#but as a kid we would sometimes get this donut that was split in half and had marshmellow inside its was amazing

[secret--psalms--saturn]

Hey reblog this and tell me your favourite donut

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD, Dom/sub relationship, death, etc-- everything Criminal Minds.. I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12575

Timeline: Season 7 Episode 01. Three months after part forty-six.

For the past three months, the team had worked dozens of different cases across the country, but none of them mattered except for the one that Morgan, Garcia, and I had been working on privately. Since I came back to work and was deemed the temporary unit chief, I decided to reopen the Ian Doyle case. At first, it was just me. When I wasn’t at work, I was at home, hiding in the upstairs office, working on trying to piece all of the evidence together to figure out where the hell Doyle could have possibly gone. But then it was just too hard to keep doing it on my own, and all of my resources were wasted. There was only one person who had access to more information than I did. Garcia. So, I asked if she would be willing to help me, but it was impossible for her to keep a secret, so we invited Morgan to help us. From there, we managed to find Declan, but we didn’t tell anyone about it outside of our small group of three.

Finding Declan was an interesting process. I had hit a wall with it, hence why I acquired Garcia’s help, but she managed to find him almost immediately after she told Derek what was going on and he helped profile Emily in order to profile Declan. He figured that she had been the one to move him considering how she died protecting his identity and location. Before joining the team, apparently she lived in Reston, Virginia, something I didn’t know about her, but he managed to know. From there, we decided that it was probably to be close to Declan. So, we started narrowing it down. We knew that she liked cul-de-sacs, so as Garcia was going through the school system to find kids that looked like Declan, she compared if their guardian looked like Louise, his nanny, and if they lived in a cul-de-sac. Then, bam. We found them.

Morgan had been the one to offer up the idea of looking for Declan before Ian because if we found Declan, then so would his father eventually, which made our job easier. After that, it was just a waiting game. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do beyond searching all of the footage to see if Ian ever showed up, which he never did. When Morgan and I were away on cases, Penelope kept an eye on him; and when we were in town but not working on anything, Morgan was driving baby Emily out there and taking her on walks around Declan’s neighborhood to scout the place. I think it was also just an excuse for him to have Emily more.

On our way to work one morning, Morgan and I stopped to get sandwiches for lunch, as well as some donuts from Leonard’s for the office since we were feeling generous, I suppose. At work, we split off so that he could sit in the bullpen while I dragged my feet up to my office. I didn’t understand how Hotch did it. Being away from the team all day, every day was so… isolating and exhausting. There was no joking with Morgan, teasing Reid, or… well, when Emily was around, there was no more chatting with her and gossiping about Hotch. I missed the way she used to slide in veiled threats into the conversation about how she would hurt him if he ever hurt me. So, then again, maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t down in the bullpen anymore. Sitting at my old desk would have just given me a reason to sit there and stare at her desk all day, reflecting on what it was like to have her around, wishing that I could bring her back.

By lunch time, Morgan rescued our sandwiches from the fridge and brought them up to my office. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from me. I caught my sandwich as he threw it at me, then tossed him a water bottle from Hotch’s secret stash in his bookshelf behind the desk. I hadn’t really changed anything. For the most part, the office was still exactly how he left it. From the artwork to the family photos, to the stacks of case files that he practically left for me on his desk to work through, to his computer wallpaper of us, it was all still Hotch. The only difference was that I was finding all of his secrets now, like the water bottles, and totally taking advantage of them.

Morgan kicked his feet up on the desk, something Hotch would’ve never let him do in a thousand years, and dug into his lunch. I picked at mine for a moment while thinking. I was doing too much of that nowadays. Without my “other half” (or some cliché shit like that) around, I didn’t really know who to talk to 24/7 about what I was thinking and feeling. Sure, I could’ve talked to Morgan, but it was different. When I talked to Morgan, it was like we were brainstorming for a solution; but with Hotch, it was just like he was there to listen, and I could go on and on for hours, and he would hear me out, and he would only offer up a solution if he felt it were necessary. Sometimes I just liked ranting my thoughts to him. I liked watching how he would slowly get lost in the details of my face as I would be talking, and how he it looked like he was falling in love with me over and over again with every minute that passed. Skype and calling on the phone every day didn’t do that look justice anymore.

“Oh, my god—Oh, my god—Oh, my god!” Garcia came running into the office with a laptop balancing on one of her arms. Morgan and I turned to face her. “It’s him! It’s him!” She quickly set her laptop down on my desk and pressed play on a video. Morgan and I both leaned forward in our seats to watch the security footage from Declan’s house. “It’s Doyle—” She paused and pointed to a driver in a car passing by. It was kind of hard to see, but when she zoomed the image in and enhanced it, it was undeniably Ian Doyle.

“When was this?” I asked, jumping into action by standing from my seat and started collecting everything we had on this case thus far.

“Two hours ago.”

“He could have Declan by now. Fuck.” I looked at the two of them to say, “Okay, I think it’s time. I’m going to call Hotch to let him know, meanwhile, I need you guys to get the team together and start explaining everything. I want Reid and Rossi to go retrieve Declan and Louise after they’re briefed.” I grabbed my phone from my desk. “Go.” Just as they were leaving, I dialed Hotch’s satellite phone out in the Middle East.

Hotch and I had still been calling each other every day and Skyping as often as we could. The longer he was there, however, the busier he and I got with our two different jobs, which made it increasingly complicated to keep up with each other. But we made the effort. We knew that if at least one day passed where we wouldn’t talk, one day would inevitably turn into two, then three, and so on. I didn’t want to stop talking to him. As boring as the conversations could get at times, at least I got to see him. He was growing out a beard that I happened to love, but Jack hated. He claimed that it made his dad look old. When we could talk in private a little bit later, I told Hotch that I thought it was hot, and that I couldn’t wait to pull at it while he towered over me. He disliked when I teased him like that, though.

When I called, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re calling awfully early,” Hotch said over the phone, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world.”

I blushed to myself and looked down to watch the toes of my shoe dig into the ground over and over again. “There’s something you need to know, baby, and you have to promise to not get mad.” He didn’t say anything. “Morgan, Garcia, and I have been looking for Doyle while you’ve been gone.” Still, nothing. “We found Declan.”

“What?!”

“Hotch—”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Y/N? Do you know how stupid that was? Your whole career could—”

“I don’t care about that, Hotch. I really don’t. I knew that finding Declan was the best way of finding Ian, so I asked Garcia to help; and you know her, she couldn’t keep it to herself, so she told Morgan, and he insisted that he help us. He’s basically the one who found Declan. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have any leads.”

Hotch sighed quietly. “Is Declan safe?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Morgan’s still surveilling him—But, Hotch, listen, we were right. By watching Declan all this time, we got eyes on Ian.”

He hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure?” He sounded more scared than angry now. I hummed a “yes” in response. “Baby, listen to me right now.”

I bit my lip. “I’m listening, Sir.”

He chuckled slightly. “If you get eyes on Doyle, you need to take the shot. Got it? Don’t let him get away again.” He sounded out of breath now like he was running around. “I’m coming back to help.”

I felt my heart skip a beat and the air leave my lungs with one shocked gasp. He was coming back. After three months, I was finally going to get to hold him in my arms again, and I was going to get to kiss his lips again. Holy shit. He was coming home. My husband was coming back to me. I almost wanted to dance and cheer, scream from the top of my lungs how happy I was and that I couldn’t wait to see him; but I had to show a modicum of respect still, so I buried that feeling until I would get to see him again.

“You can do that?” I questioned cautiously. As happy as I was, could he really just abandon his post to come back like that? It sounded almost too good to be true.

“I put in the request to transfer back to Quantico about two weeks ago.” And he didn’t tell me? “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up on anything; but they don’t need me here anymore, so it’s not a big deal if they find a replacement.” I hopped slightly with joy and giggled. Hotch chuckled at me. “I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Even considering the circumstances, I couldn’t wait to see him either. “Call me when you’re landing.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

By the time Garcia followed traffic camera footage across the state just to see where Doyle was hiding out, we had a SWAT team with snipers on call, and the team was ready to head out there. Just as I had ordered, Rossi and Reid headed to get Declan, but the drive was pretty far, so I didn’t expect to hear from them for a while, especially while we were in the early stages of staking out Doyle’s place. Morgan, JJ, and I were trapped in a van across the street from his apartment while SWAT was just down the road, and they had two snipers up on separate roofs. All of it was my call, though. The second we had reasonable cause to believe that it was actually Ian Doyle up there, I would be the one to dictate if the snipers or Morgan would be taking the shot, like Hotch said.

“That’s all Hotch said? ‘Take the shot’?” JJ questioned warily. I nodded and shrugged. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing…”

I eyed her suspiciously for a moment, taking into account how her gaze wasn’t resting on one thing, but instead a thousand different things, like she was too anxious to focus. It was odd, but I shrugged it off with the excuse that finding Doyle was a big deal. Since he killed Prentiss, we had all been itching to find him and avenge her. Out of everyone, I knew that JJ would want to know that Doyle was dead because of us. She wanted that justice. I couldn’t exactly tell why, but she had always been like that, especially since getting promoted to being a profiler.

And then my phone started ringing with a call from Spencer who had just arrived at Declan’s house. I figured it was just an update. I mean, him and Rossi were there to simply pick up Declan and Louise, that was it. But then something worrying happened when I picked up the call: Reid sounded concerned.

“Reid?”

“Declan’s missing,” he answered quickly.

“What?”

“We just searched the house, and he’s gone, so we called the school to see if he even made it home, and they told us that his mom picked him up early.”

“Louise?” I speculated.

“I doubt it.” He sounded annoyed now. “She’s dead.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, then looked up at Morgan and JJ to tell them what was going on. They also cursed, and he hit the side of the car. “Okay. Reid, you and Rossi should meet us here in case we end up seeing—” The sound of a police car’s siren flew past our van, catching our attention. It was just a squad car. No, no, no, no. Fuck. That was going to scare Doyle off. Fuck.

“He’s inside!” Morgan exclaimed. We all turned to face the window to see the drape in Doyle’s apartment window shaking like it had just been disturbed. “I saw him!” Morgan was already fiddling with the door handle and pushing his way out of the car.

“Shit…” This wasn’t at all how I imagined this going down. We were supposed to just monitor the situation, get legitimate confirmation that Doyle was in there, not just Morgan claiming he saw him— But what choice did we have now? “Go, go, go,” I made the call, following Morgan out of the van and hanging up the call with Reid.

JJ, Morgan, and I raced inside first, the SWAT van pulling up behind us and the team moving in, too. When we reached the apartment number, JJ and I stood our ground in the hallway with our weapons raised, and I gave Morgan the signal to kick the door down, which he did without hesitating, and then he dashed inside. The three of us took turned towards different sides of the apartment in order to clear it. Morgan went straight into the living room/bedroom, JJ went into the bathroom on the left, and I stepped into the tiny kitchen on the right. He wasn’t there. Neither was Declan. Reid said that they couldn’t find Declan, so I only assumed that Doyle got to him first. Fuck! How the fuck did he—

“I’ve got something!” Morgan called out. I hurried into the living room/bedroom to see him peeking up at the ceiling inside of the closet. I cocked a brow and carefully approached. “He’s climbing to the roof.” There was a hole in the ceiling for some kind of secret tunnel that led upwards.

“Follow him,” I ordered. “I’ll take the steps. JJ, watch the door downstairs to make sure he doesn’t get out, and coordinate with SWAT to make sure that the block is locked down just in case. Get a crime scene team here to see if Declan was ever here.”

Morgan holstered his weapon then quickly pulled himself up into the tunnel to follow Doyle, meanwhile I hurried out into the hallway to start sprinting up the rest of the stairs, and JJ ran down them. How the fuck did this happen? How did we lose Declan like this, and how was Doyle actually planning on getting out of this?

And then I burst out onto the roof to see Morgan chasing after Doyle who was running for the fire escape on the side of the building. Morgan aimed his weapon, but didn’t shoot. Instead, he tried commanding Doyle to stop. Like that would help.

“I’ve got the shot,” one of the snipers said over the comms.

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. “Don’t!” I knew what Hotch said about taking the shot if given the chance, but things were different now that we couldn’t find Declan in the apartment. Our only way of getting him back now was by keeping his father alive. Asshole. “Hold your fire!” When nothing came, Morgan tackled Doyle and spun him onto his stomach so that he could be handcuffed. “You got it?” I asked him. He nodded while slapping the cuffs on Doyle. “I’ll have JJ take him back to the office while we start going through everything downstairs.”

Morgan groaned as he yanked Doyle up onto his feet. “You’re not gonna let me take a crack at him?”

“Not yet.”

Doyle chuckled. I squinted at him while searching his eyes for a reason that he could have possibly found this funny. He noticed my curiosity. “Lauren was right about you.”

Morgan tugged on Doyle’s restraints to make them hurt. “Shut up.”

Doyle kept laughing as Morgan pushed him towards the stairwell so that JJ could take him to the office like I had ordered. My only question, however, was, what the hell did he mean by that? Lauren was right about me? Right about what? The question lingered in my head as I sighed and moved to walk downstairs, too.

Afterwards, hours passed while we were combing through Doyle’s apartment, trying to find clues about where he must have taken Declan, as well as compiling evidence connecting him to Valhalla and Prentiss’s death. For someone in hiding, there was a lot he had with him. Usually, people in his situation would stay minimalist and wouldn’t have all of their condemning evidence in one spot, but Doyle was so cocky that he wouldn’t get caught that he didn’t bother to keep any of his current business elsewhere. There were so many guns in that one apartment that we could have started another small army. I couldn’t understand how on Earth someone would need all of that. Then again, Doyle already had a small army, and the reason they needed to smuggle all of those weapons out of the state was so that he could maintain power in Europe while he was underground. Well, looked like all of that was worthless now.

I sighed as I stepped outside of that tiny, dirty, smelly, cramped apartment for the first time in over ten hours. It really took that long. Doyle had been sitting at the office the entire time, brewing in his own thoughts, which was our strategy to break him. If he was left in darkness and silence long enough, he would open up. Hopefully. At least, Morgan and I would give it a shot when we would head back to the office. For now, we were down tearing the entire apartment to shreds. The bastard even had papers hiding behind the wallpaper.

When my phone started buzzing in my pocket, I sighed again and dug it out. “Hotchner,” I answered.

“Mmm… I could get used to that,” Hotch’s voice echoed over the phone, making me melt.

I perked up within an instant while looking down at my watch, spotting the time and how long it had been since he last called me, and how he promised he would call when he was close to landing in Virginia. Finally, I thought. “How close are you?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

It was almost morning already. He was probably going to be landing just as the sun would start to peek over the tall buildings of Quantico. “I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Y/N, you should stay—”

“Nope,” I interrupted adamantly.

Hotch chuckled. “You’re really going to be a brat about this right now?”

“Mhm. You can scold me for it when you see me.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, sunshine,” Morgan said, sneaking up behind me, “you ready to go?”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, baby,” I told Hotch. Before he could say anything in return, though, I hung up on him. I hid my grin as I buried my phone in my back pocket, then turned to face Morgan. “Can you handle the interrogation for a bit while I head to the airport?”

“He’s back already?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan nodded. “Go get him.” We smiled at each other. “No detours, though, sunshine. There and back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I responded half-heartedly while already walking away from him. “Just remember, when this is over with, you and Clooney are going home!”

----

To say I was nervous would have been a drastic understatement. I had gone four months without seeing him. Four months without his touch, his kiss, his hold, his love. A lot could change in four months. People could grow apart in four months. I was absolutely terrified that even though we called each other every day, we might not have been the same Hotchners who said goodbye to each other at the airport a few months ago. I knew that I still loved him endlessly— maybe even more now that I had been starved of him for so long. But I didn’t know what happened to him out there. I didn’t know what new experiences he had that could have possibly changed him. For all I knew, he could walk off that plane in a few minutes and walk right past me without a care. I just prayed that he was still Aaron. That the man I fell in love with would walk off that plane and know exactly how to hold me again. It was like I could already feel his touch, even though the plane’s engines hadn’t died out yet. He was so far, but he was so damn close. This was the closest we had been in four fucking months, and I was just so ready to see him already.

The plane came to a slow and steady stop on the runway. With every second that passed, I felt a growing need to throw up everywhere. He was probably sitting in there, watching me through the window, grinning ear to ear because I looked so nervous and sick. He could likely see me, yet I couldn’t see anything but the sun in my eyes. He was always an asshole, but he even had to beat me to the first look. Asshole x2.

The door of the jet popped open, and it started slowly falling down towards the concrete, the stairs on the inside making a slow appearance. I thought about what was going to happen. How was I going to react? How was he going to react? Was it better to stay where I was or was it better to meet him at the bottom of the steps? I felt like even if I wanted to move towards the plane, I wouldn’t have been able to. I was frozen in place as my mind raced with questions and endless possibilities. But there was one thing that was consistent: I was going to hold my husband in my arms, and I was going to tell him that I loved him over and over again until I passed out.

The second I saw a foot step out of the jet, I started sprinting as fast as I could without stopping to think. The rest of him emerged, and Hotch looked around for me. After spotting me from the top of the stairs, Hotch jumped down the steps, dropped his bag on the runway, and started running towards me, too. He held his arms out, an invitation for me to jump and hold him tight, so that was exactly what I did. Our bodies clashed, but he still managed to catch me, even though the force sent him stumbling back a few unwanted steps. My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his hips, my face buried in the crook of his neck. It didn’t matter that he smelled like sweat, sand, and cheap deodorant, because he was finally home with me and that was all that mattered. Hell, I even enjoyed the smell since it just meant that I had him in my arms again.

I squeezed him tight with my arms and legs after he nuzzled his face— beard, sunglasses, and all— into the crook of my neck. The aching in my chest, my broken heart that had been falling apart during every second that he was away from me, slowly started to mend with every breath we took together. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry, scream, cheer, laugh, or all of the above. Every single emotion imaginable was flooding my body and the only way I could cope with it was by nearly squeezing the life out of him while repeating: “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over in his ear. I never wanted to stop saying it. I prayed that he would never let me go again and that we could say those three words until there was no more breath in our lungs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” we kept whispering like we were records stuck on repeat. Fuck, I missed the way he said it to me. I missed the way he said my name and the way he called me “baby”. Nothing felt more right than how he spoke to me and how he kissed my neck in between words.

When his beard started tickling my neck, I finally paused to let out a giggle. I leaned back, his arms still around my torso to hold me for support, and I got a good look at him for the first time in months. There was no screen between us, no shitty computer cameras, no god awful Skype buffer, no speakers that cut out every other word. He looked so different than how I remembered him. His face was slimmed behind the scratchy beard he had grown, and his eyes were more sunken with exhaustion— if that were even possible. Aaron Hotchner always had dark circles under his eyes, that was no secret. Between work, the kids, and wrangling me, Hotch never had time to sleep; but Pakistan kicked his ass, and I could see it in every little detail about him.

He watched me with the brightest smile I had ever seen on his face as I brought my left hand up to his face and scratched my nails gently down his beard. “This is even hotter in person,” I smirked.

“It has to go the second I get an electric shaver,” he laughed.

My smirk fell and I pouted, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “But I have literally never wanted to fuck you harder in my entire life.”

He paused and gulped. “Okay, so maybe it can stay for a few days.”

I perked up again at my little victory and scratched it again. “Please don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

“I’d rather die than go away again.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic, Agent Hotchner.” I hit his shoulder playfully. He grinned before tightening his arms around me again to make me lean in for a kiss. I grabbed his face, the hairs on his cheeks tickling my palms as I did so, and I moaned into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

His eyes screwed shut as he slid his tongue into the kiss and claimed dominance. I missed that feeling so much. I missed how he tasted, how he smelled, how he felt, how he had to dominate me every second of every day. I missed getting lost in his eyes and staring at his lips all day until I could finally kiss them until our lips were chapped. If there weren’t a million and one things going on outside of that airport, I would have begged him to take me inside and fuck me in the bathroom. It should have been impossible to need him that much considering everything that was going on with Ian Doyle, yet there I was, only thinking about showing Aaron Hotchner how much I loved him.

Hotch pulled away from my lips, but he kept his nose pressed to mine. “Emily?”

“At home with Jessica.”

“Jack?”

“At school.”

“You?”

“The most relieved I have ever been in my life.” I leaned in and kissed him again. I thought to myself: “Please, never let this end. Let us stay trapped in each other’s arms forever. Never let us get tired of kissing each other, of holding each other, of saying ‘I love you’. Never let the desperation for passion die. Never let me miss him ever again. Keep him by my side until we die of old age. Please.”

And just like he could read my mind, Hotch loosened his hold on me ever so slightly, making me drop down to my feet, and he said, “We should get back to the office.”

I shook my head. “Just… One more minute… Please.”

“One more minute will turn into an hour at least, you know that.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No, it isn’t.” Hotch cupped my cheeks and kissed me as hard as he could. After a short minute of him kissing me like he had been starved of it for years, Hotch pushed me away. Our hands fell to our sides and I bit my lip while I tried to focus on not jumping on him again. “We have to go.”

I tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace. It took every ounce of strength and self-restraint I had stored away to not jump back on him and kiss him again. I felt like I was going to cry because he wasn’t in my arms again. I felt like screaming and kicking— throwing a tantrum like Jack would. I felt like at any moment, the two of us would break, and I would tackle him to the ground before showering him in kisses and pinning him down so that he couldn’t leave me again.

Hotch stumbled away from me to grab his go-bag from where he dropped it because he had the same look I had, and I knew that he was sharing the same thoughts. When he came back, he took my hand, and we walked towards the car. I started catching him up on everything we knew about the case thus far. Ian and Declan, all of Ian’s business papers that he had in his apartment. I realized then just how little we actually knew. Hopefully by the time we got back to the office, Morgan would have something out of Doyle that would help.

I drove the whole way to Quantico because he was too tired from the flight and the time zones. He had one of my hands trapped in his instead of on the steering wheel, and he kept kissing my knuckles again and again. He wasn’t listening to me. Not that I blamed him. If he wanted to just talk shop and I was sitting there, not distracted by driving, I would’ve been antsy to shower him in love, too. But Morgan said no detours. As much as it pained me, he was right that there really wasn’t any time to drive home, or even pull to the side of the road to fuck Hotch. I really, really wanted to, though; so, I figured the longer I distracted myself with work, the better off we would be. After this, though… Once this was all resolved… I wasn’t letting him go.

At the office, Hotch and I headed up to the sixth floor, somehow managing to go that entire time without touching each other. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to hold him again. While we were standing in the elevator, I stared at him and thought about pushing him against the wall, but it wasn’t worth it right now. I hated this inner battle I was having to fight between wanting him all to myself in that very moment and just focusing wholeheartedly on the case. The worst thought hit me suddenly… Maybe it would have been better if he didn’t come back so soon… I mean, he was just so distracting, I felt like I couldn’t celebrate this win as much as I should’ve been.

And then we stepped onto the floor.

“Hey.” Hotch grabbed my hand, tugging me back a few steps towards him. “You trust me, right?”

I furrowed my brows as I turned to face him. Of course I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I? He was my husband, and we made a promise to each other a long time ago to not keep any secrets from one another. I had no reason to doubt him. I wouldn’t have met him at the airport like that if I didn’t trust and love him wholeheartedly.

“You know that I do everything for a reason?”

What was he on about? Was there something I missed between meeting him at the airport and walking into the building with him? Why was he suddenly acting so weird?

I put my hands on his biceps. “Listen. I know that you told me you were in an all guys unit. If there’s something you want to say about it, I’m all ears. And I’m going to support you no matter what.” I bit back a smile.

Hotch cracked a smile. “No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I mean.”

“Phew.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I thought I was going to have to give you the birds and the bees talk, and how love is love—”

“Shut up.” He laughed before kissing me.

I pushed him back gently. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to cheat on me, it should at least be with a guy so that you get to experiment a bit.” I patted his chest.

He was still laughing quietly. “What am I going to do with you, Agent Hotchner?”

“I don’t know, Agent Hotchner,” I responded as I let him pull me back in for another kiss. “I’m sure you’ll think of something before we get home after this case, though.” I pecked his lips again, then escaped into the board room.

Everyone was standing behind the round table, huddled together as they discussed something about the case. It seemed as though Morgan had just finished his first attempt at getting information out of Doyle, to no avail. They were discussing how he was going to approach the second try, but no one’s ideas seemed to stick since Morgan had an excuse for why none of it would work. It was like we had hit a dead end, even though Doyle was the end, technically. He was the one who took Declan, and he was the one who took our sister from us. Prentiss was dead because of him, and we weren’t going to let him get away this time.

When Hotch walked into the room, everyone fell silent and turned to get a look at him. Hotch really didn’t seem to care about our no PDA at work rule now, because as everyone’s eyes lingered on him and his beard, Hotch came over to me, took my hand in his, and kissed my cheek. A lot changed for him in the Middle East, I guess. He missed me and he didn’t care what rules we had. He wanted to just have me around all the time, and I couldn’t blame him. But, technically, I was still the unit chief until Hotch could officially come back, and I couldn’t let us break the rules. Now I understood why Hotch was always so adamant about me behaving while at work. It was excruciatingly painful to not touch and kiss him just because I was the boss and had to set an example.

I moved away from Hotch, taking my seat at the round table. Everyone followed my lead warily, their eyes still trained on Hotch. Him and JJ didn’t sit, though. They were the only ones who stayed on their feet at the front of the room. Hotch had his arms crossed, a frown hiding under his facial hair, his eyes wandering around the room as he thought nervously about something. This had to do with him asking about my trust, but I didn’t understand how. Him worrying about something and not telling me almost immediately was only making me worry, too. He needed to spit it out fast or I would go insane.

“Everything alright, Hotch?” Morgan asked, also taking notice of Hotch’s clear unease.

Hotch didn’t nod or give any kind of reassurance that everything was alright. Instead, he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet— a silent tell that something was definitely wrong. He kept his head down now, only glancing up through his lashes occasionally to look at me. A thought struck me that maybe my joke wasn’t really a joke in the hallway. Four months was a long time to go without me, and it probably didn’t help that all he got was shitty phone sex. Maybe he really did change out there in the desert. Maybe he was showering me in love because he was going to drop a huge ass bomb that said: “I’m leaving you” or “I’m quitting the BAU and running away forever” or “I’m taking the kids and you’ll never see them again.” Every shit scenario possible was racing through my head. Like I said, if he wasn’t going to spit it out soon, I was going to start screaming for answers.

“Nine months ago,” Hotch began, “I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Prentiss lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. We told you that she succumbed to her wounds…” He hesitated a beat. “That’s not really the case.”

Shock filled the room as it dawned on each of us what Hotch was really saying. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions because I really, really didn’t want to get my hopes up… but it sounded like he was telling us that Prentiss was alive. That over the past seven months, we have been led to believe that she died in that hospital.

“The truth is, the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

My shoulders fell. So, it was true. Emily Prentiss was alive. The woman we mourned the loss of for seven months was… still around all along? That was why Hotch asked if I trusted him. That was why he was being so handsy. He knew that I hated it when he kept things from me. He knew that I hated it when he would betray my trust like this. I yelled at him for weeks the last time he did it— which was our suspension over two years ago. He was asking about trust and touching me as often as he could because he didn’t know if this admission of the truth was going to break us apart. This wasn’t like him lying and going to ask for a transfer out of the BAU. This wasn’t like him lying to me about his health. This was Emily Prentiss. This was our sister we lost in the field. We buried her. Why did Hotch… What… I— My thoughts were too scrambled to form another cohesive thought other than: “How could he do this to us?”

“After she got better, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given multiple fake identities so that she could be safe,” Hotch continued.

“She’s alive?” Spencer finally asked the clarifying question we were all dying to know the answer to.

Hotch nodded shortly, keeping his eyes lowered. He wasn’t even looking at me now because of the shame and guilt he likely felt.

“But we buried her,” Spencer croaked.

Hotch nodded again. “If anyone has any issues with the executive decision that I made, then they can take it up with me.”

“Issues?” Morgan asked angrily. “Issues, Hotch? Yeah, I’ve got a few issues, but why don’t you start with the fact that you let your own wife believe that Emily was dead and let them name your daughter after her because of it, hmm? Don’t you think that you owe Y/N an explanation?”

“Morgan,” I hissed quietly. It was neither the time nor the place to discuss my daughter. I had a few choice words for Hotch running through my head, but I fully intended on keeping them to myself until Hotch and I could speak privately.

“Emily’s alive, Y/N. How are you going to explain that to your daughter as she grows up?”

“Stop it,” I demanded more harshly.

There wasn’t anything Morgan could say to me that I didn’t already know. Hotch had betrayed everything we believed in and promised each other. He had told me countless times since meeting me that he would never lie to me, and every time he ended up breaking that promise, he would tell me that it wouldn’t happen again. But there we were. Another promise broken. Even worse, though, was the fact that he made a vow to me on our wedding day that he would always be honest with me. Always. And yet he kept this a secret from me. Did he not trust that I could have kept it a secret? Morgan was right, I was owed an explanation. Hotch kept this from me, his wife for nine months. What else was he hiding? How was I ever supposed to trust him again?

I stood from my seat and turned for the door. No one said anything as I took a step but came to a sudden halt when I discovered that my path was blocked by someone in my way. I felt like I was going to pass out. There was she was: Emily Prentiss… standing right in front of me. Back from the dead.

She let out a sigh of regret, but also relief, when our eyes met. She looked sorry about how all of this happened. And she should have been. Morgan sat on our couch for months, crying because he missed her so much. I named my daughter after her because I missed her so much and I wanted her memory to be remembered. What was it all for, though, now that was standing there? What was the point now? Morgan was right to be vocally angry because he knew that I couldn’t. But as mad as I was at Hotch, I felt an overwhelming need to hug her. I crashed into her. I didn’t hesitate. Nine months without her. Nine fucking months.

Emily caught me as I embraced her as tightly as I could. She rubbed small circles on my back as she held me close. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

I sniffled into her shoulder while I hugged her tighter. She was there. Like, really there. I wasn’t dreaming or hoping anymore. It was her. Our family was back. And I was just so relieved. I couldn’t even be mad at her. But I could tell as I pulled away from Emily and turned to look at the room with her that Morgan was pissed beyond compare. Everyone was crying because they were so grateful for the fact that she was still alive. However, Morgan wasn’t. He was standing there, pouting with disbelief, his hands curled into shaky fists that were holding in all of his anger.

She carefully let go of me and approached Morgan. “Derek, you have to believe me when I tell you that not a day went by where I didn’t think about you guys and how sorry I am that things turned out this way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t deserve to know that you were alive?” he questioned through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t deserve to hold a dying friend in your arms.” Prentiss extended her arms for another hug, a silent offer for him, which he took slowly, as if he were afraid that he would fall right through her like she was some kind of ghost. When they embraced, however, I saw Morgan’s anger wash away. Now, he was just broken. “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her waist as tight as he could for as long as he could before she tapped out and parted from him. She turned to face me again. “I want to meet baby Emily, if you’ll let me, once this is all over.”

I nodded, still too hesitant to say anything.

She smiled. “Okay… For now, I just want to focus on finding Declan and bringing him home safe. What do you guys know so far?”

Reid immediately jumped to his feet like this was his moment to shine, and he started asking her questions about Declan, Ian, and Louise, but I couldn’t hear anything. Everything seemed so washed out and distant. The only thing that was clear to me was the shame on my husband’s face as I stood there, staring at him, silently letting him know just how badly he had fucked up this time around. He could hardly look me in the eyes.

“Can I see you in my office?” he asked.

Everyone watched us silently, wondering if I would correct him on the fact that it was my office now. Or maybe they were waiting with anticipation to see if I was going to blow him off considering I had been glaring at him the entire time since I found out that Prentiss was alive this whole time—and he knew! But that was exactly why I indulged him. I didn’t correct him, I didn’t argue with him, I didn’t embarrass him. I simply followed him to his office.

I sat in my chair at my desk, which all used to be his before he left. He sat down across from me in one of the seats I would sit in whenever I was called to meet with him in his office. He seemed so out of his element in that chair, and, honestly, I was glad. I wanted him to be uncomfortable. I wanted him to be physically and emotionally uneasy because that was how I felt every day while he was away, and that was how I felt since finding out that our daughter’s namesake was actually alive and well.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I inquired, reclining back. He shook his head. “You were going to just let me think that she was dead in order to, what, make me feel better about naming our daughter after her? Why didn’t you try to stop me—”

“I did try. I asked you if there were really no other names you could think of, but you were so adamant about it and I couldn’t tell you the truth; so, I just had to let it happen.”

“Is that why you left?”

Hotch froze for a moment while searching my eyes, and before he even began nodding, I knew the answer. He sighed. “It was hard to keep lying to everyone, but it felt impossible to keep lying to you specifically, especially since you took Emily’s death so hard… So, I just… I ran.”

“So, you would have stayed if I knew the truth?”

“Yes.”

I scoffed and let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Baby, I am so sorry, you have to believe me. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did.”

“Yeah, well, you had a choice in that, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I was just trying to protect her—"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, proceeded by Garcia cautiously stepping into the office. “Sorry, ma’am, but I found something.”

I nodded her over, holding my hand out for the file of information she put together. Hotch eyed me. Usually, it was him sitting in my current seat, ignoring me in his seat as he accepted another file from Garcia who had addressed him in the first place. Everything felt so backwards. But, then again, maybe that was what he deserved now that I knew that he had been lying to me this entire time.

“I was narrowing down a list of Doyle’s top ten enemies from what we know and what Morgan’s getting out of him. The only one who’s been in the states recently is Mr. Richard Gerace. He’s been here for the past two weeks with a work visa.”

“Is there any way to connect him to this?” I asked while flipping through the file.

“The guy who cut off the camera feed at Declan’s house had a scar on his neck...” She turned the next page for me and pointed to a mugshot of Gerace. He had the same exact scar on his neck, meaning it was definitely him who took Declan.

“Get me everything you can on him, please, Penelope,” I said while closing the file and setting it down on my desk. She hesitated. “What is it?”

“That’s everything I have.”

I sighed. “Can you call Prentiss in, please?”

“Sure…”

“Thank you.”

When she left, I sighed and looked at Hotch again. Neither of us said anything as we stared at each other uncomfortably, a barrier of trust broken between us now. I didn’t like it when he lied to me. Every time I told him not to lie to me, he promised he wouldn’t, and then he would, and I would be mad for a few days before forgiving him and moving on. How much longer was I supposed to put up with it? I couldn’t even count how many times he lied to me on my fingers anymore. Meanwhile, I could count the number of times I lied to him on one hand. At some point, enough was going to be enough, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to be soon. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t keep living with the lies. What was more important to him? Me or protecting his secrets? If the answer wasn’t immediately me, then there was an entirely different conversation we needed to have at some point that included what our future was going to look like.

“We’re going to talk later,” I finally told him.

As we were coming back to the office together, Hotch stopped to ask if I trusted him, and at the time, of course I did… But now? I wasn’t so sure. Then again, I’d said that a dozen times before when he pulled this shit. The worst part was, that I knew that I was going to end up crawling back to him, and it was going to be an excuse for him to lie to me all over again.

Hotch nodded. “Yeah…”

There was another knock at the door, this time from Prentiss, who seemed too shy to invite herself in, even though I had requested her presence. I waved her in.

“Gerace,” I said, holding the file out for her. She slowly walked over and accepted it. “Garcia thinks that he’s the one who took Declan.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted before even looking at the file. I waited for her to explain why she thought that. “Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago, and he’s too much of a coward to pull something like this off. Not to mention how meticulous the abduction was. Gerace doesn’t have that level of patience and organization.”

I scoffed and wiped my palms over my face. “He was our only suspect and lead.”

“I mean…” She flipped through the file. “That’s definitely Gerace’s scar… So, I suppose he had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t say he’s solely responsible. If he’s working with a partner, he’s definitely the submissive.” She flipped another page. “Hold on—” I looked up at her. “Look at this.” She turned the file to show me one of the shots from the security footage of Gerace turning the cameras off. “Look in the background.” There was a woman standing there, watching Gerace while cocking a gun at her side. Prentiss’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “This might have something to do with Declan’s birth mother, considering the overkill towards Louise, who was Declan’s mother figure throughout his entire life.”

“Do you know who she is?”

She shook her head. “No. Doyle never told me.”

“Would you be willing to go in and get the information out of him now?”

She looked between me and Hotch, almost as if she were waiting for permission from him, but then she recalled that I was calling the shots right now until Hotch could be reinstated into the unit by Strauss and Cody. She finally gave in. “I don’t mind giving it a shot.”

Since Prentiss was still just a visitor, she couldn’t technically be allowed to wander the floor on her own. Even though she knew exactly where the interrogation room was and how to get there the fastest, I still had to usher her there. So, without saying anything to Hotch, I started walking out. Prentiss watched him silently for a moment before deciding to follow me.

“You know,” she said while catching up to me on the ramp outside of my office, “unit chief suits you.”

“It won’t last long. It’s just until Hotch can come back.”

We continued on towards the interrogation room in silence. When we stepped into the mirror room, I saw that Morgan and JJ were there, watching Doyle who was sitting on his own, staring at the wall while he silently thought and worried about his missing son. With others around to “officially” watch Prentiss, I took my leave almost immediately, heading back to my office so that I could sit down, catch my breath, and have a moment to think.

When I got there, Hotch was already gone. I glanced across the bullpen to see that he was in the boardroom with Rossi, Reid, and Garcia, all of them working on finding who Declan’s mother was in case that was the next fresh lead we would get from Doyle. They were fine on their own. For just a few minutes, I could disappear, and no one would notice. So, I closed the door, spun the dial of the blinds until they were shut tight, and I immediately broke down. I didn’t even make it to my chair or the couch. I just fell right then and there.

I started crying with my face hiding in my hands. Getting Hotch back should have been the best thing in the world, and yet it felt so shitty. I hated that he lied to me again. I hated that things went down like that. I hated that our daughter was mixed up in the drama of it all now just because of her name. I hated that I was mad at the love of my life after just getting him back, because instead of wanting to hold him close until our last breath, I wanted to kick his ankles until my anger was gone—If my anger would ever go away.

And then there was a knock at the door.

I tried catching my breath and calming down enough to wipe my tears away, but the door opened before I could collect myself entirely. I hid my face in the shadows. It didn’t matter who it was because I was just hoping that they would leave me alone now that they saw me collapsed on the floor and hiding my face while sniffling.

“Sunshine?”

I let out a choked sob when I realized that it was Morgan who had followed me from the mirror room to my office. “What?”

He knelt beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Come here…” He turned me slightly until I was facing him, and we immediately pulled each other in for a tight hug. I hid my face in his shirt, letting my tears soak the fabric without care. “It’s okay. I promise. Just breathe.” He rubbed circles on my back to help me calm down slowly.

I started to catch my breath by sucking in deep breaths and letting out short ones. “You shouldn’t have brought up Emily earlier,” I whispered.

He had been completely out of line when he brought up my daughter in the context of Prentiss still being alive. That was a conversation for me and my husband to have at a later time when we could talk privately. It didn’t give him permission to put our predicament on blast. I was sure that everyone had been thinking it, too. I mean, they were all probably wondering the same thing I was, which was what the hell were Hotch and I going to do now that Prentiss, our daughter’s namesake was back? But, honestly, it was none of their business. Yes, Morgan was her godfather, but he wasn’t her father, therefore, he had no say. He would be the first to know when a decision would be made, of course, but not before then.

I slid out of his arms and fell back against the wall carefully to just sit there and stare into the darkness. “It wasn’t fair,” I continued.

“I’m sorry, cupcake…” He slid down the wall to sit beside me, then took one of my cold hands in his. “My emotions have just been all over the place, and I snapped when I didn’t mean to. I know that’s not an excuse, but…” He sighed.

“I get it.” I rested my head on his shoulder. Of all people, I understood the most how Morgan felt.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Kind of…”

“Are you going to forgive him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Morgan swung his arm around me so that he could hug me close to his side. “Do you ever just miss the old days when things were so simple? Gideon and Elle were still on the team. Pretty boy was still dorky and quiet all the time. Hotch actually talked to us and trusted us.”

“You mean talked to you and trusted you.” I chuckled. “He didn’t talk to me when I first joined the team.”

“Yeah, because he had a schoolgirl crush on you. That doesn’t mean he didn’t trust you. But wasn’t it so much easier back then when you two weren’t together, and everything was just about putting the back guys away, and nothing was ever personal…” He sighed. “I think we just haven’t been the same ever since the Fisher King.”

He was right. That was the first case where we were all effected personally, and an Unsub got under our skin, and tore our family apart. I mean, I assumed that it was because of Randall Garner that my sister left the BAU. If we had never gotten mixed up in that case, maybe she and Gideon would still be around. But then again, if that were the case, then we wouldn’t’ve had Rossi or Emily on the team, and I was genuinely happy that I knew them and that they were apart of our family now. Rossi was Hotch’s best friend who liked to help me pick on him from time to time. Emily was one of my closest friends… At least before she left. I didn’t know where we stood now. That was what Morgan meant by things being easier back in the day, though, I supposed. Things weren’t so messy.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed quietly.

----

Not even an hour later, Prentiss had already convinced Doyle to tell us who the mother of his child was and how to find her. With Garcia’s help, we managed to track her down. Her name was Chloe Donaghy, and she was a notorious crime lord who ran a human trafficking and prostitution ring. She and Ian had met about eight years before Prentiss met him. When she found out that she was pregnant with Declan, she tried to kill herself to make sure that his son would never be born, but Doyle stopped her before she could even swallow a single pill, and from that point on during the pregnancy, she was his prisoner. He kept her locked away. She was chained to a bed in a locked room in his heavily guarded home for seven months straight. She was given a healthy diet for herself and the baby, and Doyle had a doctor go to check on her every other week or so to make sure that they were still okay. Once she had the baby, however, she left. She wanted nothing to do with Declan, and everyone knew it, so Doyle practically paid her to stay away and to never tell a soul about their son.

However, once she found out that Ian was a wanted man and was in hiding, she decided that she wanted a piece of him in the name of revenge. So, she got the same idea as us. Knowing that Ian would try to find Declan, she waited until someone found him first—which happened to be us—and once she knew where her son was, she jumped at the opportunity to take him when everyone was too distracted to notice. We managed to track her down to Baltimore. It looked like she and Gerace took Declan down there, and they were planning on selling him to another one of Doyle’s enemies, a man by the name of Lachlan. That wasn’t good. If Declan left U.S. soil, there was nothing we could do. It would be left up to the CIA or another agency similar to them, but they wouldn’t care. So, I made a call.

I decided that the best way to ensure that little boy would never die at the hands of a revenge driven monster like Lachlan was to have our team pursue this. I knew the risks involved with the choice. I knew that my career was on the line, and that I would inevitably be demoted as unit chief—if I were lucky. Worst case scenario, actually, was that I would be fired. But I didn’t care in the moment, because all I could think about was the fact that there was a little boy out there, wondering why his own mother was doing this, and why he was facing danger again. And then I thought about Jack. Declan was around Jack’s age. I couldn’t bear to think that it could have been Jack in Declan’s shoes, and that if that were the case, I would want someone to fight for him until he was safe at home.

So, I made the call to use Doyle as a pawn in our game. We loaded Doyle into an SUV with myself, Hotch, and Morgan, and we drove down to the airstrip where Garcia found out that Chloe and Lachlan were catching a flight at together. Emily was against the idea. She was concerned that Doyle was going to get away, or that Chloe was going to get Declan and Ian, and all of this was for nothing. I wasn’t going to let that happen. We were going to get Declan back, and we weren’t going to let Doyle get away. After everything that happened over the past few months, I was going to die before fucking this up.

“You wanna do it, or should I?” Hotch asked as we pulled up to the jet on the runway. I gestured that he could go for it, but I didn’t look at him or say anything in response. I still wasn’t ready to do that much. “Okay.” Morgan handed him the megaphone, and Hotch stepped out of the car to announce, “Lachlan McDermott and Cloe Donaghy, this is the FBI. We know that you have Declan Doyle. To ensure his safety, we would like to make a trade. Declan for Ian Doyle.”

That was our cue to show off Doyle to the world, so Morgan and I pulled him out of the car, making sure that our grip on him was strong enough that he couldn’t wiggle out. And then we heard a gunshot, and I saw a muzzle flash from within the jet. No. No, no, no. There was no way they just killed Declan. I refused to believe it, but just in case it was true, we kept Doyle close to the car so that we could stuff him back in and drive off if we had to.

Suddenly, the door of the jet started falling open, revealing the steps that Lachlan started storming down with Declan in front of him. I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the same time as Ian. It didn’t last long, however, since Lachlan immediately put a gun to Declan’s head.

“Bring him here!” Lachlan demanded, referencing Doyle.

Hotch looked over at me. “You’re still the unit chief. It’s your call.”

I sighed quietly while trying to quickly weigh the pros and cons. It certainly wasn’t ideal to put Doyle in Lachlan’s line of fire, but if it was the only way to get Declan…

“Now!” Lachlan yelled.

Within an instant, I was pushing forward, Morgan following lead by helping me move Doyle towards Lachlan. When we were close enough, we pushed him onto his knees and waited for something to happen. Lachlan smiled wickedly. He said something to Doyle, but I wasn’t listening while my attention was trained on Declan and trying to figure out how I was going to grab him on time while Morgan made sure he still had a grip on Doyle. I just had to trust the process, I supposed.

When I heard movement from the jet again, I looked up to see Chloe limping out, holding her stomach from the shot she took from Lachlan. They must have argued about taking our deal. Before I could tell her to stay back, though, I saw how she was raising her arm and aiming at me, Ian, and Morgan.

“Gun!” Morgan shouted, tackling me out of the way just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. I groaned as the wind was knocked out of me. Morgan rolled off me to check to see if I was okay. “Are you hit?” I shook my head. “Doyle—” He spun around on his knees to see Ian falling to the ground while holding his bleeding neck. “Shit.”

Another gunshot fired, this time from Chloe aiming directly at Lachlan, instantly killing him. In retaliation, Hotch, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ all shot down Chloe as fast as they could. Hotch ran over to me, putting his hands on my cheeks while scanning my body with my eyes to make sure that I was alright, the same way Morgan had. I inhaled sharply as I caught my breath. I got that Morgan was just trying to protect me, but did he have to go all high school footballer on me? Fucking hell. We were on concrete. The tackle was worse than getting shot, in my opinion.

“Next time, I make the call. And it won’t be this one,” Hotch whispered to me, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Ha. Ha,” I responded sarcastically. “Help me up.” We clasped our hands together, and he pulled me to my feet, letting me stumble into his chest somewhat before I caught my balance. “Thanks.” I patted his chest. “This is why you’re the unit chief.”

He kissed my forehead. “You thought you were doing the right thing, and that’s all we can ever do.”

I glanced over to Doyle who was reaching out for his son, knowing that it would be the last time. A part of me broke somewhat. As much as I despised Doyle, I had nothing against his son, and seeing a bond between a father and his son, even though they hardly knew each other at all, made me think about Hotch and Jack. It could have been Hotch instead of Haley who died in our house two years ago. We were beyond lucky that he was still with us. That I had a husband who loved me, that our daughter had a father who wanted nothing more than to raise her away from all of this chaos, that our son still had a father who would protect him no matter the cost. We were, by some definition, “lucky” that it wasn’t Hotch and Jack there instead of Ian and Declan.

----

By the time we cleaned up the mess at the airstrip, I had called Jessica and asked if she could bring Emily to the office to surprise Hotch, but also because Prentiss asked if she could meet her, and I felt like after the long day we had, we all deserved that. I mean, she was our little sunshine. If anyone could change the mood entirely, it was her.

So, when we all returned to Quantico, I told security to keep an out for Jessica and the baby—to which they all cheered about how excited they were to see her. The team went up to the boardroom to start tearing down all of the photos and evidence on the walls. Another chapter of our lives closed. Over months, we had been working on a case where we only had a fraction of the pieces. The only person who knew every part of it and could end this once and for all had left, but when she came back, it ended, and now we could just breathe again. We had our family back. That had to count for something.

When I saw Jessica arrive in the elevator, I met her there so that I could still surprise Hotch and Prentiss. “Thank you for bringing her,” I said while crouching down in front of the stroller to see my lil’ bug. She was half awake, but just lucid enough to play with my finger as I wiggled it in her face. “I owe you.”

“It’s no big deal, I swear. I was on my way to pick up Jack from a playdate, and this was on the way, anyhow.”

I glanced up at Jessica. “We can pick him up later. You don’t have to race around for us like this.”

Jessica smiled lightly. “What else am I going to do?”

I stopped to think about that for a moment, considering how we were her only family around now that Haley was gone, and Roy was… Well, Roy didn’t like having Jessica around because she was a very hands-on and task-oriented person when it came to family, and he didn’t like how overbearing and protective she was of him. So, we were the only ones that were around and in need of help. I just felt bad sometimes because it felt like she was our nanny or something. Then again, every time this conversation came up where I would tell her that all of this was unnecessary and that I felt bad, she would always argue that she loved doing it and that it was no big deal. If it really were a problem, she would have ditched us months ago.

“Okay,” I gave in. “We’ll see you at home, then.” I stood to hug her.

“See you at home.”

When we parted, she leaned over to say goodbye to baby Emily quickly, then waved to me as she walked towards the elevator. I waved back shortly before pushing the stroller up the ramp towards the boardroom. Inside, I could see and hear everyone chatting and catching up with one another. Rossi was hogging Aaron. He was so happy to have his buddy back after all this time, but he was still trying to convince him to shave the beard. Over my dead body. I loved that beard, and after everything that man put me through today, I was going to get the chance to scratch my fingers through it as he fucked me. Come hell or high water, I was going to make that happen.

I pushed the stroller into the room, and everyone fell silent. This was the first time Hotch had seen her in… months, and this was the first time Prentiss was going to meet her. Everyone wanted to be witness to it, and no one wanted to disrupt the moment. So, when I spun the stroller around, everyone held their breaths. I tried to ignore them as I pulled the top of stroller back to reveal Emily.

“May I hold her?” Prentiss asked, looking up at me with the brightest smile I had ever seen from her before. I nodded. Prentiss reached into the stroller, buried her hands under Emily, and lifted her up. “Hi, there, baby girl…” Prentiss cooed. Emily kicked and fussed in Prentiss’s arms.

As I watched Prentiss rock Emily side to side in her arms, I felt someone’s arms snake around my waist and pull me backwards into a hug. I smiled and rested my head on Hotch’s shoulder. His beard scratched my cheek slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss against it. I giggled and nuzzled into his touch as much as I could while thinking about how I missed this feeling so bad every single second he was away from me. All those rules we had for so long before he left didn't matter anymore. Not when he had been away and all we wanted was to hold each other and love each other.

“She has your eyes, Hotch,” Prentiss said while Emily giggled. “Yes, you do,” Prentiss teased with the same kind of baby-talk voice everyone used around kids. “You are just too darn cute.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in my ear before kissing me.

“I’m still mad at you, Aaron,” I whispered only for him to hear. He loosened his grip on me somewhat. “And I don’t know when I’ll stop being mad.” He hid his face in the crook of my neck to hide his disappointment from everyone else. “But I know that I love you, and that, with time, I’ll learn to forgive and forget about this. Until then, I just need you to bear with me while I navigate rebuilding what trust I had given you, and asking you to give me answers, or asking that you give me some space—whatever it is, I just need you to understand. Can you do that?”

He nodded against me.

“We’re going to be okay,” I sighed, almost like I was trying to convince myself, too. “We’re going to be okay…”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[cocochannel00]

Divorce Papers

Sometimes it can all get a little too much being the wife of Harry Styles... 

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca/Becca (1)

You couldn't lie to yourself anymore. Harry had been touring for the last 5 month and you were at home with two kids under the age of 3. He rarely called, barley visited home, and was always being photographed and big glitzy parties with a bunch of supermodels. At first, you didn't worry, you and Harry were married after all so there really was no worry, but as time went by you became more and more anxious about the situation. His calls went from daily to once a week at most. At first, you thought it was just the jet lag or the time zones that made it difficult but after hearing from him once in a matter of weeks and being forced to text Jeff to get updates on your husband’s whereabouts, you there was a problem.

You understood it was his job to go tour across the world wherever they sent him but you also knew that Harry was responsible for being a father to your children and that was one thing he was not fulfilling. It was always hard to raise toddlers so close in age but when you have to raise them alone because your husband is MIA, the situation could only get worse from there. Luckily Connor always slept through the night, but Becca would start screaming every few hours with no one to help you, it was starting to take a toll on you. Gemma, Harry's sister, tried to make up for her brother’s absence but it wasn't the same.

You were starting to think your marriage was crumbling. Your friends always said it was going to be hard as marrying a celebrity always came with a high price but you had always believed that love conquers all, although this idea was starting to slip away. You had spent the last 5 months thinking strongly on how to fix this problem but you soon realized that Harry had put in zero effort and went on as if nothing was wrong. This always led to the question, Is it even worth fixing at this point? You didn't know but you would soon find out.

After waking up to your alarm clock going off at 8:00 a.m. you rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up an pee. Becca had just begun teething and you were nearly at your wits end having to cuddle her to bed every 2 hours. You manage to avoid waking her up as you crept downstairs to make yourself some breakfast peacefully before Gemma came over to spend the day with you and your kids. You started brewing some coffee as you desperately tried to keep your eyes open. Putting some bread in the toaster you sat at your island in silence, contemplating moving whether to move at all from that spot all day. As you sat there you suddenly heard feet hitting the floor upstairs as your son slowly made his way down the stair.

"Connor, what are you doing up buddy?" You asked as you picked him up in your arms, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"breakfast mama," he said in his broken English as he pointed at his high chair.

"Ok buddy let's get you something to eat," you said as you grabbed a box of Cheerios and some milk, pouring it all into a bowl. Your doorbell rang just as you finished finding him a spoon and placing a bib around his neck.

Slowly you walk over to the door revealing Gemma standing there with a bag of pastries and chocolate donut (Connor’s favorite).

"Well you look like shit," she said as she walked past you. You rolled your eyes and followed her, closing the door on the way in.

She removed the bowl of cheerios from his table and placed the donut down in-front of Connor as he clapped happily.

Gemma placed a kiss on his forehead before turning around to look at you, "still no call?" She asked quietly. 

That had been the million-dollar question for the past two and a half weeks. No call, no text, no word from Harry. You heard nothing about how the tour was going or when he would have his next break. He had essentially cut off all communications and it was ruining you slowly.

You shook your head looking away, trying not to cry about Harry's lack of presence. Gemma swore under her breath and came up to you, giving you a tight hug.

"(Y/n) I know how bad this is and I know how much you love Harry but you can't keep going like this. You've reached your breaking point and this has become an unhealthy relationship. I love my brother with all my heart and I don’t know why he’s doing this but as your friend, I can’t see you like this"

She was right. You had lost at least 10 pounds from the stress and anxiety that Harry was causing you and you knew it needed to come to an end.

"I know but I don't know what to do. I love him, but I can't reach him. I'm basically losing my mind and I don't know how to stop it all" you stated.

She stayed quiet for a minute before quietly asking, "have you thought about a divorce at all?"

In truth you had a couple of times before when it was three in the morning and Becca would scream out for her daddy and you knew there was nothing you could do, but it always felt too extreme.

"Yeah it's crossed my mind a couple times...... but I could never do it I don't think. I love him so much and I can't be alone again, I really can't." You whispered as your eyes began to gloss over.

Gemma wrapped her arms around you tightly. "Shhh, it's going to be ok. Tell you what why don't you come with the kids to my house for a bit and stay there so you’re not alone. I can talk to Michal and see if his friend John can draft up some divorce papers with you... nothing to sign but just to see what it would entail. Did you guys sign a prenup at all? " she asked as you wipe your tears with the edge of your sleeves.

You shook your head, “No, I offered to sign one for him but he refused. Regardless, I don’t want his money, that’s not why I married him”

“I know love, I know. It complicates the situation a bit but nothing that can’t be dealt with later. Besides, you know Harry is going to give you at least half of his earnings if not more regardless of if you want it. He worries about you.” Gemma adds.

“I wish he would at least talk to me if he’s so worried” you mumbled as you heard cries come from the baby monitor sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll call Michal and why don’t you go get Becca” Gemma stated as you went over to wipe the chocolate off of Connor's giddy face as you made your way up the stairs. 

You slowly entered Becca’s room and greeted her with a soft ‘good morning’ as you reached her arms out to you from her crib. You smiled at your baby girl who had seemed to have woken up in a better mood than yesterday. You battle with Becca down the stairs as she attempts to take off your shirt by swatting at your boob (a sign that she’s hungry). 

"Connor says he wants to have a sleepover with me so it has been decided that you’re all staying over at my house” Gemma cheered as Connor giggled in her arms. 

“Gemma, really it’s ok. I don’t want to burden you or Michal” you replied

"Nonsense! Michal loves having these little gremlins and you around. I’ll take Connor up with me and we’ll start packing a bag for him while you feed Rebecca. We have the crib from when Michal’s godson stayed with us a couple of weeks ago so we can move that into the guestroom for you. I'll go call Michal and tell him to come help and we'll be ready in no time!" she said began to make her way upstairs.

"Ok, thanks Gem” you replied as you sat down on the couch with your fussy baby, getting ready to feed her. 

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

*6 hours later*

After changing Becca and double-checking that you had your purse, you and Gemma got into your car and made the 20-minute drive to Gemma and Michal’s house. Michal being the angel that he is had offered to bring all the bags in his car and drive them over. By the time you got to their house, all your bags were set up in the guest room and the crib Rebecca would be sleeping in was set up in the corner of the room. 

After you had all settled in, Gemma took Connor outside to play in the sprinkler while Becca took a nap upstairs. You sat in the living room with Michal as he began to explain the papers his friend had drafted for you. 

"I'm not gonna lie, this is going to be a long process that will bring out the worst in both of you. Custody will be a major part as well as splitting of assets and money."

You shook your head "I don't want any money. I didn't marry him for money so I'm not going to divorce him for any" you stated

He nodded as he began correcting the forms and continued to explain the legal process as well as the custody procedures. After almost two hours of staring at twenty pages of legal papers, you were finally starting to understanding it all (sort of). Rebecca had woken up ten minutes ago and was now sitting on your lap moving her head every time her name was mentioned. Gemma had brought Connor inside and helped him take a bath and they were watching a movie in her room as you and Michal finished up. You were going over the final details when the doorbell rang. Gemma got up from the couch and went to open it when you suddenly heard some shouting and a pair of rough footsteps heading towards the living room.

You looked up to see none other the Harry who looked both worried and furious at the same time.

"I came home expecting to see my children and wife but I come home to an empty house and a note saying you were gone" he shouted as you sat there in shock, seeing your husband for the first time in months. 

Rebecca whined softly as she became irritated from the loud boom of Harry's voice. Michal quickly stood and rested his hand on your shoulder signaling that he would take Becca upstairs so we could talk. You carefully passed Rebecca off to Michal as Connor came barreling towards Harry. 

“Dada Dada” Connor shouted as his chubby body knocked right into Harry’s legs. 

“Hi baby, I’ve missed you” he replied as he picked up Connor in his arms and showered him with kisses. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself Harry Edward Styles. If mom were here right now she’d have an absolute fit at your behavior. You’re so lucky (Y/n) won’t let me tell her because she would have flown out to whoop your ass. Come on Connor want to go watch the wiggles upstairs” Gemma stated as she grabs Connor from Harry’s arms. 

“wiggles wiggles” Connor cheered as Gemma and Michal carried your kids upstairs.

“If you so much as yell at her Harry I will murder you” Gemma yelled from the top of the stairs. 

Once they were gone you slowly got up from the couch and cleaned up all the papers scattered around the coffee table. As you began placing them in a folder Harry snatched them and began reading through them.

"Divorce papers? Are you serious? I've been gone for my job, a job I have to support you and the kids, and you want to divorce me for it?" He questioned as his anger started to bubble up.

You sighed, "that's not the reason Harry and you know it. It was just an idea Gemma had mentioned so I was looking into it. Besides, I would be divorcing you for neglecting not only me but our family for the last 5 months. Harry, I love you but this isn’t right"

"I had to work (Y/n), what part of that did you not understand?" he shouted as he dropped the papers on the floor. 

"The part where you stop calling your family for months and spend your spare time on yachts with supermodels instead of coming to see your children. I shouldn’t have to ask your manager how you’re doing, you should be telling me" you yell back

He chuckles angrily, "Is that what this is about, you think I cheated? I didn't, but if that’s what you want I'll get right on it? Would that solve your problems?" He replied sarcastically.

Your eyes began to water at the idea Harry described and you pressed your fingers to your eyes as to prevent yourself from crying in front of him. " Harry I love you but if that's how you truly feel then maybe we shouldn't have gotten married in the first place" you stated

"Maybe you're right" he stated as he turns around and stomps towards the kitchen. You let out a shaky breath as you watch him leave. This was not the way you thought your day was going to turn out. 

You began picking up the divorce papers as you hear a cry come from upstairs. Carefully you wipe the tears from your eyes and started to make your way up to go get Becca. You walked into the master bedroom to find Connor fast asleep on Michal’s lap while Gemma attempts to calm Becca down by rocking her back and forth in the corner.

When they spot you in the doorway, Michal gives you a sympathetic smile while Gemma’s frown deepens. You smile in return and pick up Becca from Gemma's arms and walk out of the room. You go to the guest room quickly to grab her favorite blanket and walked downstairs. You can hear Harry pacing in the kitchen, the pile of divorce papers missing from the floor most likely with him. You cautiously made your way to the glass door in the back of the living room and stepped outside into the slightly chilly night, bundling yourself and Becca up in the plush purple blanket Harry had bought Becca when she was born. You turned on the patio light and made your way to Gemma's garden to the small swing standing in the middle of it. 

You stay there crying as you rock Becca to sleep in your arms. A while later you heard footsteps slowly approach the garden and feel the weight of the swing shift as someone sits next to you. You don't dare look up as the smell of cologne gives away that it's Harry. He clears his throat a couple of times before speaking.

"Why wouldn't you take any of my money?" He asked quietly as he folded the divorces papers

You wiped your tears slowly and took a deep breath before responding, "because I didn't marry you for your money so why should I divorce you and get it. I married you because I love you"

"You need the support. I would give you all the money in a heartbeat you know that" he mumbled back

"I have a job and some savings, I could support myself and our kids" you stated. You heard him grunt as he flipped through the pages.

"Custody battle? Do you think it would come to that?" He asked quietly as you saw his shoulders shake.

"My babies are my everything....... I can't lose them like I already lost you" you stated as you caressed Becca's cheek.

"You didn’t lose- were you actually going to sign these?" He asked, voice cracking as you watched his hands begin to shake. 

"No" you replied back, barely louder than a whisper. 

Harry let out a breath and timidly let's go of the papers placing them on the ground before wrapping his arm around you carefully.

The minute your head hit his chest you began to cry. Harry quickly took Becca out of your arms and into his chest as you clung to him, sobbing into his shirt. He caressed his free hand up and down your back and placed chase kisses onto your forehead as he whispered sweet words and apologies to you.

You sobs slowly became sniffles as you wrapped your arms around yourself, leaving your head to lean on Harry's shoulders.

"Baby I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten this bad. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? With all the shows and starting to record the new album, I forgot about the most important thing in my life." He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.

You twiddled with your fingers, "I could never reach you. Every time I tried to call you were busy so I thought, ok he can just call me, but then your calls just got shorter and then they just stopped. I took it as you were busy but even when you had a couple days off you wouldn't come visit. You had basically broken off from us, Harry. I didn't know what to do. I spent most days with Gemma and most nights with a crying Becca keeping me up because all she wanted was her Dada singing her to sleep. I had to play your albums every night to try and get her to calm down and every time your voice played through the speaker, I died inside. It was all too much for me. I was alone Harry and you were nowhere to be found. I want my husband back. I want the man I fell in love with four years ago that use to wake up at 5 am halfway across the globe just to wish me goodnight. I want the man that cried at our wedding as I walked down the aisle. I want the man that tries to sneak chocolate chips into Connor’s pancakes while I’m not watching just to make his baby boy smile. I want my Harry back." you replied as you stared at the ground.

Harry stiffened as you finished speaking. He slowly lifted your chin up to meet your eyes. You could see tears falling down from his eyes as he looked straight at you. You could tell he was hurting and just the thought of him breakdown was making you shatter into a million pieces. You carefully got up from the swing a grabbed Becca from his arms before tucking her head into the nook of your neck as you cautiously sat down on Harry's laps. Harry let out a loud breath before he carefully wrapped his arms around your frame and staring straight into your eyes. 

"I’m right here baby, I’m still your Harry. I love you so much and just the thought of losing you and my babies hurts me more than a bullet ever could. I'm sorry I didn't call but I was so homesick that I figured it would be easier on both of us if I just kept my distance. I figured the check-ins with Jeff would be enough. I know that’s no excuse but I promise baby I’ll be better.  I love you so so much you have no idea (Y/n). I promise I'll be better for you and for our kids just please don't leave me" he said as he hugged you tighter causing a sob to escape your lips.

"I love you too H" you state in between sobs. You both sat there for a while until you had stopped crying. Cautiously Harry lifted your face to look at him.

"Can I rip up those papers when we get back?" He asked timidly as he stared at you.

You nodded furiously and quickly pulled him into a deep kiss. You pulled away breathless as you lean your forehead against his.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it that far. I should have just waited to talk with you before asking Michal about them and I..." you tried to continue but Harry stopped you with a kiss.

"Shhh we're going to get through this baby” He whispered as he caressed your hair. 

“We need to go to therapy, Harry. This was a big deal and I don’t think we can slip this under the rug and get back to where we were without it” You mumbled into his neck. 

“Of course (Y/n). I’ll go to therapy every day for the next thirty years if it means I get to keep you and my babies with me. I'm going to be better for you and for the kids. I'm going to take you all on tour with me from today on and were going to work through this. Now, why don't we head in it starting to get pretty cold." He stated as carefully helped you up while making sure Becca was wrapped up tightly in her blanket. You snuggled deeper into Harry's side and nodded your head as the two of you walked into the house once more.

Gemma and Michal sat on the couch talking quietly to each other as the tv played in the background They looked up at the two of you cautiously. Harry quickly kissed your head and grabbed Becca before taking her upstairs to bed.

You carefully grabbed one of the four full wine glasses on the coffee table and sat on the love seat next to the fire hoping to warm up a bit. Gemma starred at you as you sat there. You knew she was dying to know what happened outside, but she was too kind to ask.

"I think we're going to be ok" you state as you wrap the blanket closer to your chest. Gemma gets up and gives you a big hug.

“You’re not letting him off the hook are you?” she asked sternly.

“No, he’s not off the hook. We’re going to start therapy and we’re going to take things slow. He said he’s going to be home more and that he’s going to take us on tour with him from now on but we’ll see. One day at a time” you mumbled as you took a sip from your glass

"I'm glad it all worked out but if he hurts you again, family or not, I'll kick his ass. No one disrespects my (Y/n)" she said seriously. You laughed and simply nodded your head as you heard Harry's footsteps down the stairs.

"Thanks for watching Connor," Harry said as he shook Michal's hand and kissed the top of Gemma's head as she made her way to the spot next to her husband.

"Anytime. He is so adorable and quiet" Michal gushed.

You smiled softly and moved over slightly in your seat, making room for Harry. Harry carefully picked you up from the love seat and sat down, placing you on his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you, burying his head into your neck. 

The four of you spent the rest of the night watching tv quietly as you cuddled in the loveseat, Harry stealing sips from your wine glass as you try your hardest not to fall asleep. After a while, Gemma and Michal said their goodnights and headed up to their room as Harry carefully picked you up and carried you to the guest room. He slowly laid you on the bed and removed all of your clothes except your underwear before taking off his shirt and helping you place your arms in the sleeves. He tucked you into bed and quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants before grabbing a pillow and getting ready to spend the night on the floor. He didn’t want to overstep and end the day on the wrong note but the minute he heard you call his name he smiled. He quickly checked on Becca that was fast asleep in her crib while Connor slept peacefully in the small bed laid out next to your bed. He gave both of them a quick kiss on the cheek before carefully sliding into bed behind you.

 You curled your body into Harry's and sighed contently as he wrapped his arms around you. You heard a faint "I love you, baby, so much" from Harry as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time in months, you were able to sleep through the night and you couldn't be happier.

Wow, it’s been a long time but I hope ya’ll enjoyed this one!!

Masterlist

[raviposting]

Random siblings headcanons I have for @totallyevan‘s TUActober day 7: Team Zero, focusing on Vanya because I Want To. 

There’s a line from This is Us that I apply to the siblings even with their life and it’s “I know we had moments” and I’d like to think that there were a few moments where the siblings had like, very genuine moments with Vanya even if they were few and far between so here we go: 

Luther: The kids all snuck out to a carnival when they were little. Everyone went, even Luther, because it was the last day it was in town and they desperately wanted to go. Ben and Five dragged Vanya along, and everyone went onto The Bullet - except for Luther and Vanya, who stayed back. Luther said he wasn’t in the mood but he was honestly scared at how high up the ride seemed to go and Vanya didn’t seem much better off. They stayed there, watching their siblings talking to each other on line, and Luther turned to Vanya and asked if she wanted a funnel cake. She seemed surprised but nodded, and the two of them went around to the different vendors and ate so much. They had funnel cake, cotton candy, bits of popcorn...by the time their siblings finished the ride all of them were jittery.

Diego: The siblings would have movie nights sometimes when they were given free time. Diego hated whenever it was October, because someone would inevitably choose a horror movie and Diego would scare so easily. One time, they were all clustered on the couch, Diego in between Vanya and his mom, and Allison put on The Ring. Diego was absolutely terrified and at one particular jump scare he jumped a bit and grabbed his mom’s hand next to him. They held hands for the entire movie, and she’d squeeze his hand whenever a particularly scary scene popped up, which made Diego feel better. It wasn’t until partway through the movie that Diego remembered that his mom was on the other side of him and that Vanya was to his right. He didn’t let go. 

Allison: The first time the siblings all snuck out to go to Griddy’s Donuts was the first time they had all snuck out in general. Five had said decisively that they were all going to Griddy’s, and so Vanya had gone with them. By the time the other siblings ordered, there was only some plain donuts and one chocolate raspberry donut left in the display case that both Allison and Vanya wanted. Vanya said she’d get the plain one and she got it, but then Allison grabbed a knife and split it into two, and they each had half of each donut. Vanya didn’t point it out, but she noticed that Allison had given her the bigger half of the raspberry/chocolate donut and it made her smile for the rest of the night. 

Klaus: After Ben, Klaus stopped going on missions. Reginald couldn’t force him to and he was more of a liability in Reginald’s eyes anyway, so in between Ben’s death and Klaus getting kicked out, Klaus would be at home with Vanya. He’d usually sprawl out on her floor napping as she played, or he’d be rambling about something he wanted to do outside of the house. It was a bit weird for Vanya, having someone talk to her so much, but it was nice too. One time she was just on the couch and Klaus sauntered over and started talking to an unknown specter in the room. He was high, Vanya thought, but at one point his eyes seemed clear and he said It should have been me before passing out. Vanya wrote out a small list - of places she and Five and Ben wanted to go, before everything went to Hell for them all - and put it in Klaus’s hands. After Klaus got kicked out, she kept getting postcards in the mail - sometimes after a few weeks, sometimes months, they were erratic and there was no pattern - but each one came from a different place on her list. 

Five: Five was probably Vanya’s first confidant. He’d come into her room, ranting and raving about whatever dumb thing Luther was doing or how their father had annoyed him that day. On a particularly bad day he said that he was going to run away and figure out how he could take all the siblings with him, or at least Vanya and Ben. Vanya said that maybe they shouldn’t run away for now - they were only twelve, after all - but that maybe they could just go to the park or something. He agreed and he blinked her to the park with him (a very weird moment for Vanya, but it was also pretty fun) and they sat on the park bench switching between people watching and Five ranting. After a while he calmed down and just said, “Thank you” and they sat there in a comfortable silence for the next hour. 

Ben: Ben would listen to Vanya play her violin whenever he could. He’d sit there quietly and listen, or read his book on her bed while she practiced and whenever she finished he’d clap for her and tell her what he specifically liked about her performance. He tried picking something new each time, whether it was talking about how hard the piece was or just how he could see the emotion in her face when playing it. After he died, Vanya would play the violin and she’d always pause a bit afterwards, waiting for the soft ruffling of a book being placed on the bed and some clapping, but it never came. 

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Learning Curve: A teacher!Steve/SD!Billy AU

Part I Part II Part III or read on AO3

"Alright, what's the next thing on the list?" Billy asks, leading his daughter down the aisle. He'd promised Max he'd do the shopping last night, so he's here, doing the shopping while Becca practices her reading.

Go team.

"Ummm," She frowns hard at the piece of paper in her hand. "cah-eh-ree-all? Carial?"

"Cereal." He corrects.

She looks up at him, confused. "That's not how it looks though."

Yeah… "Sometimes words sound different than they look. We just have to memorize which ones they are."

She wrinkles her nose. "That doesn't make sense."

"I know," He agrees, "but that's just how it is."

She makes a face but reaches up to grab some Cheerios. "Can I get Berry Kix?"

He knows Leslie was a total health nut, but he's never thought a little sugar would hurt her. They'd always got up early on his Saturdays and went to the local donut shop. It was their secret.

Now there's no reason to have secrets.

"Yeah, put em in the basket." He says, giving in.

If Leslie were to be believed, she hadn't had sugar in two years. She still died.

A little sugar won't kill her.

He's lost in his thoughts, doesn't see Becca staring at someone behind him, doesn't realize they aren't alone anymore.

Until…

"Billy?" Ice rushes through his veins as a familiar voice speaks behind him. "That you, son?"

Oh fuck.

His breath leaves him, hand tightening around the yellow basket handle. He doesn't want to turn around. He just wants to drop this basket of shit, pick up his daughter, and run.

But he knows that would cause a scene, and he doesn't want to do that. Doesn't want to scare Becca. She's already had enough fear in her life, she doesn't need him freaking the fuck out. So he makes a decision and slowly turns around, forcing out a monotone, "Dad."

Neil looks the same, he thinks. Maybe a bit more gray, but he still has the same face. That face that can go from neutral and soft to angry and hard in a split second.

"I didn't know you were back in town." He's saying, sharp eyes looking Billy up and down. "How long have you been here?"

"Awhile." He answers flatly, and god, Billy is an idiot.

Everything had been going too well, running too smoothly, so he'd gotten complacent. He should have known he'd see Neil eventually. They lived in the same goddamn town, but a part of him had just hoped he'd never run into the bastard.

But Billy has never been that lucky

And his eyes don't stay on Billy long, they land on Becca and he automatically pulls her behind him. He can feel how rigid she goes under his hand, like she knows he's worried. Like she knows he's putting himself between her and danger.

"Who do you have there?" Neil asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"It's none of your fucking business who she is." He says, voice dangerous and cold, surprising them both. He had never spoken to the man with such hostility before. He'd been too weak, too afraid to stand up to him.

But Billy didn't have something precious to protect back then, now he does. And it's pulling on the back of his jacket, quietly pleading, "Daddy. I want to go home."

His chest aches at how unsure her voice sounds. He wants to take her home too, but if he doesn't deal with this right here, right now, it could turn ugly for them later.

"I know, sweetheart." He tells her, "Daddy just needs to talk to him for a minute, ok? Then we'll go."

"So, you're a father now, huh? Susan never told me that I had a granddaughter." Neil looks like he's a bit hurt by the information.

Him. Hurt. Hah.

He doesn't have the fucking right to be hurt, to be upset with Billy for cutting ties and keeping his daughter a secret from him.

He doesn't have the right.

"Yeah, that's because we didn't tell her until she left you." He hisses. "And as far as I'm concerned, she's not your granddaughter. She is nothing to you."

He can tell that his dad is pissed the fuck off at that. But he can also tell that he's not going to do shit about it. Because he doesn't know Billy anymore. Doesn't know what he's capable of. He only knows that he's not the same terrified boy that packed a bag and split the minute he graduated.

But even though he doesn't know Billy anymore, old habits die hard. He still manages an aggressive, "Nothing?" And steps to the side, trying to peer behind Billy. "We're family. You wouldn't be heartless enough to keep her away from her own grandfather would you?"

He shoves ten years worth of anger into a heated glare. "I put half a country between her and her other one, I'd gladly put a world between you and her if I could."

He frowns. "Don't you think you're being a little bit dramatic, son?"

"Dramatic?" He balls his hand into a fist, an act that doesn't go unnoticed by Neil. "Come near my kid and I'll show you just how dramatic I can be."

There's a heavy tension quickly filling up the space between them, and Billy thinks this may come to blows after all. He's gearing up for it, making a quick plan of action when he realizes Becca's hands are no longer gripping his jacket.

Panic seizes him until he hears her calling out, "Mr Harrington!" and he turns to see said man at the end of the isle, putting a box of cereal into his cart.

"Hey there, Becca. What are y-." He starts to say but is cut off when she plows right into his stomach. He barely keeps his balance as he wraps his arms around her, eyes rising to meet Billy's before asking, "Is everything ok?"

Neil scoffs behind him. "Oh, won't let her say hi to me, but you let her run off and hug strangers?"

Billy barely holds back a nasty retort. He's being willfully dense. He heard her calling Harrington's name too, so he doesn't look at him as he responds, "He's not a stranger." Hasn't been a stranger since Billy rolled into Hawkins and tripped over his own feet trying not to out himself to the pretty boy.

And fuck, Billy is happy to see him. If only because he's saving him from throwing punches in the middle of the Mini Mart.

Becca says something to him, and while he can't hear what she said from this far away, he can see Harrington's frown. Then he straightens up, takes her hand and abandons his cart, coming to a stop beside Billy.

"Everything ok over here gentlemen?" He asks, back straight and authoritative.

So unlike high school Harrington.

But now he's a teacher.

Right.

Neil opens his mouth but Billy beats him to it. "Of course. He was just leaving."

The man's stubbled jaw ticks but he backs down. Apparently not liking his odds. "We'll catch up another time, then." He says, and then...walks away, towards the front of the store.

As soon as he's out of sight Harrington's posture slackens and he lets go of Becca's hand. "Um, wasn't that your dad?"

He sighs, nerves shot to hell, and rests a hand on Becca's head. "Unfortunately."

"What'd he want? Becca said something was wrong."

Said little girl leans back against him and he sighs again, because he really doesn't want to talk to Harrington about this. Doesn't want to talk about it in front of his daughters, doesn't want them to know how pathetic he'd been in the past.

But he has to say something. "He just wanted to know why I didn't tell him I was in town, " He admits, "and why I didn't tell him about Becca."

He pushes his glasses up where they'd slid down his nose a bit. "Why didn't you?"

"I haven't spoken to the bastard since graduation, Harrington. He's got no reason to be in my business."

He nods. "Fair enough."

And Billy knows they still haven't gotten everything off the list, that he should stay and maybe thank the guy, but he's mentally exhausted now. Max can guilt trip him later. Between Neil showing up and now Harrington, he really just wants to go home, crack open a beer and watch TV with his kid.

"Well, we'll let you get back to your shopping. I think it's time we get going." He says, gently tugging on his daughter's ponytail to get her to swat at him and stop shutting down. "What do ya think?"

"Yeah." She replies enthusiastically. "I want to go home and see Uncle Lucas." Then she acknowledges her teacher, "See you tomorrow, Mr Harrington."

And even though he's been giving Billy some unreadable looks, he's all smiles when he talks to Becca.

That shouldn't make him feel so damn warm, but it fucking does. Because of course it does. The universe hates him. Wants nothing more than to watch him suffer and pine over something he can't have.

Or should he say someone.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

An Ode to Payphones

    “Mommy, what’s that?”       I looked. A child was glaring suspiciously at the payphone I’d been using moments before. He looked to be six or seven-years old, so it shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d never seen or noticed a public telephone before, but still. The question, and the palpable disgust in his voice, made me feel old.      “That’s a payphone, honey.”      “What’s it for?”      The mother cast an apprehensive look my way. We were on the platform at Spadina station and she’d seen me on the phone, plugging my ear against the shattering noise of a subway pulling in, making arrangements to meet my heroin dealer John at our usual spot at Main and Danforth. I would have to call him again when I got there, either from one of the four payphones inside Main Street station or on one of the two phones outside the church at Danforth. The phones inside Main Station must have all been routed through one line, because they either all worked, or none did.

    As for the two phones outside the church at Main and Danforth, typically one was broken, but they both worked when I went to check them for this article, a miracle perhaps attributable to the Second Coming of Christ on the roof.

     There have been long spells throughout my life as an addict during which I’ve had no mobile phone. Every spare cent went to heroin. The longest such spell was nearly a year. Several spanned three or four months. So it’s safe to say I know the payphones of Toronto as well as anybody else.      One of my old heroin dealers lived near Roncesvalles and Howard Park, where a non-Bell phone sat outside the Meridian Bank on the northeast corner, crooked and somehow wounded looking.

     There’s no trace of it now, but I know there used to be one just north, on the other side of the street where Dundas splits eastward from Roncesvalles. I used to use it all the time. Luckily, there’s another one not twenty steps east, a Bell, just outside the bus stop east of the Starbucks at Dundas and Roncesvalles. I’ve fed that phone a lot of Loonies, cursing its curious inability to recognize nickels or dimes.

     My Roncesvalles dealer was notoriously unreliable, so I often found myself having to take the College car all the way across the city to its eastern terminus at Main Station. While waiting on that corner for John I would commiserate with my fellow drug users, many of whom lacked phones themselves.      The most popular complaint I heard was how hard it was getting to find a public phone. Apparently some neighbourhoods in Toronto are payphone deserts. You can walk for twenty minutes in any direction and not find one.       So I’m going to see how many phones there are within a five minute radius of my apartment. My guess would be at least eight. Maybe ten. I’m about to get evicted, but I’ve lived in Kensington Market at Nassau and Bellevue since February 2017, which is a veritable payphone oasis. It’s too cold to go out tonight, so I’m going to take a virtual tour of my neighbourhood and take screenshots of every phone I find from Google Street View. Yes, the photos look pretty lo-fi but my whole life is lo-fi, so sue me.      Here’s a no-name one just north of Dundas on Bathurst: 

Here’s one just south of Oxford on Augusta: 

There are two Bell phones just outside Nirvana, across from Sneaky Dee’s:

There’s one outside the church one block east of Bathurst at Lippincot and College:

Here’s another no-name phone one block west of Spadina on the south side of College: 

And here’s a bank of payphones outside the internet cafe at Spadina and College:

     All three of the above phones never work at the same time, and some days you’re lucky to find one operational. (Incidentally, if someone ever reads this post a century from now, or maybe I mean a decade, or maybe I mean reads this post at all, I wonder how quaint the term “payphones outside the internet cafe” will seem.)      Here’s one more non-Bell phone, just to the west of the Scotiabank on the northwest corner of Dundas and Spadina. This phone has great personal significance for me, for a reason I can’t get into. Let’s just say I made a phone call on it during a very memorable moment in my life:

     For those of you not counting, that’s ten phones all within a five minute walk of my apartment in Kensington. There are another three are in the lobby of Toronto Western Hospital, for thirteen total. Thirteen is a lot more than I expected. Especially in 2020. And I’m sure I’m missing a few. Maybe payphones aren’t as endangered as they seem. In fact, as I was taking the photograph at the top of this post, a woman came over to me and asked, “are you using the phone?”     So they definitely still serve a purpose. They wouldn’t still be there if nobody was using them. A capitalist venture like Bell doesn’t keep phones around because the CEO is nostalgic. I’m kind of relieved at how many there still are, and how vital they still seem to be.       Still, I have mixed feelings toward payphones. They annoy me, but I also like them for reasons I can’t explain. I like invisible infrastructure. Nobody notices payphones. Ask yourself where the nearest payphone is. Do you even know? They may be forgotten or disliked, but they’re dependable, standing tall at their lonely outposts through sleet and rain, day and night, as we cuddle up with our smartphones in the warmth of our homes. We’ve left payphones out in the cold and most of us don’t even miss them.      I have a mobile phone now, but I still miss payphones. Or maybe I miss the days when they were a normal way to communicate, phone books slung around their waists, swinging on a chain. (Some time in the last decade, phone companies must have got tired of replacing the books nobody ever used and just got rid of them entirely. I guess they figured we could look up the numbers we need on...our mobile phones?)      Yes, there’s a definite note of nostalgia among people who still use payphones. We’re all bitter about the great price jump of 2007, when calls went from twenty-five cents to fifty, an increase of one-hundred percent. If you’re of my generation, old enough to remember life before the internet, then you know that payphones are sad remainders of the technology we grew up with, a visible reminder of the 90s. It’s my firm belief that everybody suffers from chronic temporal sickness for the decade they grew up in. I can imagine a day when they only exist in museums and photographs. Maybe I’ll go to watch the last phone get decommissioned. Maybe I’ll only love payphones once I can never use one again, like the Once-ler becoming an environmentalist only after hearing the “thwack” that felled the last Truffula tree in Dr. Suess’ The Lorax.      I feel this way even though payphones are often more a hassle than a convenience. I once spent half an hour outside the Eaton Centre on Queen Street waiting for a woman to finish her conversation, only to find the phone broken when she finally hung up. Her wild gesticulations should have tipped me off that she’d been screaming at a phantom, but I was too dopesick to notice.        There were and are other cons to payphone usage. It wasn’t always easy to come up with the necessary exact change. Or sometimes you’d have exact change but the phone wouldn’t recognize one of your coins. For whatever reason, payphones have a really hard time reading dimes. Many times I’ve had just enough to make one call but the phone won’t cooperate and I’ve had to throw myself at the mercy of a local convenience store owner or random bystander. Maybe “can I use your phone?” was an innocuous question back in the day, but nowadays people immediately suspect you for asking and they really, really do not want to loan you their phone. I don’t blame them. Our phones contain our entire lives. It’s not the same as handing someone a few quarters.       Despite all the long list of cons, there remains among my fellow payphone users a keen sense of loss. We’re all grieving something indefinable, something that went away with the advent of mobile phones. And I’m not leading up to a gripe about “kids these days on their phones.” As an avid reader, I usually bury my nose in a book when I’m on transit, so I don’t beseech people to “live in the moment” when they’re sitting on a bus. Being a passenger on the TTC for the thousandth time isn’t something that requires one’s undivided attention. I only get annoyed when I see some guy – and it’s always a guy – staggering down the sidewalk with his eyes glued to his phone, walking into people. Or walking into traffic. The feelings of wistfulness among payphone users grows more acute as the years roll on and more and more public telephones are yanked from their moorings, never to return. The sense of loss sometimes manifests itself in the passing down of legend.      When I first heard the story, it was that there exists somewhere in the city of Toronto a payphone that still makes calls for a quarter. I was convinced it was the one just east of University on Dundas, south side of the street, just east of the Royal Bank. It just looks so fucking furtive. Like it’s hiding from the tourist hordes at Yonge and Dundas square, tucked around that corner:

     I went to check that phone for this article but it doesn’t work at all, much less for half price.      In an apt game of telephone about telephones, the legend grew. Only a few months after I first heard the Legend of the Half-Price Payphone, the story had morphed into a unicorn payphone that makes calls for free. People were arguing over which one it could be, though admittedly nobody had ever found it. It was like the leprechaun’s pot of gold.      “It’s the one outside the mall at Kingston and Midland. The one with the Scotiabank!”      “Naw it’s the payphone at Warden Station! Next to the donut shop!”      “It’s the one at Yonge and Charles!”      “What? They took that one out before 9/11.”      “It’s the one in Yorkdale near the GO Station!”      “Seriously bro. Pre-9/11. You’re memory is fucked, bro.”      “My cousin’s in the Hell’s Angels. He can sell you a burner for $5. Why use a payphone when you can get a…”       “No one cares about your cousin, Dwight.”      “Pre-9/11 bro. Seriously. Yonge and Charles? Christ!”       And on and on and on, into the night.       I have a mobile phone now and it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever go back.       The final straw came when I had to go up to Muskoka one summer for four days to work on a cottage. I missed my partner so much by the third day that I walked up and down the length of the lake, looking for a payphone. I probably had a better chance of spotting a lion, but there was no way I was going back to that cottage without talking to my wife. I missed her too fucking much.       At the end of the lake I spotted a house with the garage door wide open. Inside the garage there was a workbench, a fridge, and all sorts of tools. On a hunch, I quietly made my way up the gravel driveway. There wasn’t a human being in sight. Inside the garage, I spotted a wall-mounted phone, and called my wife. She didn’t answer but I left her a message. As I was leaving it I heard footsteps and before I could make myself scarce an elderly lady came around the corner and stared at me. She obviously lived there.       “Um. I was just…leaving,” I said, hanging up the phone and sheepishly skipping back to the main road as fast as I could. The woman frowned after me, watching me go.       A little further down the road I saw an electrician working on a house and asked to use his phone. He said yes and I finally got through to my wife. But I couldn’t talk long or say what I wanted to say because the electrician was staring at me, so I determined right there and then to get and keep a fucking phone of my own. And that’s what I did. I sometimes pay my bill late and find myself cast backward into the land of payphones and useless dimes, but for the most part I’ve joined the 21st century.      As for that mother and her child, the mother did her best, to her credit.              “Some people…can’t afford cell phones,” she informed her son, who looked bored already. “Or else they can’t get coverage on the subway, so they use one of these. Or in emergencies, they work for emergencies.”       “What kind of person can’t afford a phone?” the child brayed incredulously.       The mother looked embarrassed. I wasn’t. Let her stupid kid hate payphones and poor people. Most people do.      I rarely use payphones now but I still get a small shiver of curiosity when I pass one I haven’t seen before, wondering if it’s the legendary free one. The unicorn. The white whale of public telephones. So I check. And I hear “please insert fifty cents” from the robotic lady voice that rules payphone land.      Then I move on.

[woildismyerster]

I know you mainly do fics off of prompts but have you ever thought about writing a fic based off of Two Broke Kids- by Ruth B. ??

I’d never heard that song before!  It’s sweet.  You know, I had never realized how much effort it take to write following a song.  I totally failed, and I’m sorry for that.  Here’s what I got instead.

You were sitting on the floor in your empty living room, book propped on your lap and hand resting against a half full mug, when a knock came at the window.  You were frowning when you walked over, but it melted into a smile when you saw who it was.

“Race!  Get in here before somebody sees you and thinks you’re breaking in.”

It wouldn’t be a surprise if people thought that.  You were in a sketchier part of the city, and while none of your neighbors had complained about thieves since you moved in, how much of a stretch could it be?  Not that you had anything to steal.

He had to shimmy awkwardly through the window, careful to hide something behind his back.  You didn’t bother trying to look; he sometimes brought you newspaper clippings that made him laugh or a donut to share.  His legs were too long, his head too high, for him to duck smoothly.  

You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss.  He tasted like cheap coffee, and you smiled.  “Long day?”

“The longest,” he sighed.  He was a delivery boy for a sandwich shop, and though he was charismatic and loved people, he was always hollowed out and weary by the end of a shift.  He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone, and you wiped it away.

“Sorry.”

He shrugged your apology off, giving you a crooked smile.  “What’re you up to, doll?”

You gestured to the setup by the electrical outlet.  “Just chillin’.  Why?  Do you have plans?”

He handed the roses to you.  “I was thinking a date night.”

You gaped at the flowers.  These were nice flowers.  Race was usually the 3 dollar carnations kind of guy.  “How did you afford those?”

“That’s a great question,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“Could you afford those?”

“I didn’t have to afford them.”

You tried to scowl at him; you didn’t want stolen flowers.  You didn’t need flowers at all, so long as Race kept coming around.  “Race, come on, you didn’t have to -”

“I wanted to,” he said.  He kissed your forehead, quick and brief.  “I can’t give you much.”

“I’ve never needed much,” you said.  He tried to protest, so you cut him off.  “What are you thinking for the date, then?”

“McDonalds and a bus,” he said.

“Right you are,” you beamed.

You and Race, broke as you were, could not afford much for dates.  You ended up going on a lot of walks, eating a lot of fast food, and sneaking onto the bus to ride around the city for hours.

“She’s a spy,” you said, nodding toward an elderly woman  on the opposite side.  You had your head resting on Race’s shoulder.

“Really?  She looks so old.”

“That’s why it works.  She fools people into complacency by pretending to be deaf, and she reports their secrets to the CIA.  Or maybe the Russians.”

“Both,” he said.  “Whoever pays more.”

“I think you’re right,” you agreed.  “Your turn.”

He pointed to a teenage boy with snakebites.  “He’s a street artist.  He’s going to spray-paint the Empire State Building with penises.”

“That seems too easy for a street artist.”

Race was dragging his finger in lazy, patternless designs in the holes in your jeans.  “Anatomically correct penises.”

You laughed.  “I like that.  I would pay to see that exhibit.”

Race’s head flopped down onto yours.  You knew that meant it was about time to go home; he would be asleep soon.

“Alright, American Ninja Warrior,” you said gently.  “I think that this is a night to use the front door, not the window.”

“The window is more fun,” he yawned.

“It is literally our apartment,” you said with a smile.  “You have a key.  You live there.  We split the rent.  You can use the door.”

“I know,” he mumbled into your hair.  “It just makes it feel more exciting to sneak in.  Like we’re doing something exciting.”

“You’re exciting enough,” you promised.

You could tell he was on the verge of sleep.  Whenever he got tired, he softened.  Sometimes it meant that he would get cuddly, other times it meant that he was more emotional.  Race would apologize for things he was too proud to acknowledge during the day, or grow nostalgic for things he had never had.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“That our apartment sucks,” he said.  He was still tracing the hole in your pants, but you grabbed his hand.

“I don’t care about that.”

“We don’t even have furniture,” he protested.  “I have to steal flowers.”

He was right; the two of you were truly scraping by.  You had a mattress on the floor, but you had opted to buy things like dishes and clothes instead of nice furniture.  “We can look at Goodwill again this weekend,” you offered.  “They have chairs for twenty dollars sometimes.”

“That’s not the point,” he said.  “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

“Who needs more?  If I had to choose between having you and having more, I would pick you every time,” you said.  It was true.  Times would be tough, but the two of you were in college.  College years were always hard.  You would get your degrees, and you cold figure things out from there.

“I would pick you too,” he promised.  You could hear the smile in his voice.  “Every time.”

“That’s good,” you said dryly.  You’re heart was racing a little, but he didn’t need to know that his words made you melt.  “You’re stuck with me.  We went in on that mattress together, and I’m not willing to share custody.”

He laughed, already fading into sleep.  You would wake him in a couple more stops.  You liked it when Race fell asleep against you like this, and you knew that he needed this.  He needed to sleep, and once he woke up, he would be ready to dream with you again.  You would dream together about bay windows and bookshelves; full savings accounts and buying flowers without giving something else up; colorful couches and strong coffee.  You didn’t have any money, but you had plenty of love and plenty of dreams.  Money paled in comparison.

[eene-fangirl]

Stand By Ed Chapter 7 [An Ed, Edd n Eddy Crossover]

Note: Here is the next chapter of @impano and I’s crossover of Stand By Ed! Enjoy!

Now it was completely dark all across the Lemon Brooke woods. Having traveled at night before the boys made camp in a safe place. It was an open grassy area surrounded by trees. If only they could sleep in the location they had last time. The city lights made them feel safe. At least the moon was out. Eddy especially felt much safer. It was still embarrassing to admit that dumb fear.

It took some time, followed with great patience, to start a campfire. After vigorously rubbing together two sticks as smoke fired out his ears, Eddy made the fire.

The humorous event reminded Eddy of a funny story he wrote.

As the Eds munched on marshmallows Eddy entertained his friends about a boy with the biggest ears. They’re length was similar to Dumbo. The boy had hearing better than any bird. One day he was in school and heard a girl whisper to a friend that she was going to ask some guy by the name of Brad out when she already had a boyfriend. But the friend already asked Brad to go out. But, Brad was asking some other girl out as they spoke! The boy with the big ears followed the commotion only to learn that the fight was occuring in another state!

Ed and Edd laughed as Eddy took a little bow. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you!”

“That was very good, Eddy,” Edd complimented.

“What happens after?” Ed asked.

Eddy’s smile faded. “What do yah mean?”

“Does the boy fly to the other state to see the drama? Ooh, that would be funny!”

Eddy uncomfortably scratched the back of his head. “Uh... I don’t know. That’s all I came up with.”

“What’s the reason why the boy has big ears?” Edd was next to ask.

Eddy shot Edd an annoyed look. Edd immediately felt guilty. He should have known better. Eddy just wrote to relieve his anxiety. Eddy enjoyed writing more then he let on Stacks and stacks of papers scattered around his room. He made up little stories about random characters, his own feelings, or even about his disco ball. Eddy had a unique mind. It was a shame he wouldn’t make it more of a hobby.

“It’s just a dumb story, guys!” Eddy huffed scarfing a half burned marshmallow down his throat.

Ed and Edd guiltily frowned. Putting another marshmallow on a stick Ed hit his against Eddy’s forming a gooey string of the dessert. Eddy laughed and playfully punched Ed’s arm.

“If only we had some buttered toast!”

“How would a marshmallow and toast go together?” Edd asked.

“Anything tastes good with buttered toast, Double D,” Ed stated matter of factly.

“Best not argue, Double D. The first thing I ever saw lumpy eat when I first met him was shrimp, two donuts, an apple, dsome steak tips, and even a turkey under two slabs of buttered toast.”

The conversation moved on to a ‘would you rather’ match, to movies, and betting which characters could beat out the other in a wrestling match. This is what the boys missing out on. Their time with no worries was quickly fading. That’s why Eddy was so anxious. There friendship would fade for sometime until they became closer. What if they actually split up in high school?

Eddy’s concern was soon forgotten when the howl of a wolf prowling some near distance alerted the boys.

“What was that?” Ed shivered grasping Edd’s arm.

“The call of a wolf, no doubt,” Edd gulped.

“A wolf?” Eddy questioned, his voice noticeably higher.

“It’s the wilderness, Eddy!”

“We never heard no wolves on the way to Bro’s!”

Before Edd could argue further another wolf howled which sounded even closer from the first one. The three boys huddled together in a tight hug. The fire didn’t light up much of the campground. Were the wolves lurking right outside the dark shadows ready to feast on their skin?

“This is not good! We won’t be able to sleep like this!” Edd deemed holding Eddy tightly. Eddy didn’t mind so much. He wondered if Edd noticed him holding him holding his hip.

“Not unless we take watch,” Ed recommended.

Both Edd and Eddy looked startled by their friends advice.

“Would you take watch, Ed?” Edd asked feeling quite humbled. Ed always looked out for them.

“Sure! Then Eddy can take watch and then you. We could keep watch by that tree.”

“You sure you’re gonna stay up, Ed?” A skeptical Eddy asked.

“Of course! I’ll just count chickens!”

Eddy grabbed something from inside his bag. “Wait Ed, take this!”

It was the gun. Terror flooded Ed’s face. He refused to take it. Edd was also giving Eddy a reproachful eye. Having learned that there were bullets inside the weapon earlier that day they had no idea how many more there were.

“Only use it if you really need to,” Eddy carefully instructed.

The crickets were chirping. Any little sound set Ed off. He tried to relax but if a stick snapped Ed picked up the gun and pointed it in every direction. Edd could hardly sleep fearing Ed may harm one of them by mistake.

As night went on Edd’s eyes grew heavy. He snuggled into his sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep.

Eddy took the next watch. He wasn’t at all tired. His mind kept him awake with irritating thoughts gradually bringing his mood down. His hand tightened around the gun in anger having to listen to his brothers voice on constant repeats like a broken record.

Noticing their fire slowly dimming Eddy left his post. He tapped at the burning sticks. What good would it do? He couldn’t even start a fire.

A moan alerted Eddy.

It was from Edd. He head tossed and turned in his sleep. He made another moan of discomfort.

Surrounding Edd were bodies. The kids were all injured. A little girl stared up at him with frightened teary eyes. That’s when Edd snapped out of it realizing what he was doing. The kids... they all looked... dead. Then there were flashing cameras in crowds of people with blurred faces asking why he injured a number of a children with dodgeballs. Someone ripped his hat off revealing the scar. People laughed. They pointed. And laughed. Edd searched for his parents. He called for them but no answer.

Then, there was his father.

The crowd of people diminished and it was eerily silent. Just Edd’s father staring coldly at his own son with no hat to cover the scar.

“Father...”

“I hate you, Eddward.”

Edd gasped away.

“You okay?” Eddy asked concerned.

Edd panted, grasping his beating heart. Tears threatened him. His whole being ached wanting a hug to relieve it all. No. Monsters don’t deserve hugs.

“Nothing.”

Eddy stared at him in pity much to Edd’s dismay. His focus returned back to the fire which steadily grew making them warmer. Without a word Eddy walked back to his lookout position miserably holding the gun. The way Eddy faced away from the campfire alerted Edd.

Years ago when they were outside of Mondo-a-Go-Go Amusement Park Edd remembered Eddy staring into the night sky for what seemed like an hour. And then the whole night turned into a deep conversation between the three friends which changed their friendship for the better.

Edd stood up and tip toed over to Eddy so he wouldn’t disturb a snoring Ed.

“Mind if I join you?” Edd whispered.

Eddy jumped, startled. “Y-Yeah, sure, sockhead.”

With some company Eddy looked a little better. Even Edd. The dream didn’t settle his worries.

“A penny for your thoughts, Eddy?” Edd asked with a nervous smile.

Eddy leaned his head against the tree. His whole body looked strained, holding back any pain. Then he shut his eyes, biting at his lip.

“I wish I could just drop out of school.” Came Eddy’s answer.

Edd’s heart ached. “Eddy, why?”

“I ain’t smart enough,” Eddy mumbled hardly looking at Edd.

Edd sighed an irritated groan. “Eddy, stop thinking that about yourself! You’ve come up with the most brilliant ideas. You always have a plan B.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

“I mean it! You always catch me when I overthink my studies.”

“So what?” Eddy huffed, waving his arms out. “If I’m smart then why don’t any of those wise ass teachers ever think so?”

Eddy growled staring at the ground hatefully. He still had the gun in his hand. Frim a short distance away Ed still snored.

“We’re going to the high school, Eddy.”

“Thanks for the reminded again!” Eddy snapped.

Eddy’s behavior confused Edd more and more. His friend was known for his angry spouts. “I meant that we have a fresh start.”

“Fresh start my ass! They all know me! As soon as I strut into that school they’re all gonna run for cover knowing I’m Terry McGee’s little brother.”

And with that Edd completely understood. “Eddy, they’re not...”

“Uh... earth to sockhead! Weren’t you payin’ attention at all these past three years?!” Eddy’s voice howled through the woods. Little did Eddy know he actually scared off a wolf. “None of them trusted me! I never got a say! No one ever took my side! They knew I was an evil destructive, cheating lowlife!”

“That’s not true.” Edd said calmly.

“Oh it is, don’t you try to defend me! No one ever asked if I made all those copies of an embarrassing school photo! Nope, they thought I wanted a gazillion copies to have as my headshot for when I was famous someday! And then I cleaned ‘em all up for two stickin’ hours without a ‘thank you.’ And then they go and give me a week’s detention for your impersonation of the principal.”

Edd’s heart swelled. “Eddy, I said...”

“I know! You told me and said you were sorry. It’s all in the past, Double D,” Eddy said to him. A tear escaped his eye. Eddy quickly brushed it away.

“Who were they gonna believe?” Eddy continued in a low voice. “All the kids who were torturing the victim or the kid brother of ‘Terrible Terrel’ McGee?”

Eddy sniffled. He bit at his knuckle forcing his sobs down. The skin broke, bleeding. Edd placed a hand on Eddy’s shoulder trying to calm him.

“Nope. They’d believe you. And a jock who gets bad grades. Three witches who hardly show up for school. And a spoiled brat! But not me! A kid who was abused by his own brother for no reason whatsoever! Did they even care?! No, they didn’t ask. They just assumed! No one trusts me! They all...” Eddy hid the tears and shook his head.

“I just wish I could go some place where nobody knows me!”

Edd pulled his best friend into a hug letting him cry into his shoulder. Eddy held Edd closely, shaking as he sobbed.

“I’m such a sap,” Eddy was trying to laugh it off but he couldn’t.

Or the remainder of he night the two boys held one another tightly. Once assured that nothing was coming after then they went back to the campground and slept. Eddy's hand stayed connected with Edd’s as they fell asleep to crickets chirping.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

This is a really dumb fic based on “The Fool” by Lee Ann Womack and honestly it blows but i’m tired of looking at it and trying to make it better goodbye

2.3k

Dean turns his collar up against the cold. There’s a sad howling in the wind and his toes are numbing from the slush soaking through his boots. His body aches for the left side of a bed that’s probably gone cold by now but he ignores it and continues toward the flickering neon sign. 

The bar is small and run down, a non-assuming haven for nursing blue-collar miseries with bottom-shelf whiskies and macro brews.

Dean spots a dark-haired woman at the bar immediately and makes his way over, pulling back the rickety stool to her right.

“Mind if I join you?”

The woman turns her head. She’s pretty; dark hair and dark eyes, a dangerous tilt to her lips as she looks him up and down. “Do I know you?”

“Not really.” He holds out a hand. “Dean Winchester.”

The woman raises her hand, sliding long manicured fingers along his palm and gives a tight squeeze. “Meg Masters.”

“I know.” One of her sharp brows arches in question, but Dean points at the stool. “May I?”

She nods and Dean eases into the seat, aware of the dark gaze watching his every move with cold suspicion. It’s more off-putting than he’d like to admit but he breathes through the nerves and gestures for the bartender.

“Two doubles for me and the lady.”

“So how is it that you know who I am but I’ve never even caught a glimpse of your handsome self?” Meg asks as their drinks are poured.

Dean’s laugh is hollow. “Gotta keep an eye on your competition right?” “Competition?” Meg echoes, eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” a gravelly voice asks.

Dean holds out a hand. “Name’s Dean Winchester. Jay sent me to help with your tire.”

They shake hands and the man’s hand is strong and soft. His blue eyes narrow a little suspiciously. “I’ve never seen you at Jay’s or anywhere in town before.”

“I’m the new guy for now,” Dean says moving around the car to check out the busted tire.

“For now?” the man echoes, following behind him.

“Yeah, I’m just passing through. Jay’s giving me some work until it’s time for me to go. You got a spare in the trunk?”

The bartender places the amber glasses in front of them and Dean reaches out for his, fingers flexing around the cold as his chest stutters to accept a breath.

“I’m the dumbass in love with the dumbass… who’s still in love with you.”

Her gaze is heavy as he tilts his head back and grimaces through the bittersweet burn of bourbon. The second it fades, he craves another, wants to drown in the bottle.

Meg still isn’t speaking and every passing second wreaks havoc on his stomach. The relief he had been expecting isn’t coming and he supposes that’s because it’s only half finished. He takes that second drink.

“You’re Cas’s boyfriend,” Meg says when he swallows.

The name does more to him than it has any right to, but it’d always had that effect.

Dean puts the tools in the drunk and lowers the door. “Okay, that donut is gonna get you around town but you need to buy a new tire as soon as you can.”

The guy grimaces and it’s almost cute. “Of course. I’ll figure it out. Thank you for your help, Dean.” He fishes for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Dean waves him off. “It’s nothing, man. Anyone can change a tire.”

“Anyone but me, it would seem.”

“Well, if you can bring this fine lady by the shop some time, I can show you.”

The man’s eyes are so wide and earnest when he looks up, it’s breathtaking. 

“You would do that?”

“Yeah, man. Everyone should know how to change a tire. It comes in handy. Obviously.” 

The man casts a withering look at the small replacement tire, then back at Dean and he a small smile forms. “I think I’ll take you up on that, then.”

“Awesome. Then I guess I’ll see you around…?”

“Castiel. Castiel Novak. But you can call me Cas.”

It’s a beautiful name and Dean wants to say it on repeat. But he allows himself just one. “All right then, Cas. See you soon.”

“Well,” Meg breathes out and clicks her tongue. “Damn. Cas sure did good for himself. Always did know how to pick ‘em.”

Dean grimaces. “Maybe not as well as you think.”

Meg sighs and picks up her drink. “Look, kid, I don’t know how you got this idea about feelings between me and Cas, but I can promise-”

“He said your name in his sleep.” The words fall from his tongue, heavy and retched. Meg turns her head toward him. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Happened last night. And a few other times.”

Dean still remembers the first time like a heart attack. Lying in the dark with his arms around Cas, warm and smelling of toothpaste and coconut shampoo. He stroked his hand up and down Cas’s waist and hid a kiss in his hair, felt a delightful fluttering in his stomach when Cas sighed in his sleep and shuffled closer, only for it to turn to a sickening lurch when a name was whispered into the silence. 

Meg.

“He doesn’t know he does it,” Dean goes on, turning the glass in his hands. It’s hard to look anywhere but at the whiskey swirling inside and he feels a painful strain on his throat with the effort to keep his tone level. “Sometimes he says he misses you. Most of the time it’s just your name. Just Meg.”

“Okay before you get some crazy idea in your head, Cas and I haven’t been together since we split.”

“I know,” Dean says. And he does. The thought had crossed his mind a few times but always passed before sprouting roots. “Cas would never do that.”

Meg nods and sips from her glass. “So why are you here?”

“So why are you here of all places?”

They’re in Jay’s garage and it’s hot and Cas is hovering just a few inches away while Dean tightens a lug nut. “I don’t know. Got tired of driving, I guess. And this place seemed okay.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“You’re just driving around the country for fun?”

Dean shrugs. “Nothing better to do.”

“When are you leaving?”

Dean lowers the torque wrench and turns around because Cas clearly isn’t interested in learning right now. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

Cas straights up, looking admonished. “Sorry. I’ve been told my social graces leave something to be desired.”

“It’s fine, man.” Dean towels the sweat from his face and neck and reaches for his water bottle. “I’ll probably head out in a month or so.”

“Oh.” Cas looks down at the paved floor for a moment, brows furrowing. “Well, I was thinking that if you have the time and would be interested in getting to know the town a little better, maybe… we could get dinner some time?”

Dean blinks a few times, his stomach lurching even as his spine tingles because this doesn’t make any sense. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes. Is that… okay?”

He’s been with people out of his league, but Cas is an entire different ballpark. “Dude, I’m a mechanic.”

Cas looks around the surroundings, taking in the elevated vehicles and the assortment of tools and spare tires lying about. “I’m aware.”

“I change oil on dirty cars all day and replace tires.”

“I’m aware what a mechanic does, Dean.”

“And you… want to take me to dinner?”

“Yes,” Cas says again and it’s so confident and sure.

Dean just shakes his head, blown away. “Do you always pick up guys you meet on the side of the highway?”

Cas’s face is bright red but he smiles and it’s lovely. “This will definitely be a first.”

Dean takes another drink of water and purses his lips. He doesn’t usually do “dates” in the towns he stops in. His encounters are limited to one-night stands and quickies in the back of a bar. But Cas is sweet and gorgeous and Dean wants to know how he holds his silverware and if he’s the type to hold the door open or pull out your chair. There’s absolutely no way anything could actually happen between the two of them, but damn if Dean doesn’t want to start something.

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m-”

“You know what, Cas? I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Cas looks pleasantly surprised, his smile soft as he meets Dean’s eyes. “Really?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, really. But — under one condition.”

“What is it?”

Dean grins. “You have to change a tire on your own.”

Dean digs his nails into the worn wood of the bar like a last ditch effort to hold on to something in this town. But he lets go and pulls out his wallet, decision made a long time ago.

“Cas is a great man who deserves everything. But the thing he wants is something I can’t give him. Trying to pretend otherwise, it’s not fair to him and-” he feels the sharp pressure building behind his eyes and bows his head, tries to blink it away but every time he does he just sees blue eyes and sleepy smiles, broad hands reaching out to him from under a blanket, kisses over coffee, and limbs tangled together under white sheets in the dark.

Meg.

And just like that, it’s all gone.

“And it’s not fair to me,” he finishes.

He drains his glass and throws a bill down on the bar and stands. Meg’s hand wraps around his wrist. “What are you going to do?” she asks.

“What are you going to do?” Cas asks between sips of his beer.

“What do you mean?”

“Like when you leave here? What are you going to do next?”

Dinner was magical. They talked for hours, Dean sharing more about himself and learning more about another person than he has in years. Cas did hold the door open and he folds his napkin in his lap and crosses his silverware over his plate to signal when he’s done. He also always holds eye contact while he’s listening to someone speak, he call the waiter “sir,” and his nose scrunches when he laughs.

After dinner, Cas showed him this little dingy bar. Nothing special, he had said, but it’s warm and cozy and the drinks are cheap. They grabbed two stools at the bar and continued talking, drifting closer and closer by the minute and Dean’s never felt more at ease in his life.

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean finally answers. “I don’t know what’s next or what I really want. What about you? Is this is it for you or do you have a plan?”

Cas shrugs. “Not a plan, really. I mean, I like it here. I have a good career and good friends.”

“But?”

Cas smiles sadly. “No one to share it with.”

And a part of Dean wants to volunteer, but he just hums and listens.

“I used to think my ex was the one who I would spend the rest of my life with. That we could be more than enough for each other.” Cas blows out a slow breath. “But I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas takes another drink and stares up at the ceiling. “It’s fine. They’re out there somewhere. It sounds silly, but I believe in a one true love. A person we are cosmically designed for, like your hearts were made from the same mold. You walk a tightrope of fate toward each other all your lives, and sometimes you might lose your balance, but you get back on and some day you’ll see another pair of feet on it on the line.” Cas turns toward Dean with a shy smile. “Does that make me sound crazy?”

Cas’s words brought butterflies to Dean’s stomach and he feels a little lightheaded listening to this idea of love. He returns the smile. “No. That’s not crazy.”

“What do you believe?”

Dean had never really thought about it before. And he doesn’t know where the words he says come from, if they’re carried by the whiskey or if it’s just another magical side effect of Cas. “I believe that we’re all on a journey, searching for the thing that makes us whole. And when we find it, we can finally stop moving.”

“Is that why you move around so much?” Cas asks.

“I think so.”

“Do you think you’ll find what you’re searching for?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you could find it here?”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes. Everything feels quiet now, and nervous, like the molecules in the air are afraid of ruining the moment.

“Yeah, Cas. I think I could.”

He had been wrong. Dean was just a stumble off Cas’s tightrope, and Cas was a pit stop of Dean’s map, no matter how much he wanted him to be the final destination.

“I’m gonna do what’s right.” Meg’s hand falls away and Dean follows the motion with his eyes before meeting hers. “You take care of him, okay?”

His walk across the bar is scored with the whines of a sad mandolin, a song so befitting it almost makes him laugh. He shoulders past the door and the cold closes around him like an old friend.

The relief doesn’t hit him once he’s in his car or even two miles outside of town. But somewhere on the highway, two states out, something shifts in his chest and he takes what feels like his first proper breath in weeks. Maybe it’s not exactly relief, but he catches an exit sign and, this time, he doesn’t calculate the hours or miles to go back.

[suckerforsoulmates]

Trish Talks

"If you don't remove your hands from her in the next 2 seconds, you will no longer have hands." The raven haired woman said threateningly to the man who she had witnessed place a hand on Trish's arm as the blonde leaned against the bar.

"Jess, you're on time!"

"Always for you." She muttered, staring at the man who was frozen in place, practically burning into him with her eyes.

She took a step closer to the man, quickly placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing until he let out a yelp and let go of Trish's arm.

"What did I tell you, dude? Never touch a lady unless she asks you to. Got it?" She said, looking down at the man, still squeezing his shoulder as he nodded quickly.

"Jess, let's go get our table. Leave the man, please." Trish said with a smirk as she stood up and watched Jessica unhand the man.

"After you." The taller woman said, still keeping her eyes on the man in front of her, following after Trish once the blonde got far enough away from her unfortunate new acquaintance.

"Thank you for not bashing his head in, babe." The blonde said, running her hand up Jessica's arm.

"Like I would ever do something like that." Jessica replied sarcastically, smiling at Trish's facial expression.

"I can name plenty of times where that exact instance has occurred or nearly occurred."

"Listen, I'm not going to sit around and let guys manhandle you without teaching them a lesson. No one needs to be putting their hands on you. Except me, of course." The private investigator huffed as she sat down at the table across from Trish.

"I get it, Jess. You know I do. I do the same for you." She responded, tilting her head when she watched a bright smile coming over Jessica's face.

"You're damn right you do. You're the most adorable angry person, it makes me equal parts proud and equal parts hot for you."

"Jessica!" Trish scolded half-heartedly, "We're in a restaurant!"

"Watch me not care."

"Welcome back to Trish Talk. I'm Trish Walker and I'm here with our special guest, Jessica Jones, a private investigator."

"We all know that's not why I'm on your show, Trish." Jessica said dryly as the blonde winked at her in response.

"You are very right. I brought you on to clear the air, if you will. We've heard a lot of rumors lately about the two of us and our relationship. Some say we're just best friends, others think we're more. I've heard rumors that we're soulmates, as well as rumors of us being related."

"Yeah, I've heard them too."

"So. Care to set the record straight then?"

"Sure thing, babe. Trish and I are actually soulmates. Lucky her." She said, throwing a wink in for good measure. "And surprise to all of the slowpokes out there-we have actually been married-that's right, married. Lucky me. For 3 years."

"Nearly 3 years." The blonde chimed in, grabbing her wife's hand from across the table.

"Fine, nearly 3 years. Our anniversary is next week, I figured I'd round up."

"Why don't you tell everyone about the rest of our family."

"Well, we've got a set of twins at home." She said dryly before waiting a beat. "I'm just kidding, we don't have any kids. That sounds like not a lot of fun at this point in time."

"Nice, Jess." Trish said with a huff.

"We do have some animals though. And by some, I mean one. I talked Trish into getting a bearded dragon. His name is Buzz and he's great. Way better than some boring cat or dog."

"Jessica has been attempting to get me to agree to a snake now." The radio host said as she watched the raven haired woman shrug her shoulders.

"I think it would be so badass to get a snake. Like a huge snake. I'm still working on her. Maybe for my birthday or something she'll finally cave. We'll need to see."

"I don't think we ever need a snake in the house, but I will buy you a pass to the zoo and you can see the snakes there."

"I mean. That's a start."

"Just think how offended Buzz would be if we had to split our time between him and a snake."

"You're laying it on a little thick there, Walker. Yeah, Buzz is a badass, but I don't really think he cares about us." Jessica said with a smirk as Trish pointed at her quickly.

"Hah! So you agree that having Buzz is not the same thing as a dog or cat."

"Well duh! He's better than a dog or cat. We can go off and do whatever we want! We don't have to be that couple that's all 'oh, we have to get home to feed the cat or let the dog out,' you know?"

"Okay, you got me there, but we will eventually be getting a dog or cat."

"I understand. We don't have to worry about that for a while though."

"Onto some questions from our callers!" Trish said as she winked at Jess and squeezed her hand.

"Hi, I was just wondering how you two realized that you were soulmates?"

"I think we both always just felt really strongly for each other and kind of knew it in our hearts. But it was really solidified before we'd started dating." Trish said quickly as Jessica nodded along.

"You know how soulmates always have each other's backs and stick up for each other at all times? To the point where it's sometimes really irrational?" The PI chipped in.

"Well this was kind of like that. I was dating this one guy, and he was kind of an ass." Jessica huffed as Trish said that. "Me and my then-boyfriend were out for drinks at this bar and he was drunk and got a little handsy."

"And I happened to show up for a drink and saw that, and I broke his arm." Jessica said slowly.

"And that is how we knew for sure. We're both irrational about each other and people touching each other. Obviously not if it's a normal interaction, but any sort of more handsy interaction is a real no-go." Trish added, trying to not make themselves seem crazy.

"Now that we've talked about violent tendencies, let's move to the next question." The raven haired woman said.

"Hi Trish and Jessica! My name is Tanya. I was just wondering what the craziest thing you've done for each other?"

"Like crazy crazy or crazy romantic?" Jessica asked before Trish could speak.

"Both, I guess!"

"Sure thing, Tanya. Well my little spitfire Trish got really mad one time when we were out at dinner."

"Jess!" Trish whined as Jess just shrugged at her.

"Oh please, it wasn't that bad. This woman came to the table to talk to Trish and ended up flirting with me instead. It was hilarious. My sweet little Trish went on a rampage. It was adorable and if I didn't know her so well, it would've been terrifying."

"I think we just hit the crazy Jess story. So the romantic Jess story-which I'm surprised she's letting me tell on live radio because she's got a huge badass reputation-is the time after we'd been married for about a year and I went on a book tour. We hadn't seen each other in about 5 weeks and it was really hard. Until at my next book event, she stood up and asked a question. She'd flown across the US to see me, it was the best surprise I could've asked for."

"Alright, next question." Jessica said, wanting to skip telling the story about Trish being romantic as she didn't like to admit to it on air.

"What is your make it or break it moment in a relationship?"

"Listen. If you don't like pizza or donuts, we can't be together."

"Why is that your answer?" Trish asked through her chuckles.

"Because if you don't like pizza or donuts, you don't know how to appreciate the good things in life. And I don't need that negativity in my life, I'm already a pessimist."

"That's pretty good reasoning, actually."

"Don't sound so surprised, Walker. My lady here puts up with our mandated weekly pizza and donuts night."

"I love our weekly pizza date. We watch movies or TV and just lay around, eating everything. It's perfect for us."

"Not that I would ever let you admit to that on live air." Jessica said, trying to regain some badass credibility.

"Of course not, babe."

[irregulardiaryposts]

00:53 21/06/2021

Hello again <3

so i think im gonna write about my mental health today because i dont feel like i have anyone who understands fully apart from myself maybe so i need to Organise my Thoughts. as a kid i had a pretty normal childhood, a mum a dad and a brother - pretty nuclear right. but as a child i felt like my family maybe wasnt quite right, that this wasnt supposed to be what family is? perhaps. - i was scared of my mum a lot because she wasnt very understanding of me - and i was a great kid, never getting into trouble, very good at school, no issues whatsover. the thing that really shows how i thought of my relationship with my mum was when i was like maybe 8 or so having a parents night and at it my teacher had nothing bad to say apart from i was kinda bossy in group settings (im sure i dont need to explain how misogynistic that actually is- i was not bossy i was a natural leader) and when i got home my mum told me off for that and i felt like she was kinda cold to me and not taking all the good things about me into consideration when telling me off for that.

i feel like thats a really defining moment in my life when i realised i cant expect adults to Understand me, realised how people treat young girls, also started my defiant behaviour maybe or was kinda one of the key moments that made me dislike certain authorities in my life, that if people wont understand me regardless of how i explain myself then i wont bother trying to be understood by people who wont matter to me. anyway yes i was scared of my mum-like petrified sometimes- but my dad wasnt great either, he also had his shortcomings. i feel like he never really cared about me like he was kinda apathetic towards raising me like a parent - i feel he would be better suited as an uncle to someone rather than a dad - the funny childish guy that makes kids laugh -not the uncaring dad that cant be bothered to really learn about his kids. and i feel im sitting here complaining about my parents when the fact is that a lot of adults should never be parents, society has conditioned people into thinking the only way to be fulfilled in life is to live vicariously through your kids when life gets to such a boring and monotonous place where you feel the need to create a new life to spice things up lmao. i feel a lot of parents regret having kids but they cannot express that regret because it was their choice and they should deal with that, also saying you regret it would be pretty horrible to the kid.

so while yes i am complaing about my parents i dont think they were Bad in any way just not that great yaknow. also i just notice all these things growing up and i feel its been pretty impactful to understanding myself and my parents. also just some anecdotes from my childhood - i used to watch my dad play video games like the uncharted games i think theyre called, and whenever i got scared i used to hide behind the couch until the scary part was over (usually a lot of guns and high energy fight scenes thats too much adrenaline for a 7 yo) and sometimes when i would take out my dad/brothers game i would get them to fo the hard parts and do other stuff myself - i dont remember many games i played apart from one of the spidermen games where u could just web around the city and not progress apart from sometimes you would come across some strippers and i accidently got into a fight with them (also hot women with umbrellas they use to fight- maybe i went near them on purpose) i would yell to my dad and get him to do it for me. also on new years eve whenever my mum was working and we werent going to any family parties we would make a bunch of food and put it out in the kitchen - wed make like homemade onion rings, chips, have crisps and dips, and a bunch of junk basically and watch like austin powers or some shit and genuinely miss those times they were so simple. but a lot of thats tainted now from what happened. also my brothers always been annoying as shit but when we were kids we couldnt be in the same room without arguing which like whatever thats how kids are esp brothers and sisters for some reason.

i think thats majority of the background needed for the rest. wait this is a little addition but i meant to mention this here so ill put it in- basically sometimes on holidays i would geniunely think my parents hate each other/ were getting a divorce like once when we were in florida in 2012 my dad convinced my mum (as well as me and my brother convinced her since we liked them) we convinced her to go on a water slide thing that u had to walk up the stairs for, it was outdoors, and it was kinda tall and then we got in one of the big donut things and it swooshed from side to side a lot and was generally pretty scary i suppose for someone who doesnt like rides esp since you had to hold on to the handles there were no buckles or anything, and so when we got off the ride my mum was big mad at my dad and like wouldnt talk to him and stuff like that which was pretty uncomfortable to have to be the 8 year old mediator of that but there was also another occasion i think (maybe also at florida) where they were made at each other and i asked my mum if they were getting divorced and all she said was 'ask ur dad' like???? no sort of consolation to this child who thinks their parents hate each other nooo just petty 'ask him' and theres also been other times when they fight/ are mad and they dont feel the need to hide it from us so i felt quite anxious around my parents sometimes.

so ahnyway . yes. when i had just turned 13 my parents split up and it fucked me up in a multitude of ways. also i cant beleive i stopped being a proper kid at 13, like as soon as i turned a teenager life hit me like a fucking truck. so the context as to why they split is still kinda lost to me ngl but they didnt tell me much anyway since i was young but my mum basically said my dad didnt love her anymore and he wanted to separate. its kinda funny because leading up to this my dad had been sleeping in the living room for like a few weeks and there was on and off fighting i could hear and i basically thought they were fighting over me and that i was in trouble and it kinda used to keep me up coz i could hear loud voices when they thought i was asleep- which is probably the cause of why i get veryyyy mad and angry when i hear my mum at like 1 am downstairs when shes drinking and im trying to sleep, probably something ive internalised (is that the word?) and made me respond so strongly to those type of noises.

anywayyyyy yes i thought i was in trouble when they were actually just getting a divorce so ... yeah you can really tell i was young and didnt understand adult issues or really couldnt figure this out myself from all the arguing and him sleeping downstairs lmao. anyway my dad moved out and it was just me my mum and my brother now and at this point my brother wouldve been about to turn 18, so although still kinda shit, not really as affected my it as a 13 yo, just to keep in mind. so i was devastated obviously and my whole world was kinda shattered but i had to hold it together a bit, also i was sometimes my mothers own therapist having to say things like 'everything happens for a reason' 'itll get better' in response to her deteriorating mental health and her questions that would be really hard for me to answer like 'why did he leave' etc (bish im a child be there for me not wallow in ur own pity, u have ur whole life to sort this out youre an adult, im a 13 you and only months away from wanting to kms hun think of ur CHILD please) anyway this left me feeling like a burden if i were to share my mental state because when my mum shared her stuff she was burdening me (AGAIN i was 13 she is an adult) so that made me bottle a lot of things up also the fact that i had no one to share it with because she works as a nurse and now shes a single mother and so she works almost all hours of most days and i dont see her much, my brother was either working at this time or just didnt give enough of a shit about me to make sure i ate.

i went from being catered to for every meal because i didnt know how to cook to suddenly no one being there for me so i had to learn how to do it myself. needless to say that lead to a bunch of unhealthy eating habbits like eating the same things every day - frozen pizza, cheese toasties, i cant think of anything else probs because i didnt make anything else just ate chocolates or didnt eat breakfast coz i woke up at 2pm. just general unhealthyness both in substance and like how healthy that was for my head yk. also this is during the summer btw so it gave me the option to be incredibly depressed - im not saying that as an edgy teen thing to say im being 100% genuine i was very depressed like textbook style - not eating or overeating, not showering/ taking care of myself, extreme lack of energy and hated doing social things coz i had to put on a farce that i was okay meanwhile i couldnt wait to get into my bed and sleep the next day and a half away.

i very vividly remember at the start of the summer holiday my friend asked me if i wanted to go out and do something and i rememeber just crying at that because i had no reason to say no but i just didnt want to and felt like i couldnt do anything and so i lied and said i wasnt feeling well and then put my phone down and curled up in my bed and cried coz i was frustrated and upset and i couldnt really understand what was wrong with me and why i was Like This.

god i didnt take into account how tired i was and how late it is when i started this huh, this isnt even half of it, but i have obligations in the mornign, the last until uni or whatever so ill put this in my drafts and finsih it somethime. alrigtht it is 02:08 btw z_z. also ive just now decided im gonna re organise my tumblr so if this ends up being an actual blog thing i can navigate it easier by adding tags and such. anywau goodnight.

20:21 30/06/2021

MOTHERFOIUHIFIUDVMKCVKM V

MY LAPTOP SHUT DOWE IN THE MIDDLE OF THSAT SO ITS ALL GONE BASICALLY I WAS DEPRESSED BURTNOUT GIFTERD KID AND IT SUCKED YADDa YADDSZ ANYTWAY

so

23:01- well. yes earlier i wrote a little about the ages 13-16 and how they sucked but whatever it got deleted the more pertinent stuff happened in the last year or so anyway.

um yeah so i started the last year of highschool as a 16 year old with a fucked up brain and never having learned any study techniques or work ethic in the slightest. i took 3 uni-level courses only one i actually wanted to do, most people take 2 at most or even 1/0 but do other classes. honestly it fucking sucked this year for school but i scraped all passes so thank god for that. so i started the year quite optimistic, or as much as i could be and in all fairness the content of this year wasnt actually that bad considering i was doing 3 hard classes but corona really truly fucked everything up and by November i had mentally dropped out of my classes but of course i still had to go to them. i feel like im an oddly independent teen because ive never had a solid parental presence in a while, like i had to do a lot for myself and maybe i should thank myself for getting me through it all because i really did pull through.

my thoughts keep drifting from what im writing coz i wanna talk about different things and im just thinking maybe i shouldve just posted the last one then added a reblog when i could be bothered to write and not force myself because if theres ever a reoccurring theme in my life is that if i force myself to do anything i will hate it with my entire being, so maybe i should just do a short synopsis and write about something else afterwards.

so i took 3 hard classes, slowly lost all motivation because in jan it switches to online classes and i could Not deal with those it was horrible, and i became more of a "troublesome student" in one of my classes *cough* maths *cough* and almost got "kicked out" of taking the class just because the teacher was a control freak but like wanted to control all of our actions and behaviour, also i think i may have adhd and another kid in my class i think he does too and surprise surprise the teacher "dislikes" him too but its only a farce because he doesnt actually dislike him its only so that i cant call him out for singling me out when other students behave "badly" too. but anyways maybe ill come back to this in a while when i can be arsed explaining my complicated relationship with my parents.

the only reason i wanted to write this today was so that i could tag the post with like june 2021 or something and not june/july, but i might make another post later, Anyway happy end of pride month i supose, hope u figure it out me!

[justsoyoudonthaveto]

Would you believe that a) it’s Halloween and I’m writing about a Christmas movie; b) we’re just 2 months away from this entire shitty year and c) this is my 100th blog post?!?!?  I can’t believe it and I’m living that right now! 

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I’ve taken a huge break from doing these this year. And with this year, I’m sure you all understand. For a long time I didn’t want to watch sunny shows where the hero just wants to be happy and explore his need to be a mime in Paris while simultaneously running away from his family’s law practice, where the heroine just needs him to buckle down and be serious. Running away from a well-paying job? Are you freaking insane? And love might be all you need, but it sure is helpful if you don’t have to worry about medical bills. This year has been exhausting, and I just couldn’t. As much as these movies are comfort food, I needed something different, which explains why I watched Great British Baking Show twice, learned how to make a killer lemon drizzle and amazing bread, and stress-read Twitter about the state of the country. All of which means that this weekend, which saw me take time off to self-care and watch BBC’s North and South for the first time and immediately plan for a re-watch, has me back to Christmas Movies, with this gem of a movie that should have everything. So let’s get going for One Royal Holiday.

I will start by saying I love Laura Osnes. I voted for her when she was on the Grease reality show, and saw her in Bandstand 3 times. I am less of a fan of Aaron Tveit, more so because of the horrendous man perm he had to sport during Les Miserables. However, it’s not nearly as bad as the man bun I just saw on the latest concert version of my favorite musical, so I guess I should move on from the perms. Except how the hell did those perms mean an Academy Award for best hair and makeup? WTF? Anyway.

Aaron plays His Royal Highness Prince James of Galwick. Is that near Lichtenstein, or Cornwall, like that one where the heroine was from New Jersey? His mom is played by the amazing Victoria Clark and she better sing, damn it. And in the very first scene, where Queen Gabriella and Prince James are in some kind of hospital benefit thanking them for the care they gave their late husband and father, Queen Gabriella is wearing a tiara. I’m sure we’ve learned something from the countless viewings of Downton Abbey (as well as anything the Queen does) and one does not wear a tiara to a benefit during the freaking day. British accents are on point though. Good for them.

Laura Osnes is a nurse named Anna, who is heading home for Christmas, and her home is some tiny New England town where her dad owns an inn. Looks like her mom is dead. Present wrapping montage, and we’re not even 10 minutes in. And Anna is off home where there’s a wicked nor’easter heading her way (she’s in Boston).

James has to make a Christmas Eve speech, which apparently the entire monarchy of Galwick is depending on. But not before he and his mom stop at Donny’s Donuts for tea. Anna’s there for coffee and is freaking out over a “Christmas Cruller” which is basically an eclair. But horrors, the storm has grounded the royal plane, and the hotel in Boston is full up, and James and Anna have had a meet cute over the eclair, and we’ve found out that Galwick is in Northern Europe. Anna is offering her dad’s inn, and now her own car when the royal car driver says he’s not going to drive to Connecticut. Queen Gabriella is already in love with Anna, and her free eclairs, and they are all carpooling to Connecticut on roads that are remarkably traffic free. Oh, and BTW, James has not told her he’s a prince, and she’s just said her town has a Christmas Eve Pajama Ball and Oh My GOD I think I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Christmas Movie Cliches and I love every minute. BTW, James is a huge pill.

Royal retainer has just let the cat out of the bag to Anna’s dad and now Anna knows that they’re royalty. But because James is such a cool guy, he’s going to carry up their bags up the stairs but because he’s also royal, he doesn’t know that suitcases have handles. Anna’s BFF from high school is now the Sassy Mayor. And James has just asked for the “pillow menu” where the guests get to choose which kind of pillow to sleep on. Sassy Mayor is all about getting the royals on social media for the town, but then she gets an eyeful of Christopher, the royal retainer, and Sassy Mayor is all heart-eye emojis. And here is the first commercial break.

What is this vest and why is it weird?

Sing-a-long at the Inn, and the carolers are dressed like Dickens characters – because carolers are only allowed to dressed like Dickens characters. Gabriella and Anna are bonding over the buffet, while James is on the phone with the Prime Minister of Galwick who is clearly not a monarchist. But Gabriella loves the food at the Inn, and methinks Queenie is going to play matchmaker between Innkeeper Dad and the Cook. James missed dinner and is eating his feelings through a 5 lb container of popcorn, but Anna is nice and brings him a plate of lobster mac and cheese.

As expected, there’s been a huge snowstorm, which is not in evidence with the b-roll of shots of the house. They are snowbound and Anna wants to know what royalty does all day. James says it’s not like a Jane Austen novel where they drink tea and read poetry. No, not at all. Sometimes they have elaborate picnics. And that is a line from this beautiful movie. Another b-roll shot of the Inn, which shows the road completely plowed. But the airport is still closed, so now they can attend the Kentsbury Christmas Parade. James can’t measure up to his dead father with his make-or-break Christmas Eve Speech. FYI, James started dragging the sled of donated toys, and next shot, Anna is dragging it. So much for the chivalry of princes.

FYI – in 2 days, we won’t see any political ads on TV for almost 12 months. Huzzah!

Everyone in the little town seems to think that Anna is dating James because they are walking down the street together. James stepped in a slush puddle and now they both have to take a carriage ride back to the inn. Just go with it. Heart to heart about James’ speech worries. Anna says he should be himself. Oh, how great that advice is.

Husband just asked how great this movie is. I said the words Christmas Eve Pajama Ball. He is seriously thrilled.

The room where the Ball is going to be held had a roof malfunction, and now where are they going to have it? James suggests the Inn, so of course they’re going to do it – and before we can say Hot Chocolate – they are going to decorate the Inn’s family tree! Singing! Tree Trimming! Lights! Husband just is annoyed that all the lights in the big tangle of string lights work, because that is not reality.

DANG IT – they are going to split the ball into Pajama for Kids and Formal Ball for Adults. This is not what I signed up for.

Anna and James meet in the kitchen in their plaid jammies, and Anna name checked Captain Von Trapp, so cool, except for the fact that Christopher Plummer NEVER showed up in a bathrobe. Anna has also introduced James to the magic of a Lazyboy recliner couch. And James is now giving Anna advice about how great a formal ball would be and it’s not a slap in the face of the memory of Anna’s dead mom. Anna is also wearing way too much makeup for late night cocoa rendezvous.

Plot question – why is James a Prince, and not King? Shouldn’t he have been coronated by now?

Anna brought James up to the attic to look for ball decorations, and he seems to have a flair for decorating. They head in to town for more garland, and James borrowed skinny jeans and boots from Christopher, and that’s not weird at all. And Anna has major good ideas for James’ speech, so good for her. Shopping Montage! Decorating Montage! So Many Lights! So Many Trees! Romantic moments by a ladder! Dancing! They are going to Dance to The Christmas Waltz. WHAT IS THIS SONG? Dance Lessons Await! (FYI, I do this with younger son in our kitchen, and it is a delight of my life). Oh, man, dad just messed up that romantic dance.

Dad is Fairy Godfather here and found dresses for Anna to wear that were her mom’s. But first, Gingerbread House Building! James is good at it and he made a castle. And Gabriella just made them a Galwickian Yule Cake (which is an eclair). Christmas Eve is in 3 days, and now there’s black ice on the roads and it’s just too dangerous to go to the airport.

Sassy Friend tells her that she can work it out with Christopher, so Anna can work it out with James, but Anna is being realistic because he’s a prince and she’s a nurse, and if he’s half as eligible as Prince Harry, then she is in the right, and Sassy Mayor is living in La La Land. But whatever, Anna deserves to find Love.

Town Candlelight Sing A Long. Lots of longing looks over the candles, but Anna can’t express her love for James because they have to sing Joy to the World (without the religious 3rd verse). But they are now back in the ballroom for Anna to tell him how she feels, but she is blocked by his phone and the fact that it’s the palace, telling him that he was photographed with Anna in the town square and it’s an international scandal of Christmas Carol proportions. And because Anna is selfless, she says thanks to James and tells him he should care for his people and go be a prince. And because he’s emotionally repressed, he says ok and he heads out.

Sassy Mayor gets to go to Galwick for New Year’s because Christopher is NOT emotionally repressed. Gabriella left a gown for the cook to wear to the ball, and James has arrived home to the literally smallest castle ever. It’s smaller than Disneyland.

SAD TIMES! James and Anna both. 14 minutes left. Anna doesn’t know what to wear, but Dianne the cook looks great in the Queen’s dress. And James has figured out that Anna helped out his dad at the hospital when he was ill. Oh my goodness all the coincidences! Anna’s dress has pockets, y’all. James’ Christmas speech is on the internet, and his military uniform clearly doesn’t fit. And HUZZAH James shows up at the ball and his tuxedo suit does fit. And more about James’ dad, yada yada yada. And they kiss and head into the ballroom where they get to finish their Christmas Waltz. All Laura Osnes’ Cinderella dance experience is clearly paying off here. But we’re not done yet – everyone is in their pajamas at the fireplace for the final scene – and again Cinderella vibes, because James brought her Christmas Royal Bedroom Slippers. But he didn’t bring enough for everyone! The End.

This movie had everything and it was delightful, even if Victoria Clark didn’t sing. Sorry for the blurry pictures – WordPress changed their way of doing things while I was baking and I am still trying to figure it out. Glad to get back into this even if we’re still technically in Halloween territory. Aren’t you glad I watched, just so you don’t have to?

#100 – One Royal Holiday Would you believe that a) it's Halloween and I'm writing about a Christmas movie; b) we're just 2 months away from this entire shitty year and c) this is my 100th blog post?!?!? 

[spdersilk]

Lemon [lin x reader]

Warning(s): Cursing, champagne, kissing, kinda fluffy (nothing too bad hehe)

Summary: You and Lin were great friends back in high school. You recall all the memories the two of you shared, yearning for a chance to go back and change things. But little did you know the chance was bound to come ;)

Note: I had a fun time writing this :) I got a tinsy bit inspiration from In The Heights. Requests are open!

The smell of freshly baked goods and beverages flooded your senses, as you entered the local café that was near your block. You had come here every day precisely at 5 p.m to grab your slice of cheesecake and a cup of lavender chamiolle tea to relax. You looked outside your booth. The sky was a beautiful shade of lavender with a splash of tangerine across the horizon. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk further into the plush velvet chair.

“as his hit musical Hamilton continues to amaze individuals of various ages, Lin-Manuel Miranda-” Your eyes snapped to the small television. Images of an energetic man flashed across the screen. You smiled for a moment. Lin-Manuel Miranda. You were the least bit surprised to see his name all over New York. Smash hit sensation. An absolute genius. Possibly a reincarnation of Alexander Hamilton. You had heard it all. You closed your eyes for a moment. Lin and you had history.The both of you had been close friends in high school.  He was a senior and you were a junior.

“Y/N, do me a favor and grab the extra sheet music from the storage room. We’re gonna need two more cellos” Your conductor said. You nodded, walking over to the storage room. ‘We have enough cellos, why would we need more?’ You thought. At the corner of your eye, you saw a boy running quickly towards the storage room. Someone had called his name and he had turned around, seconds away from slamming into the wall. Your breath hitched as you lunged for his arm, pulling him roughly into you. “Woahwoahwoahwoah” The boy said hurriedly, grabbing on to your shoulders for balance. His eyes flickered to your face for a quick moment. “Are you okay?” You asked. Lin-Manuel Miranda. He was a senior. If you did anything as close to laying a finger on him, he would either shrug it off or make you the school’s new laughing stock. You had your bets on the latter. He swiftly let go of you and ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm fine. You look a little winded there yourself.” He smirks, carefully examining his surroundings before looking back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows. Did he forget that you were the one who just saved him from a bloody nose? “Uh-” You started but he cut you off. “Babe, if you wanted my number you could’ve just asked. No need to get all touchy.” He said rather loudly. A couple of guys his age barked in laughter. You grimaced and side stepped him, deciding to not dig yourself a deeper grave. Lin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion for a moment, watching you pick up some sheet music. Usually the girls he flirted with would either blush or giggle. Not side step him and forget about his existence. For a moment, he flushed. He was sounding like the rest of them. Lin let out a breath. Only five more months till he can leave this hell and become himself again.

Lin wasn't always a jackass. In fact, he never was to you. It took you awhile to figure out his “dual personality” but when you understood, you were amused. Putting up a front just to fit in sounded like too much of a hassle. You took a bite of your cheesecake and let the tart lemon flavor fill your senses. Lin always seemed to remember your likes (and dislikes). Even before the two of you were friends.

“I don't understand why a dumb club requires meetings in the mornings. Do they understand that kids don't sleep till 3 a.m because of homework?” You grumbled to yourself, as you shut your locker. “No they don't. They don't call high school a “hell hole” for no reason. You turned around quickly, clutching your chest.  “Didn’t mean to scare you. I brought donuts to compensate for my unacceptable behavior yesterday. Being a dick really does take up 2/3s’ of your personality. Minus the actual-” “Okay I think its a little too early for those kind of  jokes.“ You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry. Uh. No I mean sorry for the dick joke. It wasn't exactly a joke. Fuck, also sorry for being a dick yesterday at rehearsal.” He looked flustered for a moment before sticking out a brown paper bag. “Donuts? I heard you liked tart sweets. Well, lemon tarts. I mean, lemon flavored things” You eyed him, only making him more anxious. “Do you stalk me or something?” “No no! Crap you probably don’t even know me. I’m Lin-Manurel Miranda. Friends call me Lin. You can call me anytime. Oops sorry, there we go again. You call me Lin for real. Well not for real but if you-” “Jesus you talk way too much. I know who you are. You’ve been in every musical we’ve had so far. I was just giving you a hard time” You said, sheepishly taking the bag. Lin let out of an embarrassed laugh. “But seriously? Lemon frosted donuts? What is with you and lemons?” “What’s it with you and stalking?” “Its called being observant” “I don’t think observant people buy other people whom they have never talked to their favorite donuts to compensate for their insolent behavior”

He smiled at you and it nearly caught you off guard. It was almost as if you had forgotten how charming and alluring he looked when he smiled. “Touche” He mused. You looked away quickly, nibbling at the donut  “Am I forgiven?” He asked after a beat .You chewed thoughtfully. “Do you always try to bargain apologies with food ?” You asked, brushing your hands on your jeans. He ducked his head sheepishly. You had him pinned to a t. “No, but I don't really know how to make it up to you other than buying lemon donuts.” He grumbled. “Speaking of which, how do you even know I like lemon donuts?” You asked. “Cast parties.” He said. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment but nodded your head. Awkwardness began to fill the air. “Okay I really don't think buying you donuts erases away my behavior from yesterday.” He said. “That would be a correct statement.” You retorted, rocking back on your heels. “Let me make it up to you? There’s this really cool café that's opened up. They have stellar cheesecakes. Some of them lemon. Meet me there at 5 and I’ll prove it to ya.” He pleaded. You looked at him. His eyes had a strange glint and you could see how nervous you made him. It almost flattered you. “Are you tryna give me diabetes or something?” You asked, shutting your locker and grabbing your books. “They say sugar is the key to the heart” “Whoever said that was probably a diabetic” He let out a laugh, and you grinned. “So its a deal?” He asked, his eyes hopeful. You were taken aback for the second time. He was being genuine. You blinked, and looked at your sneakers and back at him. He had the same look. You shrugged in response. He chuckled happily. “i’ll see you then!” He called, trotting towards his locker.

And that was how your friendship bloomed. You looked longingly at your half eaten cheesecake. This café brought back so many memories, it almost hurt. The two of you would always spend your afternoons here. Splitting money to pay for the cheesecakes, paninis, pina coladas. He even seemed to acquire a taste for lemon flavored cheesecake. Sometimes, he would invite you over to his house and his mom and dad would cook dinner while listening to music. He would teach you how to dance but most of the time it ended up with you stamping on his feet and clutching onto his chest so you wouldn't fall. He would laugh so hard, there were tears in his eyes.

You glanced back at the t.v. Lin wasn't on it anymore. It was broadcasting the local news. You closed your eyes again. You remembered a particular night. It was one of your favorites. The night before everything blew apart.

“Lin, your parents aren't home. I'm pretty sure they would be pissed to see-” “Relax! They love you almost more than me. And to be honest, its kinda scary. Plus, they are on vacation for the weekend. We’ve got the place to ourselves” He said, opening the door and holding it for you. You hid your blush, turning away from him. Feelings were one thing you were able to control all your life, as ridiculous as it sounds. But Lin confused you. He steered you off the tracks by saying small things that meant more to you then you would care to admit. He would look at you sometimes, softly with a small grin on his lips. You would look away of course, trying to hide your blush. He grabbed a bottle that looked like champagne. Your eyes widened. “I graduate next week, I thought we would celebrate.” He said happily, a glint of sadness in his eyes. Your heart dipped. He would be gone. In a week. No more dancing. No more café “dates”. No more Lin. You gulped and matched his feign happiness. “We don’t have any cups.” He grinned, opening the bottle. You giggled, watching the champagne spill everywhere. Lin took a gulp from the bottle, a little longer than you would have expected. He let out a breathy chuckle, handing it to you. You laughed as he got up and starting jumping around. You took a generous sip, and joined him. The two of you spent the rest of the night sharing the bottle and talking about anything and everything.

“Do you wanna dance?” He asked after a moment. You laughed. “No way! I’m going to walk all over you again.” But he wasn't listening. He put in one of his parents old cassettes, and the house was flooded with slow music. “You didn't teach me this kind of dance.” You said quietly, as he walked over to you. He didn't answer, taking your hand softly. His hand pressed against the small of your back. Timidly, you placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping your gaze down. “ Y/N, look at me” He beckoned softly. You kept your eyes fixed on the collar of his shirt before slowly raising your eyes to meet his. And yet again you were thrown off guard. The look on his face made your breath hitch in your throat. His eyes were glassy from the champagne but sober. They were soft, overcome with emotion. You swallowed hard. His cheeks were pink and you could see the peach fuzz on his chin that he so desperately has been trying to grow. Your eyes settled on his soft pale pink lips. You let out a small hiccup and he smiled softly, twirling you around. “Has anyone told you that you have the softest prettiest smile when your guard is down?” He asked. You kept quiet, your eyes flickering down. “How come your always on an edge, Y/N?” He asked again. You didn't say anything, letting him twirl you. He pulled you closer to his chest. “I-” You choked. Feelings were flooding in your head. Your heart was pounding. He was holding you closely, his eyes intent. It was so new. He cared for you. Cared. You swallowed. “I don't know” You whispered. You could feel everything. His calloused hands that were folded within yours. His soft and staggered breathing that flushed against your cheeks. You could feel the blood rush to your ears. “Y/N-’” You blushed furiously. The way he said your name. Like it bounced off his tongue. Like music to your ears. His voice was a symphony. You wanted to hear it over and over and over again. You hummed, gaining the courage to look up at him. “Can I-” He swallowed. He was choking too. You shut your eyes tight, nodding. You were too scared. This was beyond your control, and yet you wanted it so badly. He waited for a second before softly pressing his lips against yours. You let out an involuntary sigh that spoke waves. You’ve been waiting for this. He smiled against your lips, almost as if he was responding. ‘me too’. His lips were soft and molded against yours with precision. They tasted sweet, like the champagne. You pulled away for a moment. He leaned in, yearning for more. Your lips were intoxicating. You studied him for a moment, smiling widely. He blushed, and you kissed him fiercely, trying to convey that what he felt was reciprocated all this time. You were just too scared. Too scared.

And that was where you ended it. Ever since that night, you had cut off all ties. Lin tried desperately to contact you. He had even messaged your parents, but you were stubborn. The thought of him leaving you was terrifying. But the thought of him leaving you with your heart in his hands was absolutely petrifying. So you did what you thought best. You “saved yourself” from the heartbreak by simply cutting everything off.

You leaned against the window, the familiar sense of regret taking over. That is until you heard the door chime. A man stepped inside, removing his hoodie and your breath caught in your throat. He walked towards you, a warm smile on his soft pale pink lips. “Y/N.” He greeted. “Lin? What are you doing here?” You said, quickly getting up. I’ve been looking for you. He thought. He sat down instead.

“I think you owe me a slice of some lemon cheesecake.”

[ramajmedia]

Invader Zim: The 10 Weirdest Characters On The Show | ScreenRant

Back when Nickelodeon preferred making cartoons over making overworked child stars, they produced some really impressive titles. These went down in pop culture as some of the most timeless and relevant kids shows ever. Among those once-in-a-decade gems are Spongebob Squarepants and Fairly Odd Parents, and then there's Invader Zim.

RELATED: The 10 Best Nickelodeon Cartoons, Ranked

One could often wonder how this insane cartoon was greenlit as a kids' show given how dark and horrific it can be. It only lasted two seasons but garnered a cult following-- enough to get a belated Netflix movie just recently: Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus. Fun fact: the TV series is even darker than the film. So before you dive into a show marathon, here's a refresher on Invader Zim's most bizarre characters.

10 TAK

During one episode of Invader Zim, a new alien character was introduced. Her name was Tak and like Zim, she was an Irken invader agent tasked with conquering planets for the approval of their almighty Tallest (their leaders). Despite appearing only in one episode, Tak stands out as a 'what-if' character, as in, what if Zim was actually a competent invader?

Tak would have succeeded if not for the combined forces of Dib, Zim, and Gaz; however, she's still eccentric as heck. Instead of getting revenge on Zim for causing an accident which barred her from being an invader, she tried to steal his role instead. Oh, and she apparently kept switching between a British and American accent, plus her choice of disguise is creepy.

9 ZIM

The fact that the two alien invader characters here are the least weird speaks volumes about how dysfunctional the humans are in Invader Zim. Zim does appear normal and understandable in his motivations. What's odd about him is his lack of pessimism. Zim, despite being evil and selfish appears to have the patience of a Buddhist.

He displays this with his broken assistant robot, Gir, and even keeps planning even after being met with failure after failure. That or he's just incredibly blunt which makes it even weirder since some of his inventions are pure genius.

8 GAZ

Gaz Membrane is one of the coolest characters in Invader Zim and is the heavy metal punk girl of your dreams. She also loves video games and has a hair that looks like a Satanic creature's jaw. When not bullying his brother, Dib, Gaz likes to wallow in the suffering and misfortune of others... silently.

Other times she shows a softer side to her like when she gives in to Gir's demands to dance with him and that one episode where she's trying to draw some piggy doodles. Despite appearing to not care about anything at all, Gaz has managed to thwart Zim's evil plans; she even saved the Earth at one point.

7 DIB

Invader Zim would only be half as awesome as it was without the Dib-monkey-- sorry, Dib, his nemesis enemy. In a sea of idiotic and seemingly mentally challenged humans on Earth, Dib stands out as the smartest. He's the only one to truly see Zim for who he is, an alien invader. Still, Dib's fascination for anything paranormal is enough to brand him as a lunatic.

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That and he also makes it hard for the viewers to see who really is the protagonist in the show. Both Dib and Zim's motivations can split the viewers apart. One episode, you may be rooting for Dib; the next, you'll be cheering for Zim. Dib makes it difficult to pick sides, but also makes the show more enjoyable. Also, he's got a big head.

6 MS. BITTERS

Ms. Bitters looks to be a teacher but watch one episode with her in it and you'll be convinced that she has no business being one. She's the most nihilistic character in the show and even goes as far as call her former students worthless to their faces. Other times, she also goes hardcore on the punishments and sends students to the underground class just because.

Sometimes, however, she does give some pessimistic wisdom to her students such as how cruel life can be and how school officials don't really care about education. There's also that one time where she also quarantined the whole school and treated it like a concentration camp after discovering that one of the students had lice. Gotta love a teacher that cares for their students' health.

5 PROFESSOR MEMBRANE

Professor Membrane is Dib and Gaz's dad and also serves as the brightest mind on Earth. He's a scientist but that didn't make him aware that his son was dealing with an alien invasion. Throughout the whole series, Professor Membrane simply appears busy with his science stuff or experiments.

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Also, we'll never know what's underneath that lab coat and those goggles, Membrane never takes them off. Thanks to Enter the Florpus, though, we now know that Membrane's real arms don't exist and were somehow bitten off by sharks when he was just a kid.

4 THE TALLEST

These two's eccentric and smug Irkens' names are never revealed in Invader Zim. Because when it comes to Irken culture and hierarchy, names matter less than their... heights. For someone to be respected in Irken culture, they only need to be vertically impressive or a successful invader.

Despite being tyrannical douches of an alien race, The Tallest have one thing in common with you... they love snacks! They live for snacks. Their plans involve snacks. Whether it's donuts, soda, or bags of chips, The Tallest can be seen eating 50 percent of the time. They're also fussy and prone to tantrums whenever something doesn't go there way, like most tyrants are.

3 COMPUTER

The computer will have to count as an alien character as it was made by Zim. Computer is... well, Zim's computer which he uses for maintaining his home-base and also for planning some invasion strategies for Earth. Mind you, Zim's computer is a lot more stubborn than a Windows device and is more elitist than a Mac.

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Sometimes it tends to go haywire and even voice out its pain or disapproval in a growly manner, seemingly as a reflection to its owner's temperament. Needless to say, Computer has the personality to withstand Zim's er, ambition. Oh, it's also voiced by Jhonen Vasquez, the show's creator, so there.

2 ROBOT PARENTS

Here we have yet again another machine character whom Zim created and treats like family... literally. The Robot Parents are the icing on the cake for Zim's disguise so he could look like a normal stinking Earth child. Because the humans in Invader Zim are none too bright, they have no trouble passing off Robot Parents as actual human parents, especially during the Parent-Teacher Night episode in the show.

That isn't to say these mechanical progenitors are perfect, they're actually pretty creepy and are prone to malfunction. This tends to happen frequently since they can only mimic what the Computer (or Gir) feeds them as normal human interactions. Even so, they're sweet enough to welcome Zim home after school.

1 GIR

Last but not least is the resident show-stealer of Invader Zim, Gir. Supposedly, he's just Zim's robot-assistant; all invaders are given one but since The Tallest just wanted to get rid of Zim, they gave him a malfunctioning robot whose brains are made of refuse and calls itself "Gir." The rest is history.

There really is no understanding Gir's chaotic personality. He can quickly turn from adorable to destructive (especially in the presence of candy). Useless as he is to Zim, however, the incompetent alien would be lost without Gir. Somehow, the two make their master and slave "relationship" work. Zim did try to fix Gir's loose bolts but then Gir ended up smarter and tried to kill him. Since then, there has been no replacement to Invader Zim's abnormally disturbed alien robot.

NEXT: The 10 Best Episodes Of Invader Zim Of All Time

source https://screenrant.com/invader-zim-weirdest-characters/

[mangokiwitropicalswirl]

Theoretical Physics

Post-Triangle one shot, at @damselindistressmya ‘s request! This is for you Mer!

PG (yeah, sorry!)

It’s not that she doesn’t believe in the possibility, it’s just that it doesn’t matter.  

Past lives are one implausible thing, but parallel universes are another altogether. The thing about theoretical physics is that it’s just that -- theoretical. If multiverse theory is true, every individual choice made by every individual person generates a new reality. Each outcome creates its own timeline. Quanta can exist in two places at once. Light is both a particle and a wave.

There’s a universe she thinks of most, where she married Ethan and is living comfortably in the suburbs with a kid or two, her ova safely unharvested. (She wonders how that Dana deals with the boredom, or if she’s long since stopped asking the hard questions, settled with her lot in life).

There’s a universe where Marcus knocked her up in high school and they ran off together, to her parents’ eternal disappointment. That Dana is working as a waitress or plodding through community college. (She knows this version is ashamed of herself, aware that she could’ve been so much more, but now there are too many choices to undo).

There’s the universe where she stayed in medicine, choosing surgery or pediatrics over pathology. Maybe that Dr. Scully saves lives every day, but is overworked and lonely.  

Or the myriad universes created every time she wanted to leave Mulder and the X Files and actually followed through. The one that first year, after Deep Throat died. The time she stepped away after her coma. The thousand Mondays when it all just seemed too much -- especially after Philadelphia when the snarl of anger in her gut threatened to unleash all her dark and girlish motives.

But what difference does it make that all these universes exist if you can’t interact with them, can’t reach them? You can’t call your alter ego on the phone so she can tell you that the grass is, if not greener, definitely a different shade of dissatisfaction.

It would be a fundamental law of every world that it’s impenetrable. That the best we could do would be to imagine their existence, or that they imagine ours.

But that’s what Mulder has been insisting, isn’t it? That he had somehow breached a quantum wall and fallen into a world where they were both themselves, but somehow other? But that the outcome of their choices there would impact here? “You were there, Scully, in 1939. You saved the world!”

Now she’s confused.

At least as confused as he had been on all those painkillers. It was painkillers, right?

She thinks back to the hospital, to the bruise on Mulder’s cheek. Once they’d drug him from the water and got him on the Navy chopper back to D.C. General, she had filled in his chart. In another accident report it seems foolish to take seriously, there were her notes detailing his waterlogged rambling. Something about Nazis and a right hook, a wartime weapon and someone who looked like her sporting a knockout -- “pun intended,” he had mumbled incoherently -- red dress.

She had stood over his bed and waited for him to wake, the day’s worth of panic, of AWACS surveillance and frenzy, sliding off her. Had she kissed Skinner in an elevator? She couldn’t remember.

How is it Mulder looked so attractive in that flimsy hospital gown? Had he been working out more lately? She had let her eyes linger over his shapely tanned arms and remembered with a flush the way she’d gripped them as he lifted her out of that cavern in Antarctica. She had had to force her gaze to return to the blossoming purple bruise around his left eye socket.

As her hands slide over the steering wheel on her drive home, she recognizes all this musing on the nature of multiverse theory for what it is -- an attempt to distract herself from the hum in the back of her brain, the near-panic that is circling and circling her subconscious. Mulder had said I love you. And she had said, “Oh brother.”

Playful exasperation has for so long been a default setting between both of them -- more often on her part, but sometimes on his -- that she had skipped straight to it before it dawned on her that he was deadly, tenderly earnest. It didn’t take long. The realization slammed into her with the solidity of a left hook as she walked out the door of his room. She had paused and gripped the wall rail just around the corner out of his line of sight.

Holy shit, he meant it.

Like, really meant it.

Fuck.

She thought for a half-second about turning around, walking back into the room and trying again, but what would she say? “I love you too.” She did. Of course she did. She’d been on the on ramp to saying all of it and more in his hallway this past summer, before the goddamn bee.

But they’d been to the ends of the earth together, and then they’d argued. And Diana had complicated things, and they had been reassigned. And now both of them were taut with a hundred things they weren’t saying. So for him to say it now, it took her by surprise. She wasn’t prepared to answer back. But. Fuck. He really meant it.

This is the phrase that had settled into a rhythm in her brain on the walk out to the car and is tormenting her all the way home as she determines, he hadn’t actually been on any painkillers.

A warmth has lodged itself in her right hipbone, and is spreading from where the back of his knuckles had lingered against her the entire time she stood at his bedside. She vacillates between blushing furiously with embarrassment at her reply, “Oh brother?” Shit! What were you thinking? and a twisting sensation in her stomach when she remembers the way he had called her back to the side of the bed. He had fixed her firmly in his gaze and his voice had deepened as he did his best to make her believe what he said.

That should have been the giveaway. For all the implausible things he has tried to convince her of, he has never tried like this. There’s always been a gimmick and a slide show. Now, his simple gravity upends her.

What are they going to do? Add this to the pile of unspoken things between them, the ballast of which is now threatening to capsize their entire relationship? And she’s still angry at him for the way he had expected her to change after Antarctica, as if he’d had finally won and her conversion was the prize.

But moments ago, she had lived in a universe where she never hadn’t heard him say I love you. Hadn’t even expected him to say it, ever.  And now, she lives in a universe where he did. A universe where he has finally, finally said something to name their increasingly intractable devotion. She blushes again, a happy split second before the cold wash of regret about her response returns and douses the warmth of the memory.

She parks the car absentmindedly and finds herself in her apartment, suddenly desperate for a friend other than Mulder she could call at this time of night. And not her mother. She can’t tell her mother about this. But she needs to analyze it, hash it out, figure out how much damage she has done, figure out what to do next. Preferably with a girlfriend over several stiff drinks.

How many years into knowing him had she let everyone else slip away? What was the moment she made the decision that created this universe where he has become absolutely everything? How many moments like this has she had -- the late night in her kitchen, after a drive home from a hospital, when she stares at her phone longingly? Sometimes it rings and sometimes it doesn’t. It feels like thousands, as if every version of every story she’s caught in boils down to these waiting moments.

Tonight, it doesn’t ring. She doesn’t think it will. She crawls into bed not expecting to sleep. But after a long time, she finally does.

There is a universe where Scully decides to let this blow over, where she greets him innocently on Monday morning, everything back to their status quo. But now she imagines that universe as a ghost ship, sailing lifelessly through dark, silent seas. She wants the lights and the music, the chase and the jump, the kiss, and the knockout.

She gets up at her weekday alarm at 5:30. She showers, throws on a black sweater and jeans and is back at the hospital by 7. He won’t be expecting her attention at the hospital for such a benign set of injuries. The overnight was just a precaution, to make sure there were no residual effects from his apparent blow to the head. She stops for coffee and donuts on the way.

He’s still asleep when she settles into the chair next to his bed, an endearing trickle of drool cascading from his open mouth into his hospital pillow. Looking over him, she feels her heart clench with what until yesterday she would have only considered protectiveness, a sense of responsibility, affection. She smiles and leans back in her chair, watching.

“What are you doing here?” His voice croaks as his eyes squeeze open.

“Brought you some donuts,” she nods toward the waxy paper sack and steaming styrofoam cup on the nightstand. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” he eyes her with suspicion as he presses the buttons that angle the bed upward. He clears his throat and brushes some hair back from where it’s matted against his forehead. “This isn’t, um, our standard discharge procedure, Scully. What’s up?”

Scully racks her brain for some plausible excuse before settling on the old standby of medical expertise. “I wanted to double check your meds,” she hesitates. “I wasn’t sure they had accounted for your time underwater.”

Mulder looks at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for more. “Donuts?”

“There’s a new shop around the corner from my place,” Scully lies, “seemed like the thing to do.”

“No other reason?” Mulder asks as the fuzziness of yesterday’s memory sharpens into clarity and he understands why she’s back.

“Well,” Scully pauses. She has an idea of how to proceed but isn’t sure she can pull it off. “I also needed some advice.”

“Advice?” Mulder straightens up, fully awake now.

“Yeah, advice.” Scully fidgets with her hands before forcing herself to meet his eyes. “A friend told me something recently, and I’m afraid my response might have hurt their feelings.”

“A friend?” Mulder looks slightly wounded, but plays along.

“Yes, a good friend.” She looks at him. “A dear friend.”

Mulder nods.

“They said something and I thought they were joking.” She sighs, shy. “I realized later they weren’t.”

“And you need my advice about what, exactly?” Mulder decides to make her work for it.

“How do I apologize?” Scully stares at him earnestly, swallowing the nervous lump that has formed in her throat.

“I guess it depends on how good of a friend this is,” he says. “And on what you wish you would have said instead.”

“It’s my best friend.” She reaches her hand and covers his where it lays on the edge of the bed. “And I wish I’d have told him, me too.”

Mulder smiles and turns his hand over to interlace his fingers in hers. But Scully continues.

“But I also need this friend to know that I don’t know what that means for me right now.” She looks down slightly, avoiding his gaze. “That I’m not sure what to do about it. And I was really surprised by what he said. I wasn’t prepared.”

Mulder runs his thumb across the top of her hand. “I’d bet your friend surprised himself too,” he suggests. “I bet he didn’t really think it all through anyway. It was just probably something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.”

Scully nods and squeezes his hand. “What do you think this friend would want me to do next?” she asks.

“I think he’d want you to know he can wait.”

“Wait for what?” Scully raises her eyebrows.

“Wait until you know what you want to do about it,” Mulder is reassuring, still circling his thumb gently on the back of her hand. “I think he would tell you, he’s not going anywhere.”

Scully nods again and swallows, her eyes glistening slightly. “Okay.” She croaks in a whisper, smiling.

“Now, I think I was promised donuts?” Mulder grins, jerking his head toward the paper sack.

“You were,” Scully smiles and opens the bag, another universe shaping itself into being as she hands him a Boston Creme.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: Charlie

FINALS WEEK UPDATE HAPPENED, WOOOO. Thanks everyone who's made it to chapter three, y'all are rockstars. <3

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start 

Previous 

Next

Ao3

There was, Kai had to admit, a few upsides to having a broken leg.

Primarily that she no longer had to do leg day.

“I said sprints, Private Tucker!” Wash yelled.

“I’m going to spit in your next meal! Except it won’t be spit! If you know what I’m talking about!”

Kai cackled. “Doesn’t he know you’re into that by now?”

“Don’t encourage him—wait, what?”

Kai leaned on the crude crutch Donut had helped fashion for her. “You’re still mad at him for hiding the wrist thing, aren’t you?”

“He should have told us,” Wash muttered.

“So… you’re making him do squats until his ass looks as good as yours?”

“That is not why I’m making him do squats!”

“Uh-huh,” Kai said skeptically.

“Kai,” Wash groaned. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Where’s Caboose at?”

“He’s having a bad day,” Wash sighed. “Church yelled at him again.”

“Shit, what about this time?”

“He got him confused with Epsilon again,” Wash said, sounding absolutely exhausted. Kai hobbled forward the few steps it took to get to him, leaning against him. He relaxed the second they touched.

Caboose’s bad days were getting more and more frequent. Epsilon was better with things than Church was. And Church was… moody, without Tex or Carolina around. York’s absence was bothering him too, but getting him to admit that was harder than Tucker when it was his turn to pick what kind of sex they were having.

“You’re doing pretty good,” she said. “You know. For a cop.”

Wash snorted slightly, pressing his helmet against hers. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. I know you’ve got physical therapy with Doc later today.”

“Screw you! Maybe I’ll let Doc give me another physical!”

“Wait, did you sleep with—you know what? I don’t want to know.”

Kai huffed, mildly put out. “You could at least act jealous.”

“We’re already making Tucker jealous by cuddling while he does sprints.”

“Oooh,” Kai said, grinning at the thought. “You know—”

“We aren’t having sex outdoors, where anyone could see us, just so you can prove your broken leg hasn’t slowed you down,” Wash said.

“Boring,” Kai said, scowling.

Wash chuckled and placed a hand on her knee.

Tucker finally returned, collapsing in front of them. “You’re both the worse,” he gasped out, chest heaving like it did the last time Kai and Wash had double teamed him. “Seriously, the absolute worst.”

“I told you I was going to break you,” Wash observed. “You seemed pretty enthusiastic then.”

“I thought you meant in a hot sex way!” Tucker hadn’t moved from the ground. “Not this weird masochistic drill sergeant thing!”

“Oooh! We totally need to role play that later! Or, wait! We can do the pizza guy and the—”

“Let’s table that conversation for later,” Wash said, placing his hand over his visor. “Tucker… you know I just want you to be able to look after yourself. In case something happens.”

“Dude, that’s why we have you. What’s the point of the badass boyfriend if he can’t defend you from the forces of evil?”

“Abs?” Kai suggested.

“Well, that too.”

“Tucker, please,” Wash said quietly. “With Tex and Carolina gone…”

Things were different. Wash was the only Freelancer around, and it was… it was pretty weird. It was like when York had left Blood Gulch, making Tex their only Freelancer.

Dex and the rest of the Reds—and Doc, because it wasn’t like he was going to go far from wherever Donut was—had set up shop across the canyon. Dex came to visit her mostly, since it was hard for her to walk around with her leg. Sometimes she drove over in the tank, but it made Sarge twitchy, and a twitchy Sarge usually led to squeaky Wash, so she tried to save that for special occasions or instances of extreme boredom.

There was something in the air that Kai didn’t like. When Tex had been the only Freelancer, Kai had ended up alone for a long time.

She didn’t want to be left alone again.

Felix grinned as he listened to Locus in his radio. It helped make the chatter of the idiots following him almost tolerable.

The crack of Locus’s sniper rifle was almost comforting as he started to pick off the survivors. One down, then two, then three. Finally, the group was dead, and Locus moved in.

“Still no sign of the simulation troopers,” Locus observed in Felix’s ear. Felix frowned, puzzled about where they could have gotten to.

“Sir!” One of the kids—Andersmith—yelled. “Footprints! Leading into the forest!”

Damn, he was observant. “Well, let’s follow them,” Felix said. Running into Locus was as good a reason as any to kill off these kids.

His real radio crackled to life. “Sir! Three of the survivors split off; I think they were heading for higher ground!”

“Find them,” Locus ordered. “We’re about to have company.”

Felix tightened his grip on his rifle. Things were off-script. And while Felix might normally enjoy the chaos, Control wouldn’t be happy. And Control not being happy usually affected their paycheck.

“Keep it quiet,” he ordered into his helmet as loudly as he could without risking the kids picking up on it.

Locus growled slightly in his ear. He didn’t like the situation any more than Felix did. Everything was spiraling out of control; first the ship hadn’t crashed properly, and now this? Survivors didn’t make it off the ship.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Fuck—he’d lost Palomo when he wasn’t looking, too caught up in his own thoughts. He turned around, craning his neck. “Palomo!”

There was a loud screech, and for a second Felix thought that one of the pirates had found and killed the irritating Rebel. The sound of Palomo yelling, “Wait, you’re not a Fed!” crushed those dreams quickly.

Felix crashed through the underbrush, but the others beat him to it. “A survivor?” Matthews breathed. “General Kimball!” Felix opened his mouth to tell the kid not to bother—they were far out of range—but there was a screeching noise and the radios connected. Felix felt another piece of the puzzle fall out of his hands and tumble out of sight. There was no way the radios should be working. What the fuck was going on? “Kimball! We found a survivor!”

“What?” Kimball was incredulous.

Felix bit his tongue, knowing Locus was listening intently through the radio, and walked towards the others. They were surrounding the fallen form of a soldier in dusty-gold armor—Palomo, it seemed, had panicked and attacked. And succeeded. Whoever they were dealing with clearly couldn’t be that much of a threat.

“Kimball!” Jensen said. “I recognize him! He’s Private Harris!”

“Who?” Felix asked.

“You know!” Jensen said. “From the Reds and Blues.”

“Felix,” Locus said lowly. “New orders from Control.” Only Felix would be able to tell the tension in Locus’s voice as he said that, the danger hidden in those words. Whatever the orders were, Locus wasn’t happy about it. And if Locus didn’t like the orders…

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Felix snapped to both Locus and Jensen.

“Control wants the Reds and Blues alive.”

God. Fucking. Damn it.

“Confirmed, Kimball,” Felix said, scowling down as he knelt to check on the guy. The lucky bastard’s visor was shattered, probably beyond repair. Felix shrugged to himself and tugged off the guy’s helmet, curious about the face underneath.

“Felix?” Locus demanded softly, and Felix realized Locus had found a perch nearby, was observing all of this through the scope of his rifle.

“Control wants them alive, remember?” Felix said, so softly that the others couldn’t hear him over their own discussions about the Reds and Blues and their achievements.

“Well then, Private Harris,” Felix said out loud, for the benefit of Locus as well as the idiots surrounding him. “Where the fuck did your friends get to?”

<Cee, I can’t reach Alpha anymore.>

Carolina worried a sore on her lip with her teeth. “And no sign of Delta?”

“None,” Texas said, dumping a load of firewood next to the fire.

Carolina gritted her teeth. “I was asking Epsilon.”

“And our range is about the same,” Texas said with a shrug. “So it doesn’t matter. We’re out of range. No messages from anyone.”

Carolina gritted her teeth and poked at the MRE they had grabbed. Texas didn’t require food, which at least made supplies easier. At least there was one upside to having Texas as a companion on her search for York.

“There’s something weird about the way the radios are behaving,” Epsilon said, appearing on Carolina’s knee. “It’s… I can’t think of why half of the frequencies aren’t working at all, and the rest are only working short range.”

Tex raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Could be an atmospheric thing.”

“I guess,” Epsilon said, but he sounded doubtful.

“You heard that chatter a few miles back?” Texas asked, looking at Carolina directly.

“Yes,” she said tensely. “It sounded like…”

“The bubble shield,” Tex finished for her. “Freelancer tech on this planet?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Carolina had to admit.

“Pirates, Freelancer tech… could be fun,” Texas was goading her, she knew it. “It’d just be a short detour.”

“They might know something about where the other half of the ship crashed,” Carolina acknowledged. Maybe a fight would relax her, too. Maybe it would let her meet Tex’s helmeted gaze for more than five seconds at a time.

“You run ahead,” Tex said. “I’ll catch up.”

Epsilon started to prime the speed boost.

The fight was painfully short—the knots in Carolina’s shoulders didn’t loosen at all, and it was still just strange to have Tex fighting beside her.

Tex picked her way through the crates the pirates had been guarding, calling out what she found while Carolina tried to interrogate the sole survivor.

“Just shoot him already,” Tex said coldly when it became clear their prisoner wasn’t going to talk. “If he knows where it crashed it’s probably in his logs. We don’t need him alive for that.”

“Is that your answer to everything?” Carolina asked sharply.

Tex’s response was simply to raise her gun and do exactly that. Carolina didn’t flinch as the blood splattered everywhere. She’d seen worse. Done worse too. But there was still something unsettling about the cold, mechanical way Tex executed the prisoner.

“You’re still upset about that?” Texas sighed, kneeling down to pick up the helmet.

Carolina went still. “We’re not talking about that,” she said.

“Then stop looking at me like that!”

“I’d rather not look at you at all,” Carolina snarled. “You had no right—”

“You made that call. I never agreed to follow it. You’re not the only one he hurt, Carolina.”

“I’ve got a location!” Epsilon yelled, clearly determined to not let this conversation take its natural course, which Carolina was fairly certain would only lead to blows. “It’s called “Crash Site Alpha”, it’s pretty far from here, but I bet we can make it in a few days.”

“Damn it,” Carolina cursed.

“He’s York,” Tex said. “He’s survived this long without us, he can make it a few days still.”

Neither of them wanted to admit the possibility that York hadn’t survived the crash.

“Let’s get going then,” Carolina said.

“You haven’t slept since the crash,” Texas said flatly. “You’re going to sleep at least four hours.”

“You—”

“I’d really rather not have to punch your lights out again, Carolina,” Texas said. “Last time, it took you forever to wake up.”

Carolina’s scowl only deepened at the reminder.

“Sleep, Carolina,” Texas said. “A few hours won’t make much difference for York.”

York woke up with a splitting headache and his HUD broken.

<York!>

And here York hadn’t realized Delta was capable of raising his voice. An AI shouting in his head hurt. Or that could possibly be the concussion.

“I’m fine, Dee,” he muttered. “Just… give me a second, okay?”

<Healing unit is running at full capacity.>

“Great,” York groaned. “The others?”

<I cannot detect anything in range. But it is possible that the radiation from the ship’s engines are interfering with my sensors.>

York groaned, getting to his feet. The world wobbled before readjusting. He possibly had a concussion. Not good. Those always took forever for the healing unit to fix up. “Anyone nearby?”

<Several officers are in the room to your left.>

York’s movements were jerky at first, but he made his way over to the room. Two were unconscious, one was dead. York woke up the first two, and the three of them headed further into the ship, looking for other survivors.

The ship was a disaster, and everywhere they turned, there were bodies. Holes had been ripped through the hull, smoke filled the air, and York was pretty sure they were currently walking on the ceiling instead of the floor.

“How could this have happened?” One of the crew memebers demanded. “This—I don’t understand!”

“We can figure that out later,” York said grimly. He was very aware of the shotgun strapped to his back in that moment. He had a feeling he might need it sooner rather than later. “Right now, we need to find our way off this ship. I think there might be a radiation leak.” Delta buzzed nervously, still desperately trying to find the others, with no luck.

“Fuck,” the other said.

There were fifteen survivors altogether that York could find before they stumbled out of the ship.

“Where the hell are we?” One of the mechanics whispered, looking around.

“No idea,” York said numbly. Delta was just as confused as everyone else, not recognizing any of the flora that they could see, or even the positions of the stars.

They were in a ship graveyard—the broken husks of ships laid out clearly enough that every single one of York’s instincts were telling him it was a trap. This many ships in one area made it seem like a junkyard, rather than a natural crash site. There was no way this was a coincidence, but he had no idea what kind of thing could have brought down so many ships in one place. In the distance lay a forest; tropical, from the looks of it, thick and dark and green.  

“Let’s move towards the forest,” York said, gesturing broadly. “Maybe there’s a town nearby.”

“Right,” one of the others said—a pilot, York thought, but he didn’t have a name.

It was slow going—several of them were injured, and at one point York and one of the larger women had to carry one of the others, but eventually they limped into the forests.

“You guys try to make contact through the radios,” York ordered, although Delta was already screaming out, trying to contact Tex, Epsilon, or Alpha, to no avail. “Martinez, Nguyen—” he named the burly woman who had helped him carry the injured crew member and the pilot, whose names he had learned as they made their trek into the woods, “you two, let’s try to find higher ground. See if we can spot a town or anything.”

“I’d ask who the fuck put you in charge, but…” Martinez said darkly, glancing around. The other twelve were hanging back, hands to their radios as they tried to call for help. Delta was trying to boost the signal as best he could, but there was… something was still interfering with the radios, and Delta didn’t know what it was. York didn’t like it when Delta didn’t know things. It made him twitchy.  

“We’re really all that made it?” Nguyen said softly, looking over her shoulder.

“There might be others,” York said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Fuck, she was young. “It looked like it was only half of the ship back there.”

<By my calculations, it is likely the others were on the other half of the ship.> Delta said, and the feeling of relief that was sinking into York’s bones wasn’t entirely his own. <It is possible that they are fine, just out of range.>

York decided to put his faith in the Reds and Blues’ impossible luck. If anyone could survive the impossible, it was them.

There was a rustling noise in the distance, and York’s eyes narrowed. It sounded like someone moving. Someone following them, maybe?

<York!> Delta sounded panic. <The others are no longer attempting to reach out on their radios!>

“Fuck,” York said. He glanced over his shoulder. “You two, keep going, I think I’ve heard something.”

With his damaged HUD, York couldn’t tell if it was a rabbit or a person in the bushes, and Delta couldn’t get a proper read. But he crept forward anyways, Delta’s terror humming in his head bad enough to give him a migraine. But he felt it too—maybe he’d felt it since they’d entered these woods.

York had been hunted before. He knew what it felt like to be dogged for hours, days even on end. He’d gotten lucky the last time. He wasn’t so sure he’d like to try his luck on surviving another round.

But he was feeling that way again. And that made him nervous.

He nearly tripped over the kid in armor. And all the AI enhanced reflexes couldn’t make him catch his balance in time to block the rifle butt to the face, knocking him out cold on the spot.

Damn it.

When he woke up, Delta was absolutely silent. Still present, sure—York could feel Delta’s anxiety curling up in his chest like a knot—but completely and utterly silent. It was an unusual occurrence, and one that put York right on edge. Something was very, very wrong.

“Ugh,” York groaned, looking around, trying to get his bearings. He’d been taken out of the woods and propped up in the back of a warthog which wasn’t moving yet. His helmet was gone—but, given the complete mess his visor had been, that really wasn’t all that surprising.

“Easy there,” a voice said. “You’ve got a concussion. Try not to move too much.”

“The others,” York rasped. “Where are—”

“We found the other scouts,” the man said. “Martinez and Nguyen? They’re alright. The others are making sure they have medical attention. But we weren’t fast enough for the rest. I’m sorry.”

York’s head was swimming, but he managed to turn his head enough to look for the source of the voice. At least Martinez and Nguyen made it, he thought distantly, even as he wondered what the fuck had happened to the rest of the group. And more importantly, why the three of them hadn’t been killed like the others.

His eye finally focused, and he saw orange. Not Grif orange, with the yellow undertones that made him yell so much, but orange. Orange on grey and a hint of steel…

“Finally,” the voice said, mocking and confident. “I thought you were going to be out of it all day.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” York groaned, trying to remember exactly what had happened. The last thing he remembered… “Where am I?”

“Welcome to the planet Chorus,” the man said, leaning against the warthog next to York, helmet tilted in a way that indicated a smirk.

York straightened up slowly, cradling his head in his hands. “Well hey there Felix,” he said, finally placing the voice and why Delta was being so quiet. “Long time no see.”