#for now im almost done with one(even though im using two different sources for its initial translation(

[misfortunegirl]

i actually have a new hobby i got obsessed with and thats translating songs to japanese 🤓

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 11

ten. the scorpion: same eyes in different people.

Summary: Clementine begrudgingly goes back to doing her actual job of guarding The Prince, though unfortunately The Prince wants to go stare death in the face and see her brother. How she knew he was on the train is beyond Clementine, who is unfortunately used to The Prince being smug and correct almost all of the time, and would rather be with the girl than let her roam this train full of killers on her own. A chapter about family or not being welcome in one.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 5736 words. this time it's only been two months ! WOW! but also hello again friends, i'm here today to celebrate my favourite fucked up dynamic which is Clem & The Prince. i could write them forever i honestly could, I love them so much. this chapter has less editing than the last ones so it might be a bit everywhere but im very tired and haven't been back to the source material in quite a while (the book). i hope you enjoy, and as always I would love if you left a comment about what you've been enjoying so far! ALSO QUITE A BIT OF CLEM LORE???

Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: discussions of murder, violence, unhealthy family dynamics, some allusions to torture but only faintly, drinking, grieving kind of??

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @chuyouchu @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @folkloreandfall @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @thyeb @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair @nina-isabelle @queenofspades403 @ayaahaddadd @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @persephones-garden

----

Despite how inherently she lacked one, being around The White Death's family had never made her yearn for a family of her own. Of course she's well aware that they're not exactly the model of a perfect, healthy family dynamic, but it really was all she had to go on -

[I know he's here.] Case and point, The Prince had been sending increasingly cryptic texts that Clementine could only assume was about her brother. The Prince had a way of knowing things, and more infuriatingly, jumping to conclusions based on Clementine's non-answers that were correct a frustrating amount of time. 

"What have you done now -?" Clementine had answered The Prince's phone call with her patience wearing thin.

"I've found the case, our friend is just now working on getting it open for us," The Prince says, reminding Clementine of the hollow-eyed Yuchi who had tailed after The Prince into the bar cart looking like he was already half way to giving up, "and I do worry when you speak to me like that," The Prince continues with faux concern, "imagine if someone heard you talking to your poor, sweet client like that; it'd certainly blow your cover." As if she even cares about how Clementine speaks over the phone to her for the benefit of Clementine, as if she didn't simply take any opportunity she could to exert even some small amount of control over her bodyguard. 

"I'm coming to check on you -"

"So proud of you for remembering to do your job," immediately The Prince fired back, voice all but dripping with sarcasm, and Clementine knows she's rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. 

"Ma'am I was following your instructions of distracting the man in the blue suit." 

"I didn't think you'd go on for this long."

"So you're calling me to come back because you do actually want me around?"

"Don't flatter yourself; Mister Kimura has hundreds of combinations to go through on that suitcase and I'm rather bored," at least her tone matched her words, coming with a faint, exasperated sigh.

"I struggle to believe you're yearning for my companionship in this moment," Clementine deadpans, and much to her surprise, The Prince laughs, the sound bright and genuine on the other end of the line. 

"Of course not!" The Prince practically crows, though the levity dies out, "however I would like to have a serious conversation with you about withholding important information, and you not doing that again." 

About a million different things run through Clementine's head at once, all most certainly incriminating, and all things she'd take to her grave. However she knows better than to panic in this moment, remembering the girl's earlier text messages.

"There are things you don't need to know, ma'am," Clementine tells her gently, all the while thinking - how was I meant to tell you that yes your brother is here, but he's dead!?

"Agree to disagree, fruit fly," and The Prince hangs up. Fuck. How would she even know about her brother being aboard the train? The girl has always known far too much, even for her resources. 

As a child she'd had this insatiable curiosity that had made Clementine wary when they'd first met. The Prince had always seemed like she'd been starved for information, never giving a real reason as to why she'd poke and prod and investigate so thoroughly for someone her age. Information gathering for it's own sake, her father had always showered her with affection for her persistent nature. 

"What's wrong with you?" Was the first thing The Prince had ever said to Clementine. 

In The White Death's office, the next room over, The Son was arguing with his father about the budget they'd been allocated for Clementine's wardrobe and how he believed it wasn't enough to dress her like a believable socialite. Of course Clementine couldn't care less about how she's dressed as long as she's able to do her job; some of the dresses The Son had picked out hadn't exactly been conductive to some the more physical aspects of her job, but they hadn't stopped her either.

The girl is small, dark hair and eyes that reminded Clementine almost too much of The Son; this must be the sister he had occasionally complained about. Never around others, but Clementine clearly didn't matter when it was dawn and she was wiping the puke from the corners of his mouth, or putting ointment on the grazes he got after he ate shit on the sidewalk outside of a club. This is the sister he claims his father cares more about than him.

Clementine frowned at the little girl and her intrusive question.

"You're a child." Clementine still hasn't lost the Russian accent she'd adopted after leaving the country to find The White Death. She avoids using it at The Son's behest, but makes an effort to occasionally revert to it, if only to give off the impression that it was her natural accent. She's not sure why, but he looks strangely at her when she does.

