawing a little blood from the force.

"This is Helen Park, from MI6. She will be the one who will help you around with cross-referencing any intel we get." MI6! She's British, then? Must be an old acquaintance of the team.

Helen was a beautiful woman. She had a certain light charisma that radiated from her- one that was hard not to ignore. She did seem like a person one would immediately open their hearts out to- maybe because of her friendly and warm aura that was strikingly different from Hudson's and Adler's cold aura. Especially Adler's dark and unfriendly one. Rei shuddered at the thought of her first meeting with Adler lightly, but lucky for her, both the agents never noticed it.

Putting on her famous charming smile, Rei politely introduced herself to her, overemphasising her innocent exterior. Atleast my innocent face should keep me out of trouble. She hoped. And just as she hoped, Park did take in her innocent act. Good job Rei!

"Alright time for work," Hudson shouted out to the women. While Hudson was busy talking to Park about some meeting that should happen later, the evidence board had a picture of an old man in black and white, with a few red strings connecting him to other pictures that caught Rei's eye. Perseus.

"Rei, go to that room, there are a few files there. Try to piece together whatever you can. Park, you know what to do." Rei nodded, walking towards the room that Hudson had pointed out to.

It was a dark and dusty room. Cold too. Rei placed her bag on her table and fished through it. She pulled out a few papers that she had kept in her bag. They were some information about the operational Gulags and another tattered picture.

Thank you Rebecca for pulling those strings.

Rebecca, a close friend of Rei's was one woman who could pull several strings to get any amount of information. She knew quite a lot of people in the CIA- a few of them high up the food chain. She got Rei whatever she could get her hands on about the Gulags. And a small photograph of someone by the name Victor Kuzmin.

Taking the files Hudson had asked her to study, Rei kept them in front, the papers of the Gulag and Victor on her lap. "Okay! Time to start my reading on these. Maybe after my homework, I can casually pick a conversation with Hudson about the Gulag. No, maybe not Hudson." Rei kept trying to break her head over who to approach for the info about any recent survivors from the Gulag, but then there would be a high chance that she would be suspected, not to mention, her last name itself would have definitely raised a lot of eyebrows. Especially Adler's antennas, no doubt.

"Interesting, you're into Gulags." That dark gravelly voice. Adler. How the fuck did I not see him come in! Now he's definitely going to doubt me.

"Nice necklace," He exhaled his smoke, closing the door behind him, walking towards the young girl. The girl prayed and invoked all the Gods- old and new-to help her get out of the situation alive and unharmed.

"Ah yes. They pluck on my imagination- the whole setting of it. Quite poetic too- darkly poetic if someone were to write about, you know, a survivor who's been rotting in there for years, now out of the hellhole ready to-" Rei stopped herself immediately. I should have just stopped with poetic. Now he definitely thinks I'm looking for someone and from the looks of it, he might as well think I'm one of them.

"Mhmm. True." He walked closer to Rei, standing right next to her.

"A few days back a certain someone, a sort of a ghost from my past who I believe was rotting in the Gulag, escaped from there. Intel has it that he's one of Perseus'." He now said, looking at the tattered picture of Victor Kuzmin below the papers of the Gulag. Ah. So it was him who escaped.

Rei kept her expressionless facade on. On the inside, she was breaking and churning in fear and panic. She put on her innocent smile with big eyes. "Ah. How unfortunate. I hope you get him soon." Adler kept his steady glare at the girl, a scowl now forming. Sensing the tension, Rei's first instinct was to leave before she accidentally slipped something else, which will be interpreted as further something else by Adler.

"Uhm. It is late. I should get back to my apartment." She tried to slip away from Adler, but he caught her arm, his fingers deeply dug in her skin. The girl slightly winced in pain, looking up at the older man. "Hudson trusts you, but I don't. If I catch you stepping out of the line again, I will kill you."

The girl now put on her bitter face. When the hell did I step out of the line, asshole?! She couldn't stand his arrogance anymore. "And maybe you should try and keep your nose off my life." Never in a million years did she realise that she would regret the words that fell of her mouth. Fool! He's a fucking spy!

"You forget who I am Ivanov. I run the show here." His eyes glanced at the red necklace. Grabbing the pendant to his eye level, he looked back at her. "I won't be surprised if you turn out to be one of them. Advice: If you are, don't let me catch you."

Rei scoffed at the man. "And what, you're little threat is supposed to make my knees go all wobbly and make my lips quiver in fear?"

"They are already wobbly, Ivanov." This man's ego...

"Wobbly out of anger! And I would like to be called Rei if you please!" The girl darkly growled at him, earning a sharper glare from the man.

"Fucking brat," Adler muttered, letting the girl go. Once he was gone, she immediately rushed to the washroom nearby, locking it from the inside. Uncontrolled tears rolled down her eyes. Never had she been this intimidated by anyone in her life. And he is the guy I am supposed to work with. Thanks, Hudson.

Outside the safehouse, Adler lit up another cigarette.

"Weaver, I need you to look upon someone for me. Her name's Rei Ivanov. Also, see if you can find someone in the Gulag by the name 'Ivanov'."

"Alright. I will see what I can get, Adler." Adler ended his call. Looking back up at the skies, he tried to mentally chart a connection between Rei and Stitch, but he could make none.

"Who is she and who exactly is she searching for?" Adler ran a hand over his chin, deep in thought.

[angelaiswriting]

25 | (JATP) Alex & twin!sister!Nancy

✏️ Pairing (sorta, but not really): Alex & twin!sister!Nancy

✏️ Summary: It’s been twenty-five years, but Nance is still mourning the deaths of her brother and her friends. Life hasn’t exactly been going in the right direction since 1995 — it never has, though, ever since she has memory — but little does she know her daughter Sarah is about to find out that Uncle Alex and Sunset Curve are back as ghosts and playing with an old school friend. (Not requested)

✏️ A/N: Many thanks to @themazeskies for introducing me to this fandom ✌🏻 this story def wouldn’t be here without you. (Thank you for feeding my need for angst!) To the rest of y’all: enjoy! Angie and I sort of created a little universe of events and stuff with these characters, so if you wanna read more, just let me know. 🥰

✏️ Warnings: sad/angst (but also fluff? if you squint?); mentions of death (but that’s the show?); slight hint to a past use of drugs.

✏️ Notes: flashbacks in italics; lyrics in bold and italics.

✏️ Word Count: 6,472

It happens suddenly. One day she’s… normal, one would say — doing her things, carrying on with her life, helping her daughter prepare her things to leave home as soon as high school ends — and the next she’s whole again.

She hasn’t felt that kind of whole in twenty-five years.

Alex used to call it their twin link, back in the day, when putting up with their parents and their falling-out marriage seemed to be the worst thing they had to endure. Lex… 

There’s a treacherous tear running down her cheek and when her brain registers it, it’s almost too late. She feels it on her jaw, threatening to fall down onto the test she’s grading. Her mind almost anticipates what’s about to happen — the tear will dangle from her jaw for a moment, and then it’ll eventually land onto one of the words one of her students wrote, and it will stain it. But her hand is quicker, and it wipes that tear away before it’s too late.

Twenty-five years.

Her throat knots up with the tears she has been trying so hard not to shed. The anniversary of his death is coming up quickly, and with a son off at college and a toxic ex-husband still fighting to spill money out of her, she feels the loneliness and the weight of it all even more. It’s in her limbs when she wakes up, and it stays perched on her shoulders throughout the day, until it’s finally time to go to bed. And to start it all over again.

She’s managed twenty-five years without him, so she reasons that she can manage twenty-five more — it’s not like she has a choice. She promised it, after all, too long ago to even remember when, exactly, but that was one of the things they had both promised each other — that they’d have a happy life; that they’d fight for it, no matter the cost, no matter where they’d be in the world, if together or if apart. Life had spinned the roulette and the ball had landed on apart, but that had been out of their control.

“Mom? Mom, are you listening?”

Sarah’s standing there, fingertips digging into the cushioned back of the couch — her baby girl now at the threshold of adulthood. Time really does fly in hindsight.

“I said I’m taking Lex on a run,” she says, brows furrowing as she lets the dog’s leash dangle in her hold, almost as a way to catch her mother’s attention. “Are you okay? Did Dad call again? Do you want me to call Jake?”

She shakes her head and only then, when her gaze drops to the kitchen table, does she realize she’s been gripping onto the red pen in her left hand with more force than necessary. “I’m okay, just thinking. Don’t be too late, you still have school tomorrow.” And although that’s true, her voice comes out soft and tired, and all of a sudden she knows tears are about to come. “Have fun,” she adds before her daughter can speak.

A pet to Lex’s furry head, and the dog has sprinted into a messy run towards the entrance door.

“You know you can talk to me.” Sarah’s standing in the corridor, but her head is poking into the room, a hand gripping the door frame. It’s a weird sight, albeit not unfamiliar — a boy her age, blonde hair much shorter, a happy smile on his lips, she’s seen that pose a million times in a past life. “If it’s about Uncle Alex…” There’s a long pause as the girl looks for the right words, goes over every possible ending she could come up with, but then settles for none. “You know it,” her daughter nods, and then she’s gone.

Unconsciously, she sits up straighter and strains her ears until she hears the front door open and close. Lex barks twice outside and through the open window of the living room, she can hear her daughter’s chuckle at the dog’s playfulness.

Then everything goes silent again and she’s left with that odd sensation in her soul. It’s nothing she can put her finger on, but it’s… there, and it’s something. Something she had never known she felt until that night, and something she hasn’t felt ever since. It knocks the wind out of her and as the pen falls onto the table, a sob tears its way up her throat.

It feels like home, in a way. It feels like being seventeen again — not the Zac Efron way, but it’s… again, something. Something so utterly absurd that she’s this close to slapping a hand against her forehead, but that hand just ends up clamping down onto her mouth when she feels another sob coming.

She feels the sobs more than she does the tears. They seem to shake her from the inside out — and not just from there, but from her very soul. She tells herself it’s just the anniversary — and everything else in her life going both the wrong and the right way. Her marriage in shambles, and her kids off to college, leaving her with no one but the dog she rescued some five years ago at their spot.

It has to be that. It’s all catching up this year, after all. The twenty-fifth lap around the Sun, bringing back all the memories from that night, both at the Orpheum and then in that alley. Her ex-husband trying to shatter what’s left of her life after leaving her utterly heartbroken one too many times already. Sarah going off to nursing school when the school year ends; and Jake playing his uncle’s instrument with his friends from college.

The house already does feel empty, but right now it’s almost hollow. Hollow and silent, almost expanding to infinity as she tries her best to keep herself under check — and she fails.

“C’mon, you’ve already done this countless times,” but her voice shatters on the last syllable and her lower lip quivers, and for a moment she’s blind even behind her reading glasses. “Just breathe.”

But that just breathe doesn’t hit as well as her brother’s always did, it doesn’t calm her down. She’s left feeling like she’s whole again — and more than that, like she’s part of something bigger, of a two-for-the-price-of-one kind of deal. And as she makes her way upstairs, her knees aren’t the only part of her body trembling.

There’s an old shoebox on the top shelf of her closet. It’s been there ever since the beginning and through all the relocations her family has done since the unlucky day she moved in with Michael at eighteen. It’s a pale red by now, held closed by elastic bands of every color and they’re so many because when the memory of what’s inside makes her feel like she’s starting to crumble apart again, she adds one more in the desperate attempt to keep it sealed, to keep the past inside, hidden away, almost as though by doing so, she can keep every single one of those memories locked away in a dark and recondite corner of her mind.

But not today. Today she knows she has to open it. She feels it in her bones, and probably even deeper than that. And maybe it’s about time — just open the Pandora box and see what happens, or something like that. The tears are already there; she doesn’t see what else could come out of her hidden past that isn’t already there.

Taking the rubber bands off is the hardest part. One by one, it feels like ripping off a brick from the wall she has spent almost three decades building around herself. It’s exhausting and by the time she has reached the last rubber band — the last brick — she has no tears left to shed. But that’s good; it has the taste of liberation, like she’s finally free of a choker she didn’t know she was wearing.

Almost as a joke of fate, a velvety choker necklace is what welcomes her back to the 1990s when she takes the lid off. Black and simple, it used to be her favorite. It was her lucky charm necklace, something she had somehow ended up always wearing when her brother and his group were playing.

But the stack of photographs is still there, right underneath it, and it takes her endless minutes to convince herself to pick them up. She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting cross-legged on the floor for, but probably not as long as she thinks she has.

Her hand trembles when she picks up the first polaroid. And she feels it again, that lump of tears in the back of her throat, and then that sensation of absolute void and loneliness she has felt inside for so long.

The empty stage of the Orpheum would be unrecognizable to anyone that doesn’t know where the photo has been taken. It’s just a place like any other, but she can still feel the electricity in the atmosphere almost as though she was still there, stuck between those four walls like some sort of ghost.

She was laughing, and so was Alex. He had an arm around her shoulders, and she had one around his waist. As absurd as it could sound, to this day she can still smell him — he had a cheap perfume he wore at gigs, one he had treasured dearly, and all because it had been a present from her for their shared birthday. And that night they had been laughing because Reggie had almost tripped down the stage when Bobby had called him over.

The memory crashes over her like a wave. Luke had tried to silence their laughter to snap a good picture — and she’s sure there are better ones in that shoebox — but somehow this in particular is the one that bears the most meaning.

“Guys, please!” She can still hear her friend as clear as day, probably more clearly than she hears her students in class every day. “Can you please…

*

… please stop laughing? I’m tryna take a decent one here!”

“Sorry, bro,” but Alex is still laughing, and she is too, and in the hilarity of the moment, they end up pulling each other closer.

The flash goes off and as Luke flaps the polaroid picture, Alex gives her shoulder a squeeze before eventually turning serious.

“I’m glad you could come, Nance.” And although he’s smiling down at her from the height difference their twin bond hasn’t managed to level out, it’s clear from the look in his eyes that there’s something else lurking underneath the surface. It could be one of the billion things their parents have said — have spat out like venom in their usual style — but she can’t put a finger on one in particular.

“They can say and do whatever they want,” she says as she shakes her head. “You know that, Lex: it’s always been you above anyone else and always will be. I’d choose you in a heartbeat over them. You know I’ll always be front row for you.”

He heaves a sigh and leans his forehead against hers. His nerves are starting to act up — as usual before a performance, before he sits down and starts pouring his heart out on the drums — but she knows he’ll find his calm very soon.

“Just a little longer.” She tries to come off as reassuring, but there’s a pinch of fear — of the unknown, of failing, of having to go back — inside her at the plan they have come up with. “September is right behind the corner, then we’re both eighteen and out of that house for good. They won’t be able to stop either of us.”

“I know, I’m just… impatient.” He looks up when Bobby calls his name — they still have to rehearse their opening song for tonight. “I miss you when I’m not there, and I’m —”

“No need to be worried, Lex.” She pulls him into a side hug and breathes him in. And she doesn’t know it, not yet, but this will be the last time she’ll be able to do it. In her forties, she’ll still remember the way the fabric of his t-shirt felt against her cheek that night — soft and warm, smelling of the perfume she gave him on his last birthday; the way he playfully tugged on her braid, or how that chuckle ringed in the back of his throat. And even the way Reggie flirtingly called her just so that she would turn around. “Now go show them who’s best,” she chuckles, letting her brother go.

Watching them play always gives her a first-time kind of sensation, and there’s no stopping her from dancing around, just feeling the music. Now or Never is one of her favorite songs of theirs, and she just knows they’ll make it big. Landing a gig and playing at the Orpheum isn’t easy, but she’s looking at them — a bunch of seventeen-year olds, and she can’t but smile because they’ll hit the big time soon. Their own concerts, their own tours, no more sneaking around parents to play in a garage — but an actual career, with an actual label, and everything will be good.

And it’s almost exhilarating to know that they’re all willing to take her with them on their journey. It’s not like they’ll ever be able to get rid of Alex’s twin sister, not when they know how much they mean to each other, how important they are to each other as they wait to become of age. It’s the start of something big and she’s there with them, a bunch of kids she’s met almost by accident, and she can’t wait for tonight. The people, the Orpheum…

She jumps around, excited, and there’s nothing else. Not her parents’ venom towards Lex, not the billion and one problems at home, not even volleyball practice at school.

“Nancy!” She looks up when Reggie calls her name over Luke’s singing and when her eyes meet his, she realizes she’s tired of the endless and fruitless flirting and that she’d love to go to the school ball with him. “‘s one’s for you!” he grins, before joining the others in the chorus — Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, But live it like it’s now or never.

She cheers, and even the girl behind her giggles as she cleans one of the tables in preparation for tonight.

The one before her is a sight that would turn into a picture in her mind with time, a photogram that would never fade, would never age. Four friends living their dream — and it’s amazing to know that one of them is the person she cares about the most in the world. She looks at them and even at forty-two, she won’t be able to think back of Bobby with contempt as he stands on that stage.

It feels like finally being a part of something bigger than just herself, even if she’s standing on the sidelines, watching someone else living the dream. She’s there for that; she’s there for them, and she will always be, wherever that’ll take them —

— She doesn’t know that ‘wherever’ is a dirty couch in a back alley. Or an ambulance that will just arrive at its destination too late. Right now it’s the Orpheum first, and then something bigger and better in the future.

When the song is over, she’s the first to clap and whistle in an empty Orpheum Theater, excitement bubbling up inside her, making her blood buzz in her veins.

“You’re the only groopie that matters,” Reggie jokes, pulling her into his side after jumping down the stage. “I’d ask you out on a post-gig burger if it wasn’t for…”

They both turn to glance at her brother and see him climbing down the stairs to the side of the stage to get to them.

“Dream on, Reginald,” he says and she laughs.

“It’s just rehearsals but you guys were killing it up there,” she smiles, intertwining her fingers with her brother’s. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“And that you snuck out just to come and see us,” Bobby adds, a grin shyly stretching on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume she’s not just here for Alex!” Luke picks her up from behind, his arms wrapped tight around her waist as he spins her around.

“Put me down,” she laughs out of breath. “He’s my brother. Of course, he’s the number one reason I’m here,” she jokes.

When he eventually puts her down and they stare at each other chuckling as they catch their breaths, Reggie is the first to speak. “You’re like family to us,” he says, “you make everything else worth it.”

She smiles, through her breathlessness and the skin of her face heating up. “You guys are family for me as well.”

There’s not much silence then, not when the few workers present cheer on the guys, distracting them from the moment. She stands there, smiling softly at the bassist in front of her, and he smiles at her just as warmly.

“For the record,” she whispers, “I would have said yes to that post-gig burger.”

And he smiles, cheeks flushing pink before Luke’s Street dogs? distracts them.

She watches as they all agree — all but Bobby, for he ‘could never hurt an animal,’ as he tries to flirt with the slightly older waitress. Rose. She’s nice, and as Nancy’s found out while the boys were setting their stuff up on stage, she has a group of her own. And just as Rose has made her feel at home while she had sat all alone on one of the stools, Nance steps in to steer the guys away just after Reggie gifts her one of their t-shirts — size beautiful, and she’ll forever remember those two words with a smile on her face even years later.

“I’m sorry, they just don’t know when to stop with the flirting,” she smiles apologetically just before guiding Luke towards the exit door.

“You coming with us?”

“Later,” she nods, turning to face her brother as he’s pulling his jacket on. “I wanna make sure everything’s in order for tonight. This is your big chance, right?”

He nods. “I’ll wait for you.”

And she’ll forever regret ever speaking her next words. “Nah, it’s okay. You go on, I’ll reach you in five, ten at most. Just make sure there’s something left for me.” Twenty-five years later she still hears her own chuckle, still feels her brother’s warm cheek against her perpetually chapped lips as she presses a see-you-later kiss to his skin.

She watches him leave, and answers to his ‘see you later’ with a wave of her hand.

It’s almost unbelievable how cruel things are at times. You’re seventeen, sneaking around your parents, having fun with your brother and his friends, playing the piano for them every once in a while… and then suddenly the wheel of fortune spins again, and something as small and insignificant as a hot dog turns into a major plot point. The wind changes, and suddenly the colors start fading, the music turns fainter and fainter, until there’s nothing but static silence.

When she leaves the building fifteen minutes — and an unexpected call from home — later, all she’s in the mood for are hot dogs and her friends. She doesn’t know where Bobby has gone off to, but she doesn’t pay it much attention as she wraps herself into her hoodie.

The night air isn’t too chilly, but there’s something to it that brings goosebumps to her skin. She’s nauseous, and she doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s just got off the phone with her yelling mother, but she doesn’t care. They’re not going back home tonight anyway — little does she know that she won’t be going home for a completely different reason than just celebrating with her brother and the guys.

The man selling street dogs out of his car greets her with a smile before she walks past him to fix herself a quick dinner. She’ll never understand how they’re yet to catch some disease from the weird food they eat before gigs, but she won’t have much more time to wonder.

“The guys are inside,” he tells her when she hands him the price, and all she can do is thank him with a grin on her lips, her stomach closed into a knot, before making her way to the makeshift dining area.

She stops in the entryway and quickly glances around before she spots them on the couch. Luke and Alex seem to have fallen asleep, but Reggie’s staring back at her and she finds herself blushing.

“Won’t you finish your hot dog?” she asks as she walks up to them, a smile on her face that slowly leaves its place to a frown when the boy doesn’t answer, doesn’t react in any way.

It’s then that the nausea gets stronger, and somehow she’s not in the mood to eat anymore.

“Reg? Cat got your tongue?” She fails at that chuckle and when she’s close enough, she almost crouches forward to shake him by his shoulder. “Prank’s over, your staring is unsettling.”

His head falls backward, against the back of the dirty and tattered couch, and it’s then that her heart starts beating in her temples. She stares at him, frowning, her hot dog still in her right hand.

“Reg?”

Her gaze moves down to his chest and suddenly, the place’s silence becomes deafening. She hears her heartbeat — she feels it everywhere in her body — just as she hears her breathing almost scratch every time she exhales. Her subconscious is quicker at reacting: her hand lets go of her friend’s shoulder all of a sudden, and it truly does feel like the contact burned her palm in a sickening way, but it takes her a full minute for the conscious part of her brain to catch up.

His chest is not heaving.

She gasps, and her hot dog drops down onto Reggie’s knee first and then to the floor.

Frantically, her gaze swipes over Luke and Lex. She’s aware of everything and nothing at once. Her palms turn clammy; her breathing gets deeper, it almost hurts her lungs; and just as her eyes move from Luke to her brother, she knows she’s about to throw up. It’s cold — despite the place being sheltered, despite Lex’s too-big hoodie on her: goosebumps tug painfully at her skin. And when her wandering eyes stop on the person she loves most in the world, her knees threaten to give out and make her trip over Reggie’s extended leg.

“Lex?” but her voice is a whisper. Her chest hurts as she seems to move in slow motion; her head is empty and heavy at the same time and oh my God, please, just —

She doesn’t know how she’s managed to take those three steps to stand in front of her brother, and even twenty-five years later, that still feels like the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

He seems fine. She looks at him and there’s nothing weird on his face; he’s stained his shirt, but that can be fixed. Reggie could lend him his flannel. Hell, he could wear one of their Sunset Curve t-shirts!

“Lex.”

She doesn’t know she’s falling until her knees crash onto the rough concrete of the floor.

His hand is still warm when she gets a hold of it.

And she can’t move. The nausea almost makes her head spin, and she feels… empty. It starts slowly. It’s a feeling as tiny as a pinhead at first, but it grows quickly, like a black hole that eats and swallows her whole, quicker and quicker the more the momentum picks up.

“C’mon, it’ll be September soon… You have a concert tonight.”

But he doesn’t answer. And the more she stares at him, the more that whisper in the back of her head grows in volume —

— Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. —

— until it echoes in her mind and her ears and —

“An ambulance is coming,” someone says — to her, to the three boys in front of her, she doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter, nothing does. “I’m sorry, if we had realized sooner —”

But she’s already turning her head to the side to throw up.

The strongest memories of that night are the goosebumps, the cold, the nausea. And then that extreme loneliness building up inside her, quickly growing like some kind of alien parasite, rooting her to the spot, freezing her mind in a loop of Lex Lex Lex that just goes on indefinitely.

And then the flashing lights of an ambulance and Bobby calling her name — Nance? Nance? Nan—

*

—nce?”

She whips around so quickly she almost loses her balance on the heels she’s wearing. No one has called her ‘Nance’ in forever, even Michael preferred ‘Nancy’, but coupled with that weird feeling that has been rocking her for a couple of weeks now, it truly does feel like suddenly being back in some familiar place.

It takes her a couple of seconds before her sight zeroes in on the Trevor Wilson.

“Nancy?” The smile on his lips is unsure as he makes his way up to her between rows of clothes. He hasn’t changed since the last time she’s seen him, but at the same time she stares at him like he’s grown ten heads; like her brain can barely comprehend what’s going on. “That really you?” He has colorful clothes in his arms, she notices as her brain struggles to keep on functioning smoothly.

“Hey.”

“It’s been, what? Ten years?” Bobby’s never been good at small talk, and she realizes now that Trevor hasn’t become much better, not even after the decade that has passed since the last time she’s seen him at a teacher-parent meeting. “You look well.”

“Thank you.” Her heart is in her throat — it feels like choking, like gasping for air she can’t get —, and for a moment she forgets all about having a teenage daughter she needs to help find a dress for her school ball.  “You look well, too.” It’s lame, but she can’t even attempt a chit-chat with the only one of them that got away on his legs.

“How have you —” He sighs, and he probably catches up with what she’s thinking — the way her brain has stopped working, the way it must be back into that loop of loss first and drugs later, when they had turned their backs on each other. “How are you?”

“It’s been forty-two years of shit, Bobby,” she sighs. “But the kids make it good. I hope Carrie’s doing well. She was a good pupil.”

“I’m not…” I’m not Bobby, that’s what he’s about to say. I’m not Bobby anymore. I haven’t been Bobby in twenty-five years. Bobby’s dead.

But Bobby isn’t dead, he didn’t share his friends’ fate, so he shuts up. He still remembers the black eye she gave him the very day Trevor Wilson’s first song — Luke’s song — came out, and she reads it right on his face, in the way his expression changes and falls in defeat.

“I’m helping my daughter with her dress now. I should go.” The smile she gives him is tired and tense, and she doesn’t put much effort into coming off as a happy woman for him, not after the bad joke he pulled in the past. “It was good seeing you. I wish you well.”

And with that she turns around, swallows the lump in her throat and for a moment thinks back to Lex. Lex, and the fact that she didn’t get the chance to see him age into the man Bobby’s had the chance to become. To Luke, and the success he would have had with his talent. And then to Reggie, whose open eyes still haunt her to this day — and although she’s grateful for her children, she can’t help but wonder how things would have turned out if she and Reg would have had a chance.

“Mom? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Sarah is standing there, at the entrance of the changing rooms area, and although there’s her usual concerned frown on her face, she truly does look like a princess in that navy dress she didn’t want to try on.

Nancy chuckles — she wouldn’t have thought of those words, but boy, are they spot on! “Just someone I used to know. So, what do you think of that?” she asks, desperately trying to steer the conversation into another direction. “I wasn’t always a mom, I used to have good taste in outfits, too.”

Sarah laughs at her joke and she does, too. And for a moment, a split second, she sees her brother in the way her daughter laughs and looks away for a moment. But that memory is as short and quick as a flash, and she doesn’t have time to think about it for too long.

“Yeah, I know.” She’s almost on the verge of spilling the beans — that she and Jake have gone through her secret box with all her memories, but she catches her tongue just in time. There’s no need to upset her mother, not when she’s been in her head so much these past two weeks. “But I like it, and you could do my hair…”

An hour later, they’re walking back to the car, bags with food and anything Sarah might need for her ball in their hands.

Bobby — Trevor — is there, and Nancy holds his gaze for a few seconds as she walks by. She barely has the time to see Carrie’s head disappear into her father’s car before the door closes with a slam. They stare at each other, but it’s not Nancy and Trevor: it’s a pregnant Nance standing in front of a Bobby whose face is about to meet her left hook. It’s tense and silent, and there’s the same guilt in his eyes that he had back in 1998.

How did things go like that? She’s had twenty-five years to look for an answer to that nagging question, but she’s never found one — not in the three years she’s spent with her feet in two different worlds, and not even after the birth of Jake in ‘98.

“I was over at the Molinas’ to help Carlos with his homework yesterday,” Sarah says as she lays her new dress down onto the back seat of the car. “Did you know Julie’s started playing again?”

Nancy stares at her daughter for a long minute and the longer she stands there, as she finishes putting the groceries in the trunk of the car, the more that soft smile stretches on her lips. “Really?”

Sarah nods. “She apparently has a band of holograms or something now. Carlos doesn’t exactly know how that works, but says they’re cool.”

“Her mother would be so proud.” The engine roars to life and when she turns to check that nothing or nobody is behind them as she puts the car in reverse, she catches her daughter’s questioning expression. “She had a group as well.”

The Sunset Curve demo her kids still listen to starts playing then, and Nancy has to be careful not to jolt the car to a stop — she didn’t remember it still being in the CD player, she thought Jake had brought it to college when he had left after spring break — he has been contemplating making his friends listen to his mom’s friends’ songs for months, but she must have been mistaken.

The silence is heavy, almost tense. It has the weight of a being alive of its own life, pressing down on her shoulders and robbing her of her breath as she leaves the parking lot of the mall and she heads back home. It’s always a pang to the heart, every time the notes start playing and Luke gets ready to sing again. And although it hurts, although the tears are always there, ready to prickle her eyes, it’s a way to keep them alive. Twenty-five years after their deaths, and she’s still childishly hoping that playing their songs will miraculously bring them all back to life.

It’s only when the chorus sings Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, But live it like it’s now or never — the same one Reggie had playfully dedicated to her that night — that Sarah clears her throat. “I didn’t know you knew Mrs Molina well.”

Nancy hums. “We met once, before…”

“Oh.” There’s no need for explanations, nor to wait for her mother to finish that sentence. “I didn’t know.”

“We never had the chance to get close,” she shrugs. “But I’m glad you’re going along well with her kids. How’s Carlos doing?”

Sarah laughs, and it’s in that moment that the sun starts shining again. That weird feeling of slowly-building wholeness filling her cup one drop at a time is still there, and somehow it’s still something she can’t explain — maybe the pieces of an unfinished puzzle going back to their place? or maybe just life finally starting to go in the right direction? — but it doesn’t feel as nagging with her daughter’s laughter ringing in the cabin of the car.

“He’s starting his career as a ghost hunter.”

“A ghost hunter?” A smirk tugs at her lips and it feels good, after years spent trying her hardest to do something that should have always been so natural.

“Yeah, his dad was taking pictures of the house when they were still considering selling it and one came out with three orbs. Carlos thinks it could be his mom with some friends, or just some ghosts in general, and he wanted my help to set his channel up since he knows I helped Jake and the guys with theirs.”

Nancy chuckles, and she feels light again after so long. The last time she’s felt like that was when the divorce papers had finally been finalized, probably. “So, are you? Helping him, I mean?”

“Hell yeah, I am, mom! That kid is the best kid I’ve ever babysat. He’s going through all the old stuff at his place to see if he can find anything that might help him find out whose ghost he’s dealing with.” She smiles brightly — and Nancy can’t help but mirror her expression when she sees it from the corner of her eye at a red light. “I think I’m —”

*

— going to sing for Jake’s band.

It’s a week after that afternoon in the car, and Nance is still thinking about the news Sarah has informed her of a few hours ago. Her daughter has been acting weird for a week now, and although she couldn’t pinpoint the cause at first — Sarah wouldn’t tell her —, she’s now starting to understand. Jake and his friends had a falling out with their singer Peter the day before a possibly important gig at Eats&Beats, the same one Julie and her hologram friends played at, and she’s probably been pondering her brother’s offer.

Still, it somewhat stings, for there have never been secrets between her and her girl. The pride bubbling up inside her is stronger than anything else, though, and she can’t help but smile.

It’s the first time she smiles at what had used to be her and her brother’s secret place at the beach. That alcove used to echo with the sound of their laughter a long time ago, but had quickly turned silent after that night at the Orpheum. It’s just the way things go sometimes, when you can’t make them go the way you want, when life’s outcomes are way out of your control.

It’s peaceful, and for the first time in painfully long years, she truly does feel at peace. It’s a weird, almost stressful feeling for someone who’s never exactly felt at peace in her life, but she’d like to think that this truly is the start of a new and happy chapter in her life.

Lex is with her, with his head resting heavily on her thigh, much like the day she found and rescued him — or, well, the day he found and rescued her. He���s always by her side, and somehow he knows when she needs him the most. It’s not exactly like having her brother with her but it’s… close.

“I wish you were here.” She never talks to her brother out loud, but somehow she feels the need to do just that now. The words leave her lips before she has the chance to stop them, and she finds that it doesn’t hurt as much as she had always thought it would. “The kids are following in on your footsteps more than they are mine.”

And it’s not a bad thing. At all. It’s a relief neither Jake nor Sarah have gone down the path Michael had started to take her along with him. And although Jake behind the drums is still a sight she won’t become fully used to all that quickly — she hasn’t managed to in twenty years —, it’s still comforting in a way. She watches him play with her brother’s only remaining pair of drumsticks and she feels at home.

“I’m so proud of them, and I like to think you’d be, too.” Then, she smiles again. “Sarah asked me if I believe in ghosts the other day. If I think people with unfinished business come back from the afterlife in an attempt to see it through. If I think you’d ever come back, maybe with the guys. And I…”

But her voice fails her. One of her hands comes down to caress Lex’s head while the other plays with a smooth piece of wood she’s found in the sand.

The truth is, she’s spent longer than she’d ever be comfortable admitting with her mind wondering about that same question, bouncing around like a pinball.

She doesn’t know the reason for Sarah’s weird behavior isn’t Jake and his friends asking her to join September Dream. Just as she could never imagine that last week, when Carlos Molina invited her daughter to his sister’s garage party, she saw three guys she’s only ever seen in her mother’s polaroids playing right in front of her like life has never stopped.

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original video used for the gif: https://www.pexels.com/video/blurred-bokeh-video-855204/

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[seasonsofeverlark]

Worth the Wait

Author: @ameliaodair​ 

Prompt: Modern AU: Peeta and Katniss were on vacation in Argentina. Their days are up now and they’re on their way back to the US, however, a tornado alert gets them stranded in Lima, Peru. It’s Halloween and they were supposed to go trick or treating with Finnick and Annie and now here they are. What they didn’t know, is that in Peru they celebrate something called Día de la Canción Criolla, and they get swept into the joyous atmosphere. Dressing up as the locals, Everlark celebrate Halloween in a different way. [submitted by @evestedic​]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: I tweaked the prompt a little, hope you still like it :)  This is my first time writing for one of these, so I hope I did it right, and I hope I did the prompt justice.  Enjoy :)

I always want to say thanks to my wonderful beta @eiramrelyat​.

____________

Part 1

Katniss tosses her suitcase into the trunk of her car, irritated that her flight was cancelled.  She promised her sister she would be home tomorrow, in time to see her niece and nephews’ costumes for their very first Halloween.  If there was one thing in this world that Katniss despised, it was disappointing her baby sister.

“A tornado?  Seriously, a freaking tornado in Peru!  Just wonderful!”  She mumbles to herself, securing her seatbelt in place.  Before leaving the parking lot she reaches for her phone, browsing for somewhere to stay for a night or two; at least until she can catch the next flight home.  “Great, no service.”  Could anything else go wrong today?  She thinks to herself, tossing her phone back into her purse.

After being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, only going at a speed of ten miles per hour, she tries to summon the courage to call her sister.  Gripping her hands firmly around the wheel and tapping her fingers nervously, she finally speaks to the car’s navigation system. “Call Prim.” 

“Calling Prim” The car responds.  Prim answers on the second ring, the excitement laced in her voice.

“Oh my gosh Katniss, I am so excited for you to see the twins’ costumes!  Are you in the states yet?  What time is your flight?  Do you have an estimated arrival time?  I can come and get you, or…or—" 

Katniss cringes at her sister’s questions before deciding to interrupt her. “Prim, I um…there was a problem- no, there is a problem.”  Katniss looks out the window, noticing how crowded the streets are, and the people seem to be dressed rather…vivaciously.  ‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ She thinks to herself.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m fine.  It’s just that…my flight…well, it got cancelled.  I mean…not ‘cancelled,’ cancelled, but more like…delayed.  There’s like…a severe tornado warning or something and they’ve grounded all flights until further notice.”

‘Are they…dancing?’ Katniss thinks to herself, seeing a woman be twirled around in an immaculate dress, the dress fanning out to reveal the beautiful colors.

“Seriously?  Katniiisss….”  Prim whines like a toddler, elongating Katniss’s name.

“Give me a break, Prim, you’ll take a zillion pictures, we’ll facetime, and you can dress them up when I get home.  They’re babies, they won’t even know the difference.”

“But I will.” Katniss despises it when Prim does this.  Looking out the window again, Katniss sees a group of small kids dressed up in costumes.

‘How adorable.’  She thinks to herself, smiling.

“Come on Prim…This is totally out of my control.  You know I would be there if I could.  Plus, don’t you have a wonderful husband to keep you busy?”

“Yeah…I do—” Katniss can hear the smile in Prim’s voice and that always makes her happy.  Even after being together for five years, Prim and Rory are still so sickening in love with each other; it would make Katniss sick if she didn’t love her sister so much. “But he’s not you.  No one can replace you, big sister.”

“I know Prim—” Katniss cranes her neck out the open window to see what all the commotion is about.  “Prim, I need to go…there is something…I don’t know what it is, but I’ll call you later.  Take lots of pictures for me!”  She says just before ending the call, not giving Prim the opportunity to make her feel any worse.  As if that is even possible.

A month ago the company Katniss works for asked someone to take an impromptu trip to Argentina, just before the holiday’s no less. To have the opportunity arise to be the mediator in an attempt to merge their company with one of the hotshot rivalry companies nearby, Katniss was the first to volunteer. 

With no life other than her sister and her sister’s family, Katniss had no obligations which left her the perfect candidate to leave the country.  Everyone else had families they didn’t want to leave, not knowing how long it would take to do the negotiations, they did not want to risk being in another country for the holidays.

It had been almost ten years since she lost the love of her life and she had accepted the fact that you only get one of those per lifetime.  She was secretly hoping for better luck in her next one.  He was beautiful and he was perfect, and she thought their love transcended time and space.  So what if they were only teenagers, and so what if she had not seen him in almost ten years.  It did not seem to matter how many times she tried to find love, it just never felt right. 

At seventeen years old, she and her sister became orphans.  Social Services came to her house early one morning and loaded her and Prim into a car, refusing to allow them to say goodbye to anyone.

Katniss no longer cries from the anguish of losing him, but the agony from missing him is still as fresh as that first night.  When she turned eighteen, she could have gone back to Panem, but she was too scared.  What if she went back and he had moved on?  Found someone else to love, got married, and…no, not knowing was better.  Rejection would be worse.   

Katniss hoped this trip would give her some insight as to what she might do with the rest of her life.  She cannot continue to lean on Prim forever; she has her own family now.

Katniss finally makes out what the commotion is ahead of her and a smile forms on her lips when she catches sight of the herds of people dancing in the street, causing her to remember their dance competition.  With him.  “Dammit Katniss, stop it.  Why do you keep thinking about him today?”  She scolds herself before spotting a hotel across the street.  She pulls into a parking space, crossing her fingers they have a vacancy, but by the looks of the massive hoards of people crowding the streets, she is not very confident.

She reaches up to her neck where her collar bone dips in, and with her thumb and forefinger, she pinches the pearl that hangs from her necklace.  From him.  It is the necklace he gave her on her sixteenth birthday.  ‘As long as you wear this necklace, you will know how much I love you. Always.’ 

‘Always.’  It was their ‘thing.’  Some people made promises of forever, but not them.  No, they promised for always.  She remembers his exact words, and for some reason, he feels closer than ever.  Close enough to touch.  Something in the back of her mind says.

Shaking her head to rid her mind of the penetrating thoughts, Katniss decides to make her way into the hotel to see if there is a room available before unloading her suitcase.  She locks the rental car and pushes her way through the crowded streets and into the entrance of The Holiday Inn.

Upon entering the building, Katniss is greeted by a beautiful woman with perfectly golden hair and a smile bright enough to light up the entire building.  She says something in Spanish that Katniss cannot understand, confusion written all over her face.

“Crap, I left my translator in my car” Katniss mumbles under her breath after reaching over and checking her purse.

Realizing that Katniss does not understand her, the woman speaks again, this time in English, laced with a heavy accent.  “Welcome to The Holiday Inn, can I interest you in a room?”

“Oh, you speak English!” Katniss says, more excited than she should be.

“Effie does not allow any of her employees to man the front desk unless they are fluent in English.  We get a lot of tourists.”  Madge says, explaining to her.

“Effie?”  Katniss asks, finding the name strange.  Like she’s one to talk.

“Effie is the boss.  This is her hotel.  She’s more of a designer if you ask me, but she’s famous for dressing people up for the Dia de la Canción Criolla!  She will be knocking on your door within the next hour!”

“Dia day what?”  Katniss asks, not hearing what Madge said due to how fast the words seemed to escape her mouth.

“Dia De La Canción Criolla.  It is a celebration of Criolla music.  There will be dancing, lots of dancing!  And music, yes…beautiful music!  You should come, it’s so much fun!”  Madge tells her with stars in her eyes, as if she is remembering a heartfelt moment.

“Oh, well…I’ll think about it.”  Katniss says timidly, giving Madge a smile.

Katniss is thrilled the hotel has a vacancy and hands Madge her credit card to confirm her room for the night.  While she waits for the transaction to process, she and Madge make small talk.  Madge returns her credit card and ID along with the plastic key card with the numbers ‘12-13’ displayed on the front, as well as a brochure.

“If you take these elevators up to the twelfth floor and make a quick right, room thirteen will be on your left.  Here is a list of amenities as well as numbers if there is anything you need.  And Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“You should come out for the night.  You only live once.”

With a polite smile, Katniss nods her head, turning her back to Madge to retrieve her suitcase from her car.

Nearly half an hour later, she returns to the hotel with her suitcase in tow and steps onto the elevator.  Just as the doors begin to close, she spots a man running, trying to catch the elevator before the doors close.  Katniss presses the button to keep the elevator open, but she is just a moment too late.  With a mind of its own, the doors seal themselves shut, rising her up to the twelfth floor.

‘Why do I keep thinking about him today?  Why does he feel so close to me?  I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!’  Katniss says smiling to herself, reaching for the pearl again.  ‘Heavensbee’s sake’ was one of ‘their’ inside jokes.  “Perhaps this ‘Dia De La…whatchamacallit is just the thing I need to distract my mind from him.  And who knows what’ll happen.”  She mumbles to herself, entering her hotel room. 

When the door slams shut behind her, she hears the distinct ‘ding’ from the elevator.  ‘Whoever that man was must have made it up.’  She thinks to herself, recalling the flash of blonde hair, with those bouncing blonde waves, just like him.  ‘No, stop it.  He is not here Katniss.  It has been ten years.  Ten years.  You should be over him by now.  So, just…Get over it.’

But she’s not, and she can’t.

Freshly out of the shower, with one towel wrapped around her body and another one on the top of her head, she reaches for the phone and proceeds to call the number Madge had given her.  She needs to do something to distract her mind.  She is going to celebrate Dia De La Canción Criolla like a Peruvian.

“Give me a break Dad.  It’s Halloween, it’s not even really a holiday.  The bakery will survive if I’m gone for another few days.”

“I know kid, I know.  I’m sorry…I just…you know…I miss you.  You’ve been gone for like—”

“Two weeks.  I have been gone for two weeks.  And I will be home in a few more days.  Control over the weather is not a power I have homed in on as of yet.”  Peeta’s dad chuckles at his words but is still disappointed.  “Listen dad, as soon as they open the flights back up, the airline promised to call me, and I’ll be on the first flight back to the states.  Now look, I’ve gotta go, the streets here are insane and I need to find a place to crash for the night.  I’ll let you know when to pick me up.”

“Okay, son.  Oh, and Peet?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“Try to have some fun.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try.  I’ve gotta go, bye dad.”  Peeta ended the call before giving his father any more fuel to drag the call on longer.

Peeta woke up that morning with an uncanny feeling that something was wrong.  When he got to school that morning and she wasn’t there, that feeling in his stomach intensified.  They talked to each other every day before and after school.  She was his best friend, and he was hers.  They told each other everything, so when he still had not heard from her by dinner that night, he knew deep in his gut something was wrong.  Really wrong.

The next day, Magnolia, one of her sister’s friends, came to him asking if he had heard anything from either of the girls.  For two days now, both girls have been missing from school.  Magnolia did not know it, but she had just confirmed the gut-wrenching fear in the pit of his stomach. 

For days, Peeta hounded the adults to no avail, questioning anyone he could as to her whereabouts.  She would never just up and leave without telling him, at least not without saying goodbye.

After two weeks, Peeta’s father realized that Peeta needed answers, that he would not be able to rest until he knew what happened to her, so using his connections he was able to obtain some information.  Peeta cried in his father’s arms as he told him what happened.  Social services came that morning, came before the sun was even up, and basically kidnapped the girls.  Both of their parents died in a car accident and at sixteen and a half years old, she took over the role of mom and dad to her little sister.  Apparently, someone placed an anonymous call, claiming to be “worried,” about the girls, hence social service ripping them from their lives.

For years, Peeta tried to find her.  But when his father lost his job, they had to relocate to another state.  Peeta did not want to leave if by some chance she came back looking for him, but he was only a kid himself, so he didn’t have a choice. 

At one point, he hired a private investigator, but so far; nothing has come up.  All his friends and family keep insisting he “move on,”  But he just couldn’t, he can’t.  “You don’t just move on from your soulmate, from your one true love” he told them all.  There is no one else, only her.  If I am not with her, then I will just be alone.  One day, he will find her, he is certain of it. 

“I know I’m probably asking the impossible, but would you happen to have a room for one?”  Peeta asks once he reaches the desk, giving the beautiful girl his most charming smile.

“Oh, don’t let the streets fool you, sir.  It’s Día De La Canción Criolla, the Peruvian festival of Music.  And to answer your question, yes, in fact we do.”  The receptionist, Madge, proceeded to tell him with her heavy accent and dazzling smile, staring at the computer screen in front of her, typing away.

A few minutes later, Madge hands him his plastic key card to his room in the penthouse along with a brochure filled with amenities, phone numbers, and information about this “Dia De La Canción Criolla.”

“Since you are already here sir, you should come out tonight and check it out.  Have some fun.”  Have some fun, those were his father’s exact words.

But dancing…especially that kind of dancing brought him back to memories of her.  She was the captain of the dance club in high school and she convinced him to enter a couple’s dance competition with her.  Never able to tell her no, he agreed.  He was never as good as her, but where he lacked, she excelled.  It was like that with everything they did.  They picked up each other’s slack.  When one was weak, the other was strong.  Always.

As he is scribbling his signature on the consent form to bill him at checkout, for just a split microsecond he thinks he sees her.  Heading onto the elevator is a woman with the same shade of hair, in that same over the shoulder braid she would wear, and the same olive complexion.  It had been almost ten years since the last time he saw her face, ten years since the last time his lips touched hers, but he is certain that one-hundred years could go by…no, a thousand years could pass, and he would always know her. Always.

Once his ‘T’s’ are crossed, he politely excuses himself from the receptionist, and runs to the elevator.  He can’t make her face out as the doors slide shut, but he can tell she tried to hold the door for him, but it was too late.  The elevator has a mind of its own and she slipped through his fingers.

“It’s not her, it couldn’t possibly be.”  He tells himself, his head hanging down as he presses the button and waits for the elevator.  He rides up to the twelfth floor and as soon as the doors open, he hears a door slamming from around the corner.  He finds his room, walks into it, and plops down on the bed.

Lying back on the bed, something in Peeta’s pocket begins poking his thigh.  He reaches into his pocket and grips firmly onto the pocket watch that he always keeps with him.  From her.  

At fifteen years old, he began saving his earnings from working at the bakery for eight months in order to buy her that necklace.  When he first saw it hanging in the shop, he knew he just had to have it.  He knew it was made just for her. It had been sitting in his underwear drawer for almost two weeks before he gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday.  His gift brought tears to her eyes because of what it meant.

She wanted to give him something too, but he insisted that it doesn’t work that way.  You do not give a gift to someone because they gave you something.  That was the first time she said those three magical little words.  She told him, “I’m not giving this to you because you gave me this necklace, I’m giving this to you…I want you to have this because I love you.”  It was her father’s, a gift from her mother.  It meant the world to her, so he knew what she was saying before she even said the words.

“Dammit Peeta!  Get a grip.  It isn’t her, I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!  An entire country away!”  Peeta yells at himself, confused as to why she is on his mind so hard today.

Peeta jumps into the shower, having decided that maybe he will join the festivities, if for nothing else, then to distract his mind from her.  He picks up the brochure and places a call to one of the names Madge had recommended.  If he is going to a Peruvian festival…(or is it a party?), he is going to need something to wear.

 Part 2

“Hi Katniss, my name is Cinna and I’ll be your stylist.”  Katniss lets the man in that Effie had recommended helping her find something to wear for tonight.

“Come in, it’s nice to meet you Cinna, I’m Katniss.”  Katniss sticks her hand out to Cinna, but he ignores it and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.  He then pulls back and circles around her, inspecting her from all angles.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”  Cinna asks after he finishes orbiting her once.

“What gave it away?  My accent? Or the constant look of confusion permanently embedded on my face?”  Cinna chuckles at her, deciding that he is going to like this girl.  She is something special.

“I’ve met everyone who comes through here, and I am certain I would remember a face as radiant as yours,”  Cinna says, noticing the rosy hue filling Katniss’s cheeks.  There is a knock on the door, startling Katniss.  Cinna reaches for the doorknob and opens the door, and three strange-looking people come bouncing in.  Their hair is quite flamboyant, they wear some rather vivid and strange colors, but they look at Cinna as if he were the sun.  But most importantly, they seem truly happy to be here, to help her.

“Katniss, these are my assistants, and they will be helping me in getting you ready for tonight.”

“Okay.  But, you do realize that I’m dressing up for this Dia de la Festival thing and not my wedding, right?”

“Dia de la Canción Criolla.”  Octavia, one of Cinna’s assistants says so fast, Katniss only heard gibberish.

“How do you guys say that so fast?”

‘I wonder if they do this often?’  Katniss thinks to herself when Flavius, another of Cinna’s assistants rolls in this cart filled with the most immaculate, dazzling dresses, shoes, and so many other accessories Katniss would never dream of wearing.

They get right down to business, no dilly-dallying.  Katniss tries on dress after dress for what felt like hours, only to have them settle on the first dress, much to Katniss’s irritation.  Each dress takes all four of them to help her into, which Katniss could not begin to fathom why it was so difficult. 

The dress they decide on is more beautiful than she is able to put into words.  The upper half clings to her form, accentuating each of her womanly curves.  It is a modest dress, for when she looks in the mirror, she feels beautiful, but not provocative.  It shows just enough cleavage, but not too much.  The skirt of the dress is loose and free-flowing, if anyone happens to twirl her around tonight, it will fan out in immaculate precession.

“Oh, Miss Katniss, just you wait till someone spins you around in this baby.”  Katniss looks startled as she scowls at Flavius.

“Wh-what’ll happen?”

“I can’t give away all the secrets, now can I?”  Flavius looks at her conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry Katniss, nothing bad will happen.”  Cinna places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.  But it isn’t his touch that calms her, but the gentle tone of his voice.  She cannot help but notice that Cinna has this natural air about him, he makes her feel calm just by entering the room.

Once they finish adding the final touches to her dress, they chain her to a chair, (figuratively speaking) and get to work on her hair.

“So, is there a special someone we’re fixing you up for the night?”  Just as Cinna asks the question, Effie walks into the room.

“Oh, hello guys, don’t mind me.  I just wanted to observe the divine Cinna at work!”  Effie pulls up a chair, making sure she isn’t in the way, and watches as their experienced fingers intricately style Katniss’ hair.

Katniss is hypnotized as she watches four sets of hands intricately brush, comb, part, separate, and braid her hair.

Remembering Cinna’s question, Katniss blushes before saying, “Oh no.  There is no one, I just…I just…Well, since I’m already here, I figured I should get the full Peruvian experience.”

“Oh, you have a man back at home, do you?”  Octavia blurts out.

“No.  No, there isn’t anyone.  Well, once…No, never mind.”

“Awe, come on! Tell us!”  Flavius pleads with her.

“PLEEEEASE!!”  All three assistants beg at the same time in a sing-song voice.

Katniss hesitates for a moment, realizing there is no harm in confiding in these complete strangers, she starts.  “Well, there was this one guy, once.  When I was younger.”

“Ooooh, was he handsome?”

“What color were his eyes?”

They each spit out their own questions, curious to the man who once held her heart, forcing the image of his perfect face into the forefront of her mind.

“No, he was not handsome…. He was…he was beautiful.  He had the bluest eyes, bluer than the ocean and the sky mixed together.  And his hair…it was this sandy blonde, with just the right amount of waves, you know…not too curly but definitely not straight.  He was my best friend, my soul mate.  He was everything to me.”

“So, what happened?”  Flavius blurts out.

“You speak of him as if you’re still in love with him,”  Vennia says, giving Katniss a forlorn look.

“I got…I got ripped away from him.  And I haven’t been able to find him since.  But someone as amazing as him, surely he’s married with a few kids by now.”  Katniss omits how she is actually too chicken to even look for him as she hangs her head down, the pain of him with someone else cut like razors.

Effie’s eyes go wide as she recognizes this story, without excusing herself, she gets up and storms out of the room in a dash.

“What was that about?”  Katniss asks inquisitively.

Flavius does a motion with his hands and rolls his eyes.  “Who knows?  That woman is a bit cuckoo.”  However, Katniss notices the knowing look being shared between Cinna and his assistants.

“Perfecto!”  Vennia says once her hair is complete.

“Now, one last thing,”  Octavia says, reaching for the clasp around Katniss’ neck.

Katniss spins around to face Octavia, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“I have a better one for you to wear tonight.”

“No, the necklace does not come off.”  The firm tone in Katniss’s voice tells everyone not to argue.

And they don’t.

 Effie storms back into Peeta’s room- the busy body she is- and pulls up a chair next to Peeta as Portia and her team get him ready for the night.

“Peeta?  Will you tell me about your girl again?  The one from your childhood.”  Peeta raises an eyebrow, making sure to hold his head still as Portia does whatever she is doing to his hair.  He isn’t sure why it is taking so long, but he doesn’t question her.

Peeta’s eyes light up at the thought of his girl.  “Oh Effie, she was…she was perfect.  She was the sun and the moon and the stars, all in one.”  Effie notices the sparkle in Peeta’s eyes as he speaks of the girl.  “She was so beautiful, and her eyes…I’ve never seen the same shade on another human being’s face, silver as the moonlight, intense as the night sky.  Her hair, well back then it was long, nearly to the middle of her back.  But she always wore it in this braid over her shoulder—” Effie’s eyes go wide as she listens to Peeta, realizing he is describing the girl in the next room.

‘Could it be?’  Effie thinks to herself.  “Peeta, I think you should meet your neighbor.  Maybe you could share a dance with her…Spend a night on the town—”

Peeta chuckles before interrupting her.  “That’s okay Effie.  I’m going home as soon as the airlines call me anyway.  I just wanted to experience Dia De La Canción Criolla Peruvian style.”

Effie shrugs her shoulders, getting up to leave as an idea comes to mind.  If her plan is to succeed, she will need help.  “Okay, Peeta.  Your loss.”

Effie waits in her office until she sees Miss Everdeen exit the hotel.  Once she knows Cinna is free, she immediately goes to him and shares her suspicions.

“Cinna, we must, we absolutely must bring those two together!”

“Effie, what are the chances that the true love they lost and speak of just happens to be in the next room?  An entire country away?”  Cinna asks, exasperated by Effie’s infatuation with true love.

“Okay, so maybe I’m wrong…But what would it hurt?”  Cinna thinks about it for a moment, deciding no harm could come of it, he listens to Effie’s plan.

x – x – x

“Thank you for coming with me Portia, I felt a little strange coming out here by myself.”  Peeta gives Portia a smile as they leave the hotel and join the crowded streets.  There are people dancing everywhere, children carousing the streets alongside their parents dressed up in their costumes. 

“Would you like to dance Portia?” Portia scans the area, looking for any sign of Cinna, and then nods her head.  She will dance them closer to where Cinna is with his girl.

“Where did you learn to dance Peeta?  You’re quite good.”  Peeta blushes at Portia’s compliment.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss?  Was that her name?  Your sweetheart back home?”

Peeta nods, just as a handkerchief flies into his face.  He reaches for it, holding it in front of him with a confused look.  “What the—”

“It means there is a lovely lady who wishes to dance with you.”  Portia maneuvers Peeta’s body, turning him around and pushing him toward the woman standing next to Cinna.  The darkness of the night, in addition to the lack of streetlights, prevents Peeta from clearly seeing her face.  All he can make out is the silhouette of her face, yet the moment their fingers brush against each other, he instantly feels that familiarity…he feels at home.

But Peeta would know her anywhere; at least he thinks it is her.  No, no.  His mind is just playing tricks on him.  Either way, he extends his arm to her, and she accepts graciously just as The Marinera begins to play.

It is their dance.  Katniss and Peeta’s dance from high school.  Peeta circles her once, and then again.  She smiles at him flirtatiously, swinging her hips as she sways to the music.  They tease each other back and forth throughout the night.  It is as if they had spent their entire lives perfecting their moves, as if their bodies are meant to be as one.

The familiarity that overtakes them when Peeta places his hands on Katniss’ hips sends shock waves surging through their bodies.  ‘Why does this feel so familiar?  Why does this feel so right?’  Peeta thinks to himself after their second dance.

They dance the night away with each other, oblivious to the identity of their dance partner.  The chemistry surges through Peeta’s body, and he knows she feels it too.  There is something familiar about this woman, but Peeta cannot quite put his finger on it. It isn’t until the light of the moon casts its glow, causing the pendant on her necklace to shimmer in the moonlight, which is when Peeta freezes.

It can’t be, no, this girl just happens to have the same necklace.  But then he sees the tiny inscription of the word “Always” in elegant script at the base of the pearl.  That is when he knows.

It is her.

His Katniss.

  Part 3 

Turning away from the familiar stranger, Katniss hikes her dress up and runs back to the hotel. She rushes onto the elevator and presses the button for the twelfth story. When the doors open to her floor, she takes off in a sprint again, toward her room, then slams the door behind her once she’s inside.

“Get a grip, Katniss, wake up.  It’s not him. You are just dreaming!”  She yells at herself, lightly banging the back of her head against the door.  ‘How does he know my name?’  she asks herself.

Less than a minute later, there is a knock at the door.  “Katniss? Katniss, are you okay?  Please open the door. I know it’s you.  It’s me, Peeta.  I’m sorry if I scared you; it’s just…can you please open the door so that I can see your face?”

Can it be him?  Is it truly him?  So many times, Katniss thought she saw him, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be someone else.  Her heart cannot take another beating.

With her hand on the door handle, Katniss closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable.  Slowly, she opens the door just a crack, peeking through the small space.

“Peeta?  Is it…is it really you?”  She asks, slowly nudging the door open.

They stand there with their eyes locked, staring at each other while time stands still.  A loose strand of hair blows in Katniss’s eyes, interrupting their trance.  It is enough to reel her back into the present, and Peeta extends his arm, stroking Katniss’s cheek.

“Katniss,”  Peeta says, staring longingly into her eyes.  He slowly lowers his hand, pinching the tiny pearl hanging from Katniss’s neck.  “You still…I can’t believe you still have it.”

Katniss glances at his left hand that grasps her pearl, and her heart speeds up at the absence of a ring.  Peeta reaches up and places his hands on either side of Katniss’s face, bringing his face closer to inspect that it is really her.

“I never…I never take it off,”  Katniss says, licking her lips.  “Do you want to…come in?”  Katniss asks him.  

Peeta gives her a nod and walks past her and into the room.  Katniss closes the door behind him, and when she turns around to face Peeta, he pulls her close, slamming his lips onto hers.

The kiss is deep, sensual, and passionate, everything they have craved over the years.  Peeta takes Katniss to the bed in the center of the room, removing his jacket and slinging it behind him.

Katniss allows Peeta to take control.  He lays her back against the sheets, then follows after her until he’s, hovering above her.  “My God, I have missed you.”  His voice reverberates between their connected lips.

There is no denying it. It is her.  The only thing that matters is Katniss.  His Katniss.  Right here, right now, she stands in front of him after all this time.  He cannot take it anymore and closes the short distance between them, slamming his lips against hers. Peeta plunges his tongue deep into her mouth, devouring her. Tasting her.  Reveling in her.

The moment their lips connect, they knew they had finally found each other.  And yes, it was definitely worth the wait.

  5 Years Later

“I can’t believe you are getting married in Peru on Halloween!”  Prim squeals, zipping the back of Katniss’ wedding gown up.

“It’s not Halloween in Peru, Prim. It’s Día de la Canción Criolla.  And it’s when Peeta and I found each other again.”

“I know, sissy. I still can’t believe you guys found each other in Peru of all places!  I mean, I don’t remember a whole lot from…from before, but I remember how happy you guys were when we were kids.  And then I remember how sad you were when we had to leave, and…and I’m just so glad you found him!”  Prim says, turning Katniss around and adding the finishing touches to her hair.

“I’m just glad that you, Rory, and the kids were able to come.  Have you seen Peeta?  Is he okay?”

“No, you are not seeing him until the wedding. No exceptions!”  Prim tells Katniss, pointing a sassy finger in her face.

When Peeta catches sight of Katniss walking down the aisle to marry him, in the captivating dress with pearl accents, his heart stops in his chest at how beautiful she is.  When he finally found her after so many years, he thought he had died and was living in his dreams.

He finally found her, and she was now his to love.  Always.

[werezmastarbucks]

dayton

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2631

music: air catcher by twenty one pilots

The tiniest part of you wanted to go to Columbus, because you loved that place. But the bigger part, the one that connected your brain to your hands clutching the wheel, told you if you fail, you’ll have all the time in the world to go back to Columbus. To wherever the fuck you want. Kai said he can operate practically any type of transport, but doesn’t like ships. Flying was fine with you as long as he really knew not to crash a plane. You had to constantly remind yourself that he had many years to learn everything.

As you drove, you were revising the CDs Kai found in the car. He was putting the disk in and pressing play, or sometimes he just read the names of the bands. He opened the window and threw away all the CDs that were named trash. Now that you two were misplacing them, they were supposed to stay there on the road after Kai sent them out of the window, you were asking. Right? But, crashing on the ground, they were damaged, so did it fall under the order part of the spell? Were they to return into the car after you deliberately got rid of them? 

“You’ll know tomorrow”, Kai replied playfully. Surely he knew how that works, but it seemed he was unwilling to just tell you everything about this prison, and wanted you to discover things for yourself. 

Dayton was empty, too. Just like Roanoke and Huntington on the way through. You found this stillness somewhat soothing. You didn’t like gatherings and crowds, didn’t like noise and people. You decided to dive back into the three foot world, and just enjoy the empty roads for once, and start worrying when the realization of utter loneliness settles in.

You looked on your right, where Parker was sitting, staring at the cover of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” by a-ha (do not throw them away under any circumstances!) in his hands, with one brow raised, belt across his chest. You still felt like you were alone here although he was next to you. He still didn’t feel like a human person - more like a part of this world. As inanimate. He was remarkably quiet, and you knew it wasn’t for good. 

On the Germantown Street, you stopped the car, feeling tired. The sun was about to set down completely, the May angle leading it onto your left. You got out and stretched, and Kai stepped out of the car a minute later.

“Where will we sleep? Any good hotels?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t been in Dayton”.

“You haven’t been to Dayton?” you repeated.

“That’s what I said”.

“Ever?”

“Ever”. 

He looked around and stared at the sky again. Parker has been glitching like that since last night, when he stared up as if trying to cope. You looked at his upturned nose and his youthful face, thinking, he is in his forties. This dude is going to be fifty years old soon, and he is a nut case, and I have him on my hands.

He looked back at you.

“Adventure begins here”, his tone was half-questioning, and he smiled. The way it curled his capricious mouth, his eyes glowing, told you he didn’t really believe in getting out. You’ve only spent here a day, but he gave up already. He knew there was no getting out, and he just took it as a long journey, to keep his girlfriend sane. You had no idea where he thought he was going. 

You walked back to the car and took your bag and the phone. Kai’s eyes wouldn’t leave you.

“You’re changing the car again?”

“Uh-huh. Why not? It’s not like someone’s going to report them all?”

He smiled again. 

You walked down the street, ghostly and quiet. No stray dogs, no garbage being thrown around by the wind - but that’s likely due to Dayton being very clean. Kai wouldn’t bother taking the bag out of your hands, walking with his head turning right and left. You felt like in a museum, observing the 90s’ fashionable displays and stores. The eerie sight of clothes you had a habit of associating with your mother’s youth, and the lighthearted, distant, happy past years, the square thick screens and simpler times, were now a reality for you. You could reach and touch that sky-blue blouse on a slim mannequin, wearing posh plastic necklace, a picture from an aesthetic lookbook for inspiration. Aesthetic and nostalgia, that’s what the nineties were to you, but now they were here, brought right upon you, by magic, and they were very real. 

You slowed down in front of one of the windows of the Dayton Mall, a low, nice-looking white and green store, and looked at the leather jacket displayed.

The bag dropped on the ground as the understanding slowly creeped into your mind. Kai was standing few steps away from you, with his head cocked, watching you yet again. He seemed like a tour guide, a museum security guy who was more concerned about whether you enjoy this experience rather than keeping it all intact.

“I can do whatever I want”, you said slowly. 

“Absolutely everything. There’s nobody to stop me”.

“Don’t headbutt the glass”, Parker warned you, and there was this note in his voice that told you he’s talking from personal experience.

You took off your hoodie, the evening air a bit cool for only a tank top. You wrapped your hoodie around your hand and swung it, breaking the display.

The glass shattered loudly, pieces of it falling to your feet with ringing. Interesting, you thought, you get here, into this world of opportunity which poses as prison, and the first thing you do is vandalize.

The jacket wasn’t even that cool, so you didn’t aim for it. You looked down the street full of windows, and you could feel your blood boil. There was something inside of you, trying to get out, like the fuse that suddenly got lit. Everybody has it. Anybody would do it. You turned back to look at him - no need to mention his name, there is nobody else but this guy - and he grinned half-invisibly. It was a grin of indulgence, a hidden smile that lit his face when he did something bad: you recognized it from last week, when he said he’d kidnapped Elena on the first week after he got out of prison. It was the smirk that bloomed on his face as he spoke about how he gutted his own mother, and god save you, it was the same smile he had after you opened your eyes and still had a taste of his mouth in yours. 

You ran along the Germantown Street with the red pipe wrench you fished out of a car you found in the street. It was heavy in your hands as you swung it, crashing it into the glass, bothering the headless and armless mannequins, startled and falling down, creating the mess on their places. The glass was cutting your hands, flying in all directions, spitting sharp shrapnel like rain. With each broken window, your shoulder ached more and your head ached less, and you felt less like crying. Maybe there was a wake among that act of desctruction, but you missed it amongst the wild excitement of complete permissiveness. Parker walked after you, smiling quietly, as you raged around him, carrying the bag, and looked around. Finally, when you got tired, he sat on the asphalt next to you and looked at your hands.

“You’ve tapped one percent of what you can do here”. 

His sly hand took your palm, and your skin stung a little. It wasn’t as bad as that burn yesterday. You watched your own hands not believing pain could live longer than physical manifestation of it. Kai’s fingers wrapped around the cuts tightly, making you sigh sharply. He was so full of magic now, fresh prince of everything, that it radiated out of him. You could swear you felt it coming from his hand to yours. The cuts started sucking on themselves, and the ache stayed deep inside slender bones, phantom. 

“Another”.

“You shouldn’t waste your magic. Who knows how long we’re going to stay here”.

Kai gave you a meaningful look.

“Well, we decided we’d find a way, right? So, I’m doing it soon”.

“You know you’re lying. You’re only going to Oregon because I asked you”.

“See how nice I am?”

Your palm snaked out of his hand as soon as he healed you. 

“That’s what I don’t like about it”.

Parker eyed you down.

“You’re really hard to please, aren’t you?”

“I’m a bit grumpy cause I’m stuck here with you”.

“I have told you before, I never asked you to”.

You didn’t really have the energy to fight now. You wondered how you’re going to cope with his breakdowns in the future - and they’re bound to happen from time to time. Maybe become just like him, emotionally volatile. Seems easy enough. So far, everything here has been too easy, and you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Darkness fell on Dayton, and there was intense white glow somewhere beyond a row of buildings in Madden Hill.

“There it goes. I think it’s a cool hotel. You should go to sleep, you have a long drive tomorrow”.

He got up and offered you a hand.

“It’s weird you’re not driving”, you noticed.

“I don’t like driving”.

You stood up without his help and he frowned again, like he was noticing every little thing crossing your mind. 

“How is that? I thought you liked being in control”.

“I am. I’m making you drive me everywhere”.

You sniffed.

“I do it because I like driving”.

“Then it’s a win-win, right?”

He patted you on the back and removed his hand as if afraid you’d bite. 

You walked on towards the glow, crossing lit and dark streets. Here the lightning is automatic, and here is not, Kai was commenting. He was commenting on everything which indicated he was in a good mood. 

“That’s the best ‘94 can do?” you inquired, looking at the tall rectangle building. 

“It’s a Hilton”, he noticed.

“It’s an ugly ass hotel”, you grumbled. Kai snickered and followed you inside.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry”.

Parker knew his way around everything. He knew where the kitchen was, and, while you were coming up choosing a room, he went on raiding the huge space filled with food.

He was devilishly good with it, too. 

That evening, after you’ve eaten, you went strolling around the place and found out one more thing: you didn’t like being without him while you knew he was around. 

Empty space that was supposed to be filled with people creeped out your unprepared mind. The stairs sounded hollow, and you expected somebody to jump out of the long, empty corridors. In the windows of the hotel, there shone an empty city, lit for nobody. Shadows and silhouettes were floating around in the dark sky. You decided not to butcher every thing that came into your way and fought the desire to break the window to look outside. What will become of you if you use the foot and fist method for everything just because there’s no one to stop you? Kai wouldn’t mentor you. He’s more of a devil on the left shoulder than the voice of reason. He will definitely be willing to spoil you until you’re flexible material he can use.

You now had a great opportunity to reflect on all that, Parker included, and decide on your course of action, separate yourself from your cell mate. But instead of staying away to think you found yourself drawn to the place where he was, because the empty ugly Hilton was scary. 

You returned into the room and found him, sitting on the floor of the big top floor suite, with the little bedside light next to him, crouched over something. Walking closer, you found it was the charger from your phone, and something remotely resembling a part of a boombox. One of the loud speakers from it was torn out, and laid at his hand, and you couldn’t understand a single thing he was doing.

“What is it?”

“I’m making you a portable speaker, like one of those bluetooth things kids have”, he said shortly. 

You looked down on him, a little surprised, because he’s never acknowledged his own age or the era he’s lived in before. Preoccupied, he looked very smart, and completely normal. He even rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“How?”

“See this thing? It’s from that player”, he motioned his hand towards a player lying afar on the floor. Looked like he’d kicked it away with force.

“I’ll adjust the wire so that it can see your iPhone, and voila”.

��But I need the charger”.

“It’s gonna work”, he nodded.

“Are you sure? Kai, I can’t lose my phone!”

He sighed, and looked up at you.

“Did I mentioned I studied at MIT?”

“No. You know there’s been a shooting?”

You didn’t know why you mentioned it immediately.

“Wasn’t me”.

“Clever motherfucker”.

Kai shifted as if you touched him. He looked at you as you walked away. Coming close to the bed, you felt you were almost collapsing with exhaustion even though you didn’t do much.

Just before you fell asleep, you looked at the time on an electronic clock next to bed. It was almost midnight.

You woke up as if someone hit you. The silence was pressing on your ears, pressing your head, and moreover you didn’t know where you were. Without opening your eyes, you tried to remember the place and what happened. The darkness was blue and black, and it was so warm you tried to pull the covers off of yourself, and failed.

Kai moaned, displeased, right behind your ear, and you realized his arm was wrapped around you, and that’s why you felt like you were lying in a cacoon. 

You rolled halfway, not without a struggle, and saw his face very close.

“Kai, what about personal space?”

His body was so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. Of course, he’s one of those boys who turn into stoves when they sleep. Somehow his body just did that, so that you didn’t really know what he was unhappy about. You were scared of how well your shape adjusted to his, and you were lying comfortably in such a position that you usually get when you wake up in the morning. Even if bed seemed uncomfortable last night, in the morning you don’t want to move an inch, and the pillow seems perfectly soft. 

Still, you could feel his invasive mass, almost pushing you off that king sized bed, cornering you to the edge, like he was trying to scope you and win over the bed at the same time. You felt for his hand against your ribs and found he formed a fist, clutching the fabric of your shirt, like you were about to roll away.

“What personal space?” he murmured. 

Fair enough. In this world, that was all yours and nobody else’s, this crowdless, lifeless planet, thounsands and thousands of miles of nobody’s land, in this spacious cursed desert, there was not space enough for the two of you to move separately. You had felt it while wandering around the hotel, when you decided to run back to where he was just to see another human next to you, to make sure you’re not alone. This prison was as claustrophobia igniting as it was hollow. There was no personal space here.

[activechataclysme]

TITLE: clean.

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Ship: The Love Square - Little bit Adrinette, Little bit Marichat Rating: T [ AO3 ]

Summary: Marinette decides that letting go of her feelings for Adrien is what is best for her, and she is resolute on that.

PART - I

It was months and months of back and forth

You're still all over me

Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore

Hung my head as I lost the war

And the sky turned black like a perfect storm

In the silence of her room, Marinette stared at the black umbrella - usually in the warm, loving corner of her closet -  on her chaise. More than anything, all she was feeling was a bone-deep exhaustion.

“Marinette?” Alya called sleepily, sitting up in her loft bed and reaching for her glasses. “What’re you doing up?”

“I need to get over him.”

“What?”

“I don’t like what it does to me,” said Marinette, voice small. “The nerves, the fear. Being so… On edge and scared.”

Alya quietly slipped off the covers and climbed down the ladder to stand next to Marinette, brows furrowed in concern as her eyes landed on the umbrella.

“Where’s this coming from, M?”

“Everything , Al!” burst out Marinette, tears stinging her eyes. “I-It’s starting to feel like that’s all I am. I don’t like how that’s become my identity .”

Alya linked her hand around Marinette’s and tugged her gently towards the chaise. Carefully setting the umbrella on the floor, she sat Marinette down on it before kneeling down in front of her.

“Girl, what happened?”

“I- I find myself making bad decisions ,” she sniffled, eyes filling up with tears.

She kept making the wrong choices. Losing Master Fu was her fault. Getting Ryuuko instead of Queen Bee even though that would’ve been a better choice and so it was her fault that Miracle Queen happened.

And she kept hurting people. Luka, Kagami, Chat Noir . They didn’t deserve that.

“I don’t like who I’ve become, Al. I- I never cared about boys this much, it’s not… I don’t… And he doesn’t even notice . He doesn’t see me, and I’m just… Done ,” she sighed. “And I know it’s not his fault, but he brings out the worst in me. No, that’s not fair. My feelings for him bring out the worst in me, and I don’t like that. I hate how it makes me feel about myself.”

“Oh, Marinette, it’s really not that bad,” cooed Alya. “You’re a girl in love and-”

“It’s not that bad, really Alya?” asked Marinette, sniffling. “The fact that people I grew up with thought I could… Be so jealous over a guy and sabotage someone? That isn’t bad? I must have done something to make them believe I am capable of that! The worst part is I did do that, didn’t I? It was easy to believe after that thing with Chloe and-”

Alya winced guiltily. “M, I didn’t-”

“I don’t mean you, I just…” Marinette softened immediately. “As I said, my feelings for him are not doing me any good at all. I am starting to think that it’s letting people think the worst of me.” She finished in a small voice. “I just don’t want to be like that. It’s not the kind of love he deserves. Nor the kind I want to give, either.”

“I just want there to be more to what I do than a boy ,” she grimaced.

Alya giggled a little. “No boys in this house.”

“Shut up, Al,” snorted Marinette. “You have a boyfriend.”

“That I do, that I do,” hummed Alya.

“I’m going to tell Nino that you forgot about him,” said Marinette solemnly.

“Oh noooo,” Alya said dramatically. “That would break the poor boy’s heart.”

“I love you, Al,” sighed Marinette, a fit of laughter later, as she rested her head against her shoulder.

“I love you too, girl,” smiled Alya. “But seriously, whatever you need, alright?”

Marinette considered for a moment. “No more schemes. No more missions or operations or anything .”

“Aw,” pouted Alya. “I loved planning those.”

“And no more trying to leave us alone.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Actually, I’m going to need you to make sure it doesn’t happen ever .”

“ Ever ?” asked Alya incredulously. “Girl, you’re still going to be friends with him, right?”

“Well, okay maybe till I’m… You know, okay.”

“Okay, fair,” Alya conceded.

“And... “ Marinette inhaled deeply. “Don’t give me any updates on… his dating, and whatever.’

“Okay, Marinette,” sighed Alya. “Whatever you need.”

“I just need to be able to get over him.”

It felt like the end of something big, which was silly. But maybe also not, because maybe Marinette shouldn’t have let it get that big. She had responsibilities that were greater than this schoolgirl fancies; schoolgirl fancies that had not done her any good in the first place.  

Marinette thought it ironic that the sky had blackened to foreshadow a storm. She suspected it’d last a few days at least.

“Hey, Adrien.”

“Marinette! Hey!” he beamed. If it made her ache a little, she pretended it didn’t because it shouldn’t anymore. “Want me to drop you off?”

Her eyes widened just a bit, but she shook her head gently, a warm smile on her face. “It’s okay, thank you. I just… Uh…”

“Everything okay?”

His eyes were soft, green and so, so concerned for her. But over his shoulder, she saw Kagami approaching. So she looked away, inhaled deeply and plastered on a smile before looking back at him.

“Peachy. Everything’s fine, thank you very much for your concern.”

She winced internally at how her voice had risen, and thrust her hand forward.

“I keep meaning to,” she started slowly, eyes fixed on the umbrella. “But I keep forgetting to return this to you.”

“What?”

The confusion in his voice finally had her look him in the eye again. She chuckled and nodded at the umbrella. “It’s yours. You gave it to me on your first day of school, remember?”

“No, yeah, I remember,” he said, the confusion not having left him as he still kept looking at her.

Kagami was waiting behind him at a distance, and for that, Marinette was grateful. So she powered through, eyes flickering back to his.

“I’m returning it to you,” she said, shaking the umbrella lightly.

“I- I didn’t intend for you to. I don’t mind, honest.” Adrien blinked. “Besides, it looks like it’s going to rain. You’re gonna need it.”

She gave him a wistful smile. “I’m sure you don’t, but it isn’t mine to keep.” And then she pulled out a small pink umbrella with white dots on it. “And I’ve got my own this time.”

Reluctantly, he took the umbrella from her and stared at it, looking at her with worry. “Why now?”

“I thought it was about time, is all.”

Before he could say anything, she took a step down so he was towering over her on the stairs. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Adrien. Bye!”

“Bye, Marinette.”

She walked away, thankful that she had to go in the opposite direction of where Kagami stood waiting. She did not look back, not even once, though she could feel his gaze boring into her back. She trudged on as it started to rain, and walked past the bakery.

She wandered till the Seine came into view. She stood by the embankment, slightly out of breath as she gazed out at the torrents of water lashing against the concrete bank. There was a dull ache in her chest, but she felt that just maybe she had just a little bit of her life back in her control.

Yes she’d had whimsical dreams and fantasies about life with a boy she thought she was deeply in love with, but maybe there would be more dreams in the future. And maybe they would be with someone who would see her and bring the best out of her, and made her want to be a better person for herself rather than for them.

She lifted the umbrella off her head to tilt her face up to the sky, eyes fluttered shut as she let cold as ice rain soak her to the bone. It felt a lot better than the bone-chilling exhaustion that had settled into her.

Yes it hurt a little, or maybe a lot and maybe it would keep hurting for a while but she had to believe that she would be okay, that this would be okay.

Baby steps.

PART - II

There was nothing left to do

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

A few months later, Marinette carefully set the bracelet he had made her into the box she stored all her mementos - press dried roses from Chat Noir, her ticket stub from the first movie she was allowed to watch with her friends, a necklace from her grandmother that she'd ended up breaking when was ten, among the many other things. She removed the pictures of him from the walls save for photos that they were in with their friends, and absolutely cleared the corkboard by her bed of all pictures of him. The box of gifts she had made had already been handed over to her parents so they could donate it to children in need.

For Adrien's birthday this year, she would do what she did for all of her friends - a birthday card, a cake or a dozen macarons of their favourite flavour and one handmade gift that would take her no longer than two hours to make.

When Chat dropped into her room some time later, she had thrown open the skylight and was kneeling on the bed right below it, eyes closed and face tilted upwards towards the moon and stars.

He observed, and made no attempt to hide his curiosity as. "The photos are gone."

"The posters," she corrected absent-mindedly, eyes fluttering open as she remembered to roll up the stuff she'd taken down into careful rolls to be kept at the back of the closet. Felt odd to be storing them away given the intention of taking them down, but it felt wronger to throw them.

"Right, posters," he nodded. "Why?"

"I thought it was about time, is all."

"You... Thought it was about time?" repeated Chat, and she couldn't tell why his voice sounded a little strained. "Had a little change in taste of fashion, Princess?"

Marinette chuckled humourlessly. "You can say that again."

Chat hummed and watched her slip down the ladder to hand him the platter of croissants she'd taken aside for him.

"You okay, Princess?"

"Stressed," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, as he dropped on the chaise and she trudged to drop down onto the floor between his knees.

He picked her brush off her chaise lounge and started to gentle run it through her hair.

"Everything okay, kitty? You seem quieter than usual."

"I- Well, never mind. You're already stressed as is."

She turned around to look up at him, cheek resting against his knee. "Chat Noir. You know it doesn't work like that. Talk to me!"

Chat sighed, flicking her forehead lightly so she turned back around. He started to braid her hair carefully, worrying his lower lip as he contemplated his words. "My girlfriend broke up with me."

"Oh, Chat, I'm so sorry," she gasped, starting to turn around but, he kept a firm hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. Surprised, she stopped resisting now curious and a little concerned for her partner.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he sighed. "I think it was inevitable. Once the rush of the newness of it all went away, it was all... the same, you know? Our parents are strict and there wasn't really much to do, but that never bothered her. I tried to get her to play video games with me, but... Well, she's very smart, and a very no-nonsense, practical type of a person, you know? She did not see the point of it, but I know she tried to. But I could tell she didn't enjoy it. And..." he trailed away, voice coming down to a slow mutter. "And it doesn't help that I'm a superhero. Secrets are not good for relationships apparently. That, and the other small things... And her thinking I was in love with someone else-"

"Ladybug?"

"Maybe," he murmured. "But she thinks its someone else."

"Oh."

"It just... Really did nothing to help. I don't even know if we're friends now."

"That's awful," Marinette whispered, as Chat snapped the rubberband on her finished French braid.

"Ta-da!"

Marinette giggled. "Thank you, Chat."

He lounged back as Marinette scurried away to clean her hairbrush and put it away in her vanity.

"So, have you thought about what to say to Luka?" he asked casually, one leg swung over his knee as he tried to look nonchalant, but his alery kitty ears and stiff shoulders gave him away.

She sighed and looked at him wistfully. "Yeah."

When she didn't elaborate, he quirked a brow. "And?"

"I'm going to have to turn him down," she sighed. "

"What, why? I thought you liked him!"

"I do, I think," agreed Marinette. "We've been on a couple of dates and-" She flushed. "-And kissed a little, but I just... Realised that it won't last. Whether or not we make it "official", like he wants to."

"Princess, you can't know that," said Chat, a wistful smile on his face, his eyes a little sad.

"I do know," she sighed. "I have... Too many responsibilities. I don't want to be the kind of girlfriend that flakes all the time. Luka doesn't deserve that. I just... Have too much going on."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is, chaton."

"Sad, is what it is," he sighed.

Marinette agreed.

PART - III

Ten months sober, I must admit

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it

Ten months older, I won't give in

Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it

It was strange really - in a relieving sort of way - how her heart did not race as fast anymore in his presence. She didn't feel like she would become one with the floor when he held her hand, which he seemed to like to do a lot now. She also knew that Alya had noticed, and was thankful that despite the gleam in her eyes and occasional pointed quirking of her brow, Alya did not really say anything. She really did love her best friend so freakin' much.

She did think there was a fragile quality to their friendship - maybe it was just her, worrying like she usually did, or maybe it was just the truth - that had formed since the ten months she'd returned the umbrella, well, technically speaking, three months since she'd returned the umbrella because it took her that long to dull the ache at the sight of him. And the fear of breaking what she'd worked so hard to build still kept her from spending too much alone time with him, because sometimes when he looked at her that warmly with the fond smile etched on his face. On the bright side, at least her heart didn't ache anymore at the thought of him kissing someone else.

She found herself, on very rare occasions, reminscing about the childish hope and lightheadedness of being so deeply in love with him. She missed feeling that light, maybe because now the weight of the world had only gotten heavier on her shoulders, and she associated the silliness of it all with a time when her biggest problem was how she was going to confess Adrien. Not dealing with the aftermath of revealed identities and being left with no allies, of being the new guardian - possibly the only teenager with access to that much power on the planet - and guarding all that power, not potentially losing all of her memories, not having to think about a timeline where her partner and her were in love strong enough to destroy the world and definitely not worrying about if this was all there was to life anymore because really, when would this end? How would this end? Will it ever?

She felt a gentle squeeze against her hand and she shook herself from the dangerous spiral that she was heading into. She found Adrien smiling at her like that again - and something warm flared in her chest, again - and she shook it off. Easier than she would have ten months ago.

"You okay there?"

"I'm good."

"Do you, er, want to, um, maybe grab some hot chocolate after school?"

His cheeks were red, or maybe she was just imagining it. His eyes were soft, or maybe she was just imagining it. He looked nervous, or maybe she was imagining it.

And it was raining.

Her eyes darted to take in the sky and lightning crackled overhead.

"Looks like the perfect weather for it," she murmured, and he beamed at her. She took a lungful of that fresh air, singing with the metallic aftertaste of lightning, thunder, earth and rain. "Let me just text Alya and Nino."

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean.

[howdoyousleep3]

Ok but like, let's think about something: Daddy Steve buying Bucky something pretty - not clothing, but *jewelry*. Like a necklace, earrings, bracelet, etc, but not masculine ones - dainty and delicate and decidedly feminine.

I’m just now getting to this bc I’m trash I’m so sorry but I’m feeling it now. 

Steve pictures Bucky in jewelry all the time

Gold, gold would look so nice on his skin in the summertime, his skin a little bronzed, gold on gold

But silver, silver would look so good as well, bring out the grey in his eyes, steely blue

He can’t stop thinking about gifting Bucky with jewelry ever since he wore that little dusty blue collar with the bell for Halloween, feeling consumed with the idea of Bucky wearing something that Steve gave him, that shows others Bucky is taken care of and cherished

Something delicate laying across his prominent collarbones

Something wrapped around his wrist, encasing fragile bones

He thinks about a ring but that leads him down a path that brings him an overwhelming amount of anxiety and emotion so he shuts it down quickly

He bounces between the idea of choosing a piece for Bucky or taking Bucky somewhere and letting him choose something, weighs the pros and cons of both and makes a decision--

He will choose a few pieces, a variety, and let Bucky pick the ones he wants the most

In the end he comes up with a handful of items, has spent time working with a local jeweler:

Two different thin chains, higher up on the neck but not considered a choker, one gold and one silver

He chooses the same style for bracelet, a little thicker, more durable, one gold and one silver

He goes out on a limb, puts himself out there, makes his way through different leathers and velvets, keeps coming back to a black and that damn dusty blue, chooses an actual collar with a diamond on the blue and a silver O-ring on the black, right in the middle

Steve has Bucky stop by during his lunch break one day, wonders if he should changed his shirt he’s sweating so much, has all the boxes laid out on the coffee table in front of the couch

Bucky notices them as soon as he walks in the room, barely kisses Steve on the cheek, eyes glued to the table 

“S-Steve?” “Yeah, sugar c’mere.”

Bucky can’t stop staring at Steve, eyes wide, obviously attempting to regulate his breathing, actually gasps when he opens up a box

“Steve, what...?” Can’t even finish his sentence, poor thing

“I wanted to do somethin’ sweet for you, Buck, wanted to give you somethin’ pretty.” 

He knew the arguing would come, knew Bucky would fight tooth and nail with Steve on buying him something so fancy, so expensive, so Steve just grabs for his chin when he sees that whisper shout coming 

“Buck, let Daddy be sweet on you, yeah? Know I love spoilin’ you, haven’t given you anything like this. Want you to have somethin’ that let’s people know you’re taken care of and loved and adored and that...that you’re mine.” 

Steve almost moans when he sees it click in Bucky’s mind, when he thinks about wearing something that shows people he’s Steve’s, Daddy’s

Bucky honest-to-god gasps when Steve opens the first box, precious, such a pure and simplistic soul

When they’re all open Bucky’s eyes are wide, contemplative, looking up at Steve for possibly guidance, but Steve watches where his eyes go, where they flick to immediately 

Steve explains why he chose what he chose, explains his reasoning, asks Bucky, “Which one do you like, honey?” 

Steve knows the answer but it isn’t what Bucky points to after a few minutes of silence and looking

The silver necklace

Steve hums, grabs for the box with the pale blue choker on it, holds it in his hands and inquires, “Saw you lookin’ at this one, sugar...” and that’s all he needs to say before Bucky’s cheeks go up in flames, before he swallows thickly

“You like this one.” It isn’t even a question, Steve knows his boy, and his blood feels like it’s going to boil he’s so keyed up at the thought of Bucky wearing a collar 

Bucky bites his lip and shakes his head a little in response

“Baby,” Steve coos, runs his thumb over the silky velvet, “You can like this one, Bucky.” And then it’s all or nothing-- “You wanna wear a collar for Daddy?” 

Bucky fucking whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, makes Steve actively fight to keep his composure, waits Bucky out for the verbal answer he knows Steve expects from him

It feels like he waits goddamn forever for Bucky to nod, for him to murmur, “Yes.”

“That’s okay, yeah that’s okay, Buck. It’s alright,” he whispers into Bucky’s ear, cheek pressed against cheek, the younger trembling, “Would love for you wear a collar for me, shit.” 

Steve takes the collar, takes the silver chain, removes the latter from the box, makes a noise and a flick of his wrist to indicate Bucky should turn around

The necklace looks incredible on Bucky and he knows it’s simple and silver but it lays right above his collarbones, light catching it when Bucky turns around, make him look delicate and dainty but this is Steve’s boy, this is his man 

Steve kisses him, can’t help but let it get heated but controlled, a tease of a tongue

“Let’s get this one for you to wear when we’re out, when you go to classes, whenever you want to. And let’s get this pretty soft one for us, for when you’re feelin’ some type’a way, from when you really want to be mine. How’s that sound, sugar?” 

Bucky responds in such a breathy way Steve is worried he’s started to float a little bit, kisses him once more before asking if he wants to stay for lunch

And when Bucky responds with, “Yes, Daddy,” wearing that chain around his neck? Lunch becomes a much longer engagement. 

I am so sorry this has taken so long and I know it turned into collar things but I love the idea of incorporating this silver necklace into more stories! I had to go classic and, as much as I wanted to go gold, I really think Bucky would pick silver. 

Love you! 😘😘😘

[jonny-byerss]

5, 8, 15, 18

Thanks for the ask anon! Sorry it took me so long to answer...

5) Bathing/showering headcanon

So, both Nancy and Jonathan are shower people, they rarely ever take baths. They do take showers together occasionally if no one else is home. And they’re not big on shower sex, just because they’d rather not break a bone and die. After the hospital fight in S3, they took a shower together. It was like the shower Nancy took in S1 (after the forest) but this time Jonathan was there to comfort her (and Jonathan was equally just as scared as her).

8) Sex headcanon

Ugh, yes I was hoping someone would ask this. Nancy and Jonathan have sex literally all the time. Usually they do it late at night when everyone is asleep, or they just wait until they’re home alone. Or they go park his car somewhere where no one would see them. The first time they had sex at Murray’s they actually did do the pull-out because neither of them planned this and didn’t bring anything. But every time they’ve had sex after that, they use condoms. Nancy thinks Jonathan is so much better at sex than Steve ever was, even though Jonathan isn’t half as experienced as Steve was. Jonathan was a virgin up until that night at Murray’s house (which is also his first kiss believe it or not). They both enjoy having sex though and they try to switch things up occasionally, switching who’s on top and whatnot. They love the intimacy that comes with sex and think it makes their bond even stronger, being vulnerable like that with someone does tend to make you more comfortable with them.

15) Singing headcanon

Neither Nancy or Jonathan are the world’s greatest singer and they don’t have perfect pitch or anything but that doesn’t matter to either of them. Nancy loves when Jonathan sings and Jonathan loves when Nancy sings. They play music all the time when they hang out, Jonathan being the music fanatic he is usually controls the music, but Nancy doesn’t mind because he tries to add some songs that Nancy likes. And Nancy has actually started to appreciate some of the more obscure music that Jonathan likes. Sometimes when they play music one of them will sing along and the other person thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

18) Favorite possession headcanon

Jonathan’s favorite possession is his camera that Nancy gave him. And his favorite picture he’s took on it is one of his three favorite people, Joyce, Will, and Nancy. Nancy’s favorite possession used to be the ballet necklace that she got from Barb, but now it’s the necklace that Jonathan gave her for their first Valentine’s Day together. She still loves the ballet necklace, but sometimes wearing it is a reminder of Barb’s fate, so now she wears Jonathan’s necklace to think of something that makes her happy, not sad.