"You sound like my father," the girl says, her own accent a stark contrast.

"Roshan Resnikov?" 

"I'm Prince Resnikov."

"I know."

"Because you're my brother's girlfriend." It's not a question. Clementine corrects her anyways.

"Bodyguard." 

"That's not what he says."

"We," Clementine hesitates, unsure of how to even interact with a child, let alone explain the nuances of the situation to her, "play pretend," she finally settles on, "to keep him safe."

"You keep him safe?" Even at six the girl had a handle on conveying her disdain. Clementine is growing less fond of this girl by the moment. She sounds, just for a moment, like the White Death himself when Clementine had initially requested to work for him. Then, after a moment and without any warning, her gaze shifts to Clementine's bare forearms where she'd rolled up her sleeves, "you let people hurt you." 

Before Clementine can respond, however, an explosive shout comes from the next room -

"If you mispronounce Balenciaga one more time I'm going to kill myself!"

Both Clementine and The Prince look to the office door where they'd just heard The Son shout dramatically. Neither of them hear his father's reply, though the door remains close.

"Father and I don't take him seriously," the young girl says with such ease and casualness, but with a hint of something that sounds like a warning, something territorial. Father and I. 

"If your father didn't take him seriously he wouldn't have hired me."

The girl's expression scrunches up into something disbelieving. After another moment, she fixes Clementine with a scrutinising look, an unnerving look coming from any child let alone this one. 

"You'd be pretty if you didn't have those ugly scars," as if it's note most normal thing in the world, "and you don't talk right," she says, "you're meant to be nice to me." Clementine was unsure of what prompted this response; she thought she had been nice to the girl. In the years that followed, Clementine would learn that being nice to The Prince was just the same as being nice to her brother; humour them, but most importantly, agree with them. 

It was, unfortunately a truth that had carried on even to the present day.

In the bar cart, The Prince is suspiciously alone, of course apart from The Wolf's corpse still propped up in the corner. Her charge is wearing that Cheshire smile that has only ever meant bad things, watching Clementine with a kind of smugness that she knew set her bodyguard on edge. 

Clementine will not speak first, however, making a beeline for the bar. With lazy steps the young woman follows, going so far as to lean on the bar itself, chin resting on her hand with that same, watchful smile. 

"How is he?" 

Clementine glances at her out of the corner of her eye as she opens the bottle of expensive rum, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. The Prince sighs, as if disappointed with the non-answer, momentarily giving up the bit as she tipped her head to the side, the slightest frown gracing her youthful features.

"I do wish you'd watch your tone when answering my calls," The Prince doesn't actually tsk as she reprimands Clementine, but it's clearly there in her words.

"And I wish you wouldn't identify me to strangers in an effort to cause me problems, but we don't always get what we wish for," Clementine told her blithely, back to the girl as she pulled a cup from the shelf behind her.

"Yes, but he wasn't a stranger was he?" The Prince responds slyly.

"You didn't know that, did you?" Clementine frowns for a moment, looking up with genuine concern as she poured her drink. Of course it's a trap, and something almost malevolent lights up in the Prince's eyes.

"So he's not a stranger?" The Prince gives a mean little smile, adding, "I thought I may have recognised him myself," she shoots for nonchalance, "like I read something about him somewhere, or perhaps saw a picture." Clementine goes still, halfway through her first large sip of the liquor, the liquid burning her tongue. Looking over her shoulder, she meets The Prince's knowing gaze, the girl raising a single, perfect eyebrow as if in challenge. Clementine swallows the rum and slowly turns back to the girl, determined to put on a show of being unimpressed, even when alarms were going off in the back of her mind.

"He's worked for my father before," she says, gaze unwavering, like she's desperate for Clementine to react, "did you know?"

"I don't think this is -" Clementine puts her cup down, expression drawn where she meets The Prince's piercing gaze.

"Around twelve years ago, I think it was." She's giving Clementine this calculating look, as if trying to tell if Clementine knows more than she lets on. Clementine looks up blinks slowly, but it's enough for The Prince, the young woman whose known her for years, enough to divine meaning and truth from it. As if satisfied with Clementine's non-answer, The Prince raised herself from the bar, crossing her arms, cruel little smile gracing her lips, "oh how benevolent you are then, Scorpion, if your report from New York is to be believed."

"Where is Kimura?" Clementine asks instead of acknowledging The Prince's statement and it's implications. Clearly frustrated at Clementine's unwillingness to play along, the girl's grin drops, gaze flicking almost irately to the bathroom at the back of the carriage. 

"Busy," Clementine watches as the girl appears to physically shake off her irritation, like it passes through her like a shiver, leaving her as bright as she'd boarded the train. These little moments, these cracks Clementine is allowed to see in her mask, she finds fascinating; where there should be humanity is simply a tide of malevolence and intrigue. From observations and anecdotes she knows that The Prince is talented at gaining fear through respect; her classmates, her teachers, any authority she appeared to come across. Clementine wonders if that's one of the reasons she despises Clementine so strongly, since she could never get Clementine to do her bidding in the way that made her feel the most powerful.

"Still, you've reminded me -" tone chipper, The Prince brings Clementine out of her thoughts and back into their reality, "- let's go see him."

"Him?" Clementine already knows who, but she really doesn't like where The Prince is going with this. As if able to read her thoughts, she shakes her head as if Clementine were a child making a mistake.

"My darling brother," she sounds sincere despite being anything but, "I know he's here," the smile remained, but something had gone cold in the girl's eyes, "and I know you know too."

"How do you know?"

"I don't answer your questions, fruit fly." 

"How do you know your brother is on this train?" 

There's that look again, that intrigued and cruel kind of amusement in The Prince's expression. 

"It's taken you long enough to take me seriously," and beneath the cryptic wording, The Prince sounds almost triumphant. Turning on her heel she begins to flounce out, calling out that she's going with or without Clementine, and despite the day she was having, Clementine felt beholden to her station. Silent but swift, Clementine is following her back through first class. 

In the small segment between carriages, Clementine grabs The Prince by the arm, insistently pulling her to head down the righthand aisle instead. When she hisses for her not to draw attention, she considers it a small victory when The Prince rolls her eyes but agrees. Several carriages later, once more finding themselves in the space between carriages, upon seeing Lemon approaching them, Clementine shoves The Prince into the bathroom, despite the girl's many initial protests -

"Let me do my job!" Clementine hissed, and thankfully the girl relented just as the doors slid open and Lemon joined the confined area.

"Oh, sorry, I -" upon realising it was Clementine, he frowned in question.

"I am a human, I do still need to pee from time to time," she said with an irate awkwardness, "but I've been waiting here for almost ten minutes -" taking a chance on The Prince's love of schemes and nosy nature, she knocks on the bathroom door, and they both hear 'still occupied!' from inside.

"Oh," Lemon says rather lamely, taking it at face value and quickly moving on. 

"You owe me one," The Prince is practically preening as she leaves the stall, smug grin stretching from ear to ear. The momentary ruse had been convincing, Clementine concedes, but at what cost. Her client's ego hadn't needed even the smallest of boosts. 

Outside of third carriage, they again give pause. This time, it's The Prince who stops. 

"You never deserved any of it, you know that don't you?" For the first time in a long time, her tone is completely devoid of inflection. The Prince looks through the window to the passengers, while Clementine wonders if she can already see her brother, but doubts it, "neither did he, but at least he was family." 

And without elaboration, she steps forwards and into the carriage. Much slower, Clementine trails behind. She's not quite sure why she doesn't warn The Prince of her brother's state, perhaps to shock the girl, to see if her brother's death could genuinely rattle her, or perhaps a small part of her believes it would have been unnecessary, that she somehow already knew. 

She watches from several feet away as The Prince approaches her brother, expression unreadable. There's a moment, a single brief look that The Prince shoots to her bodyguard, the closest to hesitation that Clementine had ever seen from her, before she leaned in to get a proper look. Lifting his glass, Clementine can see he's still bleeding despite her earlier efforts to clean him, not that it mattered. Despite all the resentment she held towards him, she still flinches when The Prince spits on his corpse in disdain.

The silence between them as they head back is somehow the tensest Clementine has experienced in a long while. The Prince does not seem rattled, though she does seem somehow affected, though in what way that is Clementine can't begin to fathom. This time when she sees Lemon approaching, there's enough time for her to fit into the little cubical with The Prince herself. It's the second time she's been trapped in one of these bathrooms with another individual with probably malicious intent, yet somehow being here with The Prince was infinitely worse than her argument with Tangerine.

"You couldn't save him either," The Prince tells her coldly after several long moments of silence.

"Boomslang venom kills within thirty seconds," still, Clementine's tone does have notes of apology, not that the girl across from her much cared for them.

"How do you know that yet seemingly nothing useful?"

"I," Clementine gave pause, considering whether she should really be telling The Prince this, but figured that there was a chance it wouldn't matter after today finally ended, "hired a contractor once who used -"

"You couldn't save him if you tried," already bored of Clementine's explanation, The Prince cuts her off with a sneer and roll of her eyes. Then, cruelty bleeding through her tone, her lip curled as she looked over Clementine's attire, "you look like a joke." Biting back her retort that this is how The Prince insisted she had dressed, Clementine lets the girl have this moment over her; clearly she wanted to appear unscathed after confronting her dead brother. But he was still her family.

"I'll find some pants on the way back," Clementine concedes with a murmur, looking away from the girl, trying to give her the barest amount of privacy despite the space they were cramped in. Some of the tension in the The Prince's shoulders that had developed back in carriage three eased. It takes a few more moments before the telltale knock and Lemon's voice tentatively greeting the occupants of the bathroom. Lowering her voice and speaking Japanese, she tells him that it's occupied. After he apologises, she waits another quiet minute before letting them both out.

As promised, when they get to the next set of luggage racks just before they find themselves back at first class, Clementine puts her morals aside to find a pair of pants. Unfortunately, while her wording could have been kinder, The Prince had a point.

"I am curious," The Prince leans against the wall with her arms crossed as Clementine carefully picks the lock on a piece of luggage, "did you ever catch yourself actually caring about him?" And Clementine goes very still.

"In the beginning," she says softly, "I did care about whether he lived or died for more than just my own sake." Silence spills out between them as The Prince ruminates on Clementine's delicate answer. Clementine's not sure where her next words come from, unable to look at The Prince in these surprisingly honest moments. When she speaks, it's quiet enough that The Prince has to step forward, and she's switched to Russian, "when he was my priority, he was my everything," she admits, "and when he wasn't, I had once considered there to be no-one closer to me. I could have loved him, but he never saw me as a person," flicking a sharp look to The Prince, her voice turns sharp on the last few words, and knows without having to spell it out that The Prince understands; I know that you don't either.

"Can I ask you something, fruit fly?" It's not a real question, and the shift in both tone and language is almost jarring, like she was trying to dismiss Clementine's admission entirely, which was, of course, completely standard for The Prince in times like these. Still, Clementine nods, keeps her expression neutral as she's elbow deep in someone else's luggage, finally finding an appropriately sized pair of beige slacks.

"Knowing what you know now, what my father makes you do, how he'd make you my brother's babysitter and all that would entail," The Prince regards Clementine with this kind of scientific curiosity that she usually reserved for when she made Clementine 'test' her 'self defence' weapons, and Clementine steps towards the door to the previous carriage, "would you go back and keep your nose out of my family's business?" It's that same curious but disconnected tone, but the wording catches Clementine by surprise. Looking back at her charge she can see the malice in the girl's eyes despite her deceptively sweet expression.

"No."

For just a second The Prince's expression appears to twist involuntarily furious, betraying her.

"Of course not," almost as if to herself, sounding genuinely frustrated. Then, after a moment, as Clementine disappears through first class to the bar cart she hoped would have remained undisturbed, "why not?" Still sounding irate, The Prince picks up her pace to catch up to Clementine, snapping at her loud enough that one of the few remaining patrons in first class glared at her pointedly.

Once in the bar cart, Clementine turns on the young woman.

"Why does it matter?"

As if realising that she'd had something of an emotional outbursts, The Prince schools her expression and posture into something that reads as otherwise unaffected.

"It doesn't," she shrugs, looking away, her gaze landing on The Wolf still propped up in the corner. Clementine knows her well enough to know The Prince was still both curious and furious.

"It matters to you, Malen'kiy Prints," Clementine pushes, unable to help the faint, triumphant smirk, "don't ever forget that I could have been family; you should be glad I never married your brother -"

"I wish you had!" The Prince snaps, "I wish he'd bought you like he wanted and kept you far, far away from me for the rest of your tragic little life. You could have just pissed off to be his little lapdog you wouldn't keep ruining everything in our lives, you- you- you selfish, little Scorpion! You ruin everything you touch!"

After a long, shocked silence, Clementine takes a deep breath and starts stepping out of her shoes. The Prince let's out a shrill, frustrated noise, stalking over to one of the free lounges, throwing herself onto it, slouched down, scowling, altogether unladylike, a sharp change from the carefully calm composure she carried herself with most other times.

As she's putting on the pants beneath her skirt, Clementine's voice is the only sound other than the quiet hum of the train.

"Is this about your mother?" Clementine switches to Russian once, and The Prince turns her furious scowl upon her bodyguard.

"Of course it's about my mother, Scorpion," she spits back, initially matching Clementine's Russian before she switches back to a contempt-filled English, "she thought you hung the stars in the sky all because my idiot brother was obsessed with you," she rolls her eyes, finally looking away, "I can't believe she let him give you Baba's ring just for you to turn him down," she scoffed, lip curling as she watched Clementine now take off her skirt with the pants secured, "and you still got her killed."

"I did everything I could I -"

"It wasn't enough," The Prince glowers, finally sitting forward and levelling a look of anger and betrayal at Clementine, "and it's all your fault."

The accusation genuinely surprises Clementine, who begins to internally panic - how had The Prince come to this conclusion? She'd been so careful. Keeping a cool head, she decides to play dumb, hoping the The Prince knew less than her accusation implied.

"It was an accident."

"You were her bodyguard, my father trusted you. She wouldn't have even been in that car if my brother hadn't got himself arrested knowing our mother would bail him out; he knew you would be with her."

"He didn't get arrested to see me -"

"Of course he did! Because he knows our mother was on his side, but you couldn't be convinced! You couldn't just let him love you, couldn't let him have you like everyone in our family wanted!"

Clementine let's her rant, watching the girl get worked up in a way that only seemed to happen around her, in just the same way that The Son could only keep his lackadaisical demeanour for so long when Clementine refused to humour him. Part of her wishes she was less adept at getting under the skin of The White Death's children; they often bottled things up, and it seemed like Clementine was the only one they felt the need to lash out at from time to time.

"If you want to blame me," Clementine says carefully, "I'm not going to stop you."

"Oh I do," The Prince says matter-of-factly, punctuating it with a humourless bark of laughter, "I think my father should have killed you and the only reason you're still alive is because he knew mother was soft on you."

"She was always good to me," Clementine agreed, "I tried everything I could to save her," she then lied, "I'm sorry I survived," she pointed out rather firmly, and The Prince pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as she regained her composure from easier. Standing, she smooths out the pleats of her skirt, taking a deep breath before she turns, expression carefully neutral.

"Come here, fruit fly," and she crooks a finger at Clementine without looking at her. Clementine fights the urge to roll her eyes at the petty power move, but takes the four steps to be beside The Prince.

Turning, The Prince steps into her space, a show of intimidation, but Clementine doesn't back down, doesn't step away.

"I don't care," she says in a dangerously quiet voice, gaze shallow as she meets Clementine's, "how many near death experiences you've supposedly survived, I don't care how resilient you are, how they say you're downright unkillable, Cockroach," she takes hold of the knot of Clementine's tie firmly, voice never wavering, threatening demeanour never dropping, "you see the second my father finally stops having a use for you, I will squash you like the bug you are. I will use everything in my power to make sure I am the one to make your actions have conveniences; I promise," she emphasises eyes going dark, "that I will be the one to make it stick."

As lucky as The Prince is, Clementine wonders if it would be enough.

The Prince tightens the tie tight enough to be uncomfortable around Clementine's neck, like a reminder of her supposed power over her bodyguard.

"Would you like me to set up a reminder in your calendar, ma'am?" Clementine's expression goes a vacant kind of pleasant, as her tone turned sweet and immediately eager to be a people pleaser.

The Prince gives her a look of utter disgust.

"You're trying too hard," The Prince scoffs, stepping away, shaking out her hands as if dirty simply from being in contact with Clementine.

"Sorry, ma'am."

"Go away before you ruin this too," her lip curls.

"Your plan, ma'am?"

"Obviously."

"May I ask -"

"You absolutely may not. Go away -"

Clementine's at the door when she hears her phone go off in her purse. The Prince makes an insistent shooing gesture, but Clementine tells her that it could be her father and she relents with an eye roll.

Except it's not an unknown number, the type The White Death usually calls with. It's the number she'd so desperately hoped would still be active only an hour before.

The name Daddy❤️ lights up the screen, and Clementine is stunned enough that it takes The Prince reminding her to answer it before she does.

"Do you have a gun?" Tangerine on the other end of the line sounds exhausted and put upon all at once.

"I- no, I-" she stumbles over her words for a moment as The Prince is asking if it's her father, "I don't have a gun on me," Clementine tells him while waving a dismissive hand at The Prince, "I gave yours back."

"And I gave it to Lemon," Tangerine sighs, "it's fine if you don't have one," though it doesn't exactly sound like it from his tone, "but how quickly can you get to the front of the train?"

"Do you need a gun?" The Prince says with surprising interest.

"Why do you need a gun?" Clementine frowns, "or me?"

"Our boss has decided to send another welcoming party to make sure we're all on schedule -"

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"And you need me to -"

"Vouch for us again, yes. Consistency," after a beat he adds, "and he may or may not have threatened to kill everyone on the train if you weren't with us."

"So he knows," Clementine mutters darkly.

"Of course he does," but Tangerine simply matches her defeated tone in the moment.

"I have a gun," The Prince says nonchalantly over Clementine's shoulder, and Clementine momentarily covers the receiver to scowl at her.

"Why do you have a gun?!" She whisper-shouts.

"Excuse you I was almost murdered with it earlier today," The Prince sounds offended to have had to remind Clementine of Kimura's gun that she'd been fussing with earlier, "but you can borrow if it means you'll leave quicker."

After a moment of serious deliberation, she uncovers the receiver.

"I can get a gun."

"Brilliant," Tangerine actually breaths a sigh of relief, "hopefully we won't need it, but -"

"Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it, I guess... I still don't like guns-" Clementine hears an unfamiliar voice in the background of Tangerine's call.

"Who is that?"

"I'll explain when you get here," and he hangs up. After taking a moment to steel herself, Clementine turns to see The Prince smiling brightly at her, completely at odds with her frustrated demeanour only moments ago.

"I can get you a gun," wearing a wide, almost innocent smile.

"I have so many questions."

"And I will answer none of them, because that's not how our relationship works, fruit fly," she says, having regained that menacing, chipper attitude with which she usually walked through the world. It takes Clementine a moment for her to process the full situation before she submits to it, closing her eyes and nodding once. While she hears The Prince chuckle softly and move to the back of the carriage and it's bathroom, Clementine keeps her eyes closed. However, with the buzzing of the phone in her hands, her eyes snap back open.

Unknown.

The last damn thing she needs. 

And perhaps it's the alcohol or the onslaught of situations that would have overwhelmed a lesser person, but just for a moment her frustration escapes her.

"What?" She sighed, irate. What followed, however, was silence.

"Tone, Scorpion." The White Death's voice chills her to her core.

"I'm so sorry, sir," right as she realises her mistake she's internally berating herself, heading to the seat The Prince had recently vacated, trying her best to sound accommodating, "how can I help -"

"Your intuition has exceeded my expectations," something about his tone set her hair on end, "you are taking responsibility for both of my children." It's not a question. He knows something's wrong, of course he does; Clementine knows with absolute sincerity that he does not intend her to survive the night.

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Of course, sir, I'm just glad you thought to hire the operatives you did to get your son here."

"If my Little Prince hadn't been in your care already I would have had you retrieve him, however," the telling words sour for a moment on his tongue, "priorities."

"I understand," she muttered disdainfully, "but his," her nose wrinkled for a moment, "couriers, I guess you could call them, they're off the hook are they? You knew I'd be on this train, you knew I'd find him searching for my bonus, you knew I'd take responsibility for him from there."

("You couldn't save him either.")

"Of course my little Scorpion, after all, I'm confident you know better than to let harm befall my foolish Frog of a son."

"Of course, sir."

"Good to hear," he says slowly, really letting the moment sink in, "then I suppose if you're willing to give up your bonus, let The Twins return my briefcase to me as they initially intended, my son's care will fall squarely on you, as will the reward for his safe return; double what was promised to you in that bonus."

Despite how he's sweetening the deal, Clementine knows there's no real light for her at the end of this tunnel. But maybe, just maybe, if she could convince The Prince to hand over the briefcase, she could get it to Tangerine and Lemon. 

"Was it a test?"

"It was my way of guaranteeing you would find my son."

"So all Lemon and Tangerine need to do is give you back your case? And if anything happens to your son, it's on me?"

"Has something happened to my son?"

"No," Clementine lies easily, "but if I punch him in his foolish mouth I don't want them being punished too."

"Yours is the only head on the chopping block for my son."

Clementine is quiet for a very long moment, eyes closed as she breathed deeply. After a few beats of silence, The White Death's voice is quiet when he speaks.

"Is that all, Scorpion?" Something about it is almost - almost - concerned. Almost - almost - like he cared.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" She hears The White Death huff the faintest laugh. She takes it as permission, "did you intend for me to kill Tangerine?"

"Yes," he says after a long moment, voice completely devoid of humour, "now, then," she knows in this moment that he means back in New York, "I know what he did to you, and I know you know, Little Scorpion; what he did to you, to..." he sighs, trailing off, clearly having forgotten the name he was searching for. Hearing it all, Clementine feels like her blood is fire in her veins, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she holds the phone to her ear and tries to hold herself together. The fire beats with a demand for retribution that she could never fully forget.

"Ilyanka."

"Ilya," there's a strange tone to The White Death's voice, a darkness that appears only in his muttering of the name, "I tried to give you catharsis. You bargain with me for him, remove him from accountability for my son. I do not understand you." In this moment, though she's not sure why, she hears a familiar voice from a long time passed, the same tone, blue eyes and cruelty in the blood, it's the same confusion and disbelief at Clementine herself that The Prince had always held, even all those years ago; what is wrong with you?

"You knew," it's not a question this time, though she just hopes he can't hear the betrayal in her voice.

"Of course I knew," is said with surprising care, "and I am always sorry it happened to you, Little Scorpion."

"Of course you knew," Clementine choked out, the fire in her veins now white-hot to hear him say these things when she knew he was lying about his own involvement, and just how long he'd known. Except he reads her reaction as merely sorrow, his voice surprisingly gentle as he calls her Little Scorpion in a voice far kinder than she'd ever heard him speak to his own son.

"Can I ask you another question?" This time her shaky voice is met with silence, yet still she goes ahead, "why are you telling me this?"

"Do you not think you've earned my trust after all these years?" His tone demands an answer.

Clementine has so much blood on her hands.

"I- thank you, sir."

[pub-lius]

What in your opinion makes a good/well written history book? Can you give some examples?

i miiiight have talked about this before like 6 months ago so you might be able to find more info from me on this but idk. to answer this, im just sitting on the floor in front of my bookshelf HEJWBW

So contrary to popular belief, there are just as many factors that go into a non fiction book as a fiction book, and they all have their different styles. to make the comparisons im making, im gonna keep it between Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, Black Flags, Blue Waters by Eric Jay Dolin, Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger, The Three Lives of James Madison by Noah Feldman, and John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massey and George Washington’s Indispensable Men by Arthur S. Lefkowitz, just referring to them by their author(s)’ last name. these are all books i have on hand that ive fully read and annotated

Most history books will be in a biographical or chronological style, where they retell events relating to a person or period in order, and others will take a more narrative style, like what Kilmeade and Yaeger have done, but this is often used to enhance understanding by not constantly referring back to previous events. neither one of this is better or worse, but they open different opportunities for how the author will broach certain subjects.

this is where we get into the author. just like in fiction, the author’s opinions, biases, and preferences alter the way the book is written, mainly because they will highlight certain information that they personally believe is important, and their historical reasoning will reflect their personal biases.

the two authors that i think are most different in this respect are Feldman and Chernow. as we all know, i really don’t like Chernow, for the primary reason that his evidence is contradictory and his theories tend to be misogynistic. the contradictions in his book make it hard to take anything he says at face value and it eliminates all chance of his book being easy to read, along with the fact that he is very wordy.

when it comes to Feldman, his biography of James Madison is a lot shorter than anything Chernow has ever touched with a pen, even though Madison lived a great deal longer than Hamilton. this is because Feldman utilizes brevity more in his writing. the thesis of his book is in the title: that Madison’s life can be broken down into three sections, and he spends the book proving that while also describing his life. this book is therefore more academically reliable, but also easier to read and more trustworthy. he also uses sources for each one of his claims and chernow just pulls things out of his ass but thats neither here nor there.

speaking of sources, when you’re buying a book, flip through the index and see if they have both primary and secondary sources listed. they almost always do, but it’s important to make sure. don’t trust a book with no primary sources. there also should be a LARGE index, like enough that when you separate it from the rest of the book you’re like “oh! i dont have as much to read as i thought i did!” not only does this give you hope that you might have a life outside of this book, it shows that the book has been thoroughly and adequately researched

another factor is how much information is in the book. this has less to do with how long it is and more about the subject matter along with the length. for example, Dolin’s book is about pirates, which are largely very obscure historical figures, so you can infer that the book will be less about the individuals and more about the time period, being the Golden Age of Priacy. and it is! and there’s nothing wrong with that, its just going to give you less information on the individuals.

now when it comes to a book like Massey’s, it seems like an adequate length for a biography of one person. however i think a larger issue with Massey’s book is that he doesn’t give you the full picture of a lot of things, and that is my biggest gripe with this book. he doesn’t give the reader a lot of wiggle room when it comes to making their own theories, because he tends to state his opinion first and give minimal evidence afterwards.

im always on here ranting and raving about how good of a job Lefkowitz did, but he doesn’t really fit the criteria ive mentioned here. his book isn’t in formal writing (which isn’t a requirement but i prefer it), he leaves out a lot of details, and his book is pretty lengthy. however i think he can really be praised for just easiness to read. the truth is, history is boring, and its hard to find authors who don’t make it worse. Lefkowiz’s book is well sourced and well written and does give a really good picture of the time period and a good starting point for further research, and that is how you become my favorite book and my most frequent recommendation

its always gonna depend on your personal preferences and biases. studying history isn’t about getting rid of your biases, and more of using them as a tool or at the very least factoring them into your research. my biggest tip: just keep reading! find what you like and what you don’t bc im still doing that. get nitpicky. get funky with it. GO TO THE LIBRARY‼️

and remember kids, Ron Chernow meets his maker when he encounters me in the Denny’s Parking lot, bare fisted and ready to throw down. you can’t outrun destiny, Ron.

(for legal reasons, that’s a joke)

[ithisatanytime]

Charli XCX & Troye Sivan - 1999 [Official Video]

 im gonna try to give a couple more examples to clear up and hopefully summarize my point on mass shootings but well see how it goes

 first scenario, imagine the united states racial demographics were more like 99 percent jewish and one percent white, so basically an inversion of the racial demographics prior to unchecked immigration from mexico and ignoring blacks for simplicities sake. this may come as a shock to you, but i dont really feel personal predjudice against your average jew, and in fact i get along better and identify with them a little easier because im nuerotic and intellectual and a film buff etc. however if in that scenario i was the only white man in a school comprised entirely of jews and i either didnt realize i was jewish or didnt understand the extant of the difference between our two peoples, i might be tempted to do a mass shooting! why dont i have any friends? why am i so different? why are these guys such massive fucking perverts i mean i get horny too but im not gonna straight up grab some chicks ass on the back of the bus and make her cry just because shes there and i might get away with it! and likewise my jewish peers might wonder why im so prone to violent confrontation, why i care so little about money or academic accolades etc. now if i were say a chinese foriegn nationals son named ping attending this school, many of those same challenges would be remain but the source of the discomfort would be obvious to all and wed work a little harder to bridge the gap, when the difference between two peoples SEEMS either nonexistant or subtle but is in fact a wide gulf, and the reason isnt clear, you start running into serious issues. in that scenario im the same man i am now, and over all, im proud of the choices ive made, not all but on the whole im glad for the man i ended up being, but in that scenario i would be convinced that there was something DEEPLY DEEPLY wrong with me, after all its not allll the other students who are wrong and IM right, but then what? what human could just decide that happiness was never for them, comfort was never for them, and the literal torture they are subjected to by their peers are their own fault and they deserve it? no one will do this, no one does this. in this scenario suicide is the OBVIOUS answer, but if you have your heart set on dying you have nothing really to lose, so why not take out your tormenters who are alien to you to the degree that you cant even see them as human and they feel much the same way about you.

 the other scenario hopefully will be brief and parts of it arent gonna make a lot of sense, but if you get it you will much better understand the underlying point.

 pretend its the vietnam war still, white europeans are killing south east asians, and sure there were some vietnamese and blacks fighting on the americans side and some whites on the other, but almost every war is fought along ethnic lines and this is not a coincidence but the true purpose of war, it is the survival of the fittest competition when applied to highly social animals like us. imagine in this scenario the united states somehow transported american teenagers into vietnamese schools, but outwardly they looked vietnamese and had artificial vietnamese memories implanted to better fit it (LOOK I TOLD YOU IT WAS A SLOPPY METAPHOR JUST BEAR WITH ME) suppose one of these american sleeper cells just couldnt fit in with their peers, even though outwardly they were vietnamese inwardly they werent and they felt no kinship with these south east asian people beyond the most base layer of politeness. in his isolation, and inability to understand anyone around him, he snaps and shoots up his vietnamese school... mission accomplished?

 i know thats confusing as hell, but what im getting at is these jew mass shooters arent doing anything that warriors havent done to neighboring tribes since the beginning of time, the difference is we had the genius idea of jumbling all these peoples up within the same border, under the same roof, almost like sharing a bed with a complete stranger. the conflict that arises is not just inevitable but benificial for the survival of the species, it IS the competition and it wont be put off for you or oprah winfrey or anyone, these are our instincts. people like klebold and harris, the tranny shooter recently, uncle ted the unabomber, even if they arent consciously aware that they are living basically alone amongst a potentially hostile foreign tribe, they know it on an intuitive level because it is instinct, and would do war from within our own borders against us.

[wizkiddx]

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crash Course - Bucky Barnes

a/n: this one? im in LOVE with this fic and im not even ashamed of it. there is just something about the MC helping him get used to living in the new century and im a sucker for it. so please enjoy this fluffy piece!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Bucky is a regular at the café where you work at and seeing him struggling with technology, you offer to help him, teaching him the basics while you are both thinking about taking it a little further than just a crash course.

masterlist

The time between the morning rush and lunch time is always quiet, the café is almost completely empty, that’s why Bucky prefers to go out during that time, tuck himself away in the corner of the small but cozy place, a black coffee steaming on the wooden table in front of him, his laptop or a book or his phone reserving his attention, whatever he decides to put his energy into that day.

Today has been a rainy day, therefore the morning was a lot quieter than usually, not many likes to make an extra trip for a coffee in the pouring rain, so you’ve been enjoying the calmness, the soft jazz music playing through the speakers as you are putting away the freshly washed cups behind the counter. As if he has an appointment, Bucky walks into the café with a laptop under his arm, his cap hiding part of his face, but you can still see the shy smile on his lips as he closes the door behind him, the little bell chiming for a second time at his arrival.

“Welcome back, the usual?” you ask as he heads to his spot.

“Yes please,” he nods, shooting you a thankful smile.

You try to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach at the sight of the man, it’s almost ridiculous how you still get nervous when you see him, even though he has been showing up every day at the same time for the past about two months. You just can’t help it, there’s just something in those ocean eyes and perfect manner he always treats you with, something you don’t often get these days. Not many take the time to ask about your day or wish you a good one after you hand them their coffee, but Bucky is different. The same question falls from his lips every time you appear at his table with his order.

“How has your day been going?” he asks when you place the cup next to his laptop that’s loading.

“Pretty quiet, the rain keeps people away,” you chuckle, hoping your blush is not as apparent as it feels. “What about yours?”

“Just the same as usual,” he smiles softly and you nod, though you have no idea what’s usual for him. He might be friendly and quite welcoming when he is sitting at the café, he often chats with you about anything and everything, yet still, you know near nothing about him and his life outside of this place. It’s clear he is the kind of person that prefers to keep things to himself, but sometimes you are so desperate for just the smallest crumb of information about him. With the lack of details, you often find yourself making up things about him, like what his favorite dish is, where he likes to shop, what shows he watches on the TV. You might be entirely wrong about all of these, but it’s all you have.

Moving back behind the counter you busy yourself with cleaning it off as Bucky’s attention shifts to the screen in front of him. There are only two more customers in there and they are quite locked away in their own world as well, a college student working on some kind of assignment on her second espresso and an old lady solving Sudoku at the table near the window, sipping on a nice latte.

You can’t help but glance in his direction every now and then as you move the muffins around on the counter. He seems deeply focused, eyebrows knitted together as he is clicking away on the computer. From the looks of it, he is solving some kind of enigma, but when you walk past his table you see that he has an email open on the screen, his cursor moving around kind of aimlessly.

“Not finding the right words?” you ask, stopping to clean the table next to his that was previously occupied by a young couple. His eyes snap up to you before he huffs shaking his head.

“No, I’m just… terribly bad at IT stuff and I’m supposed to “CC” someone on this email,” he explains, using his fingers to air-quote as he glances back at the screen. “But if I’m being honest I don’t even know what it means,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

You find it amusing, even cute that he is like an old man with these stuff. You’ve seen him struggling to type in a text message before on his flip phone that’s from the last century for sure and now this.

Placing the tray of cups down on the table you move over to him, taking the free chair next to him as you reach for the laptop, but you stop before touching it.

“May I…?”

“Go ahead,” he gestures with a nod.

You turn the device towards yourself as you click a few times, bringing up the option to send a copy of the email to another receiver.

“CC means that more people get the same email. You can put their addresses here. But you can also BCC people, in that case, the original receiver won’t see if the email was sent to others as well,” you explain patiently. Bucky tries his best to focus on the screen and what you’re saying, rather than the way your lips are moving and how badly he wants to taste them.

You haven’t been the only one feeling flustered and like a giddy teenager and Bucky didn’t choose this café as his usual spot for nothing. He spotted you the first time he stumbled in and the way you smiled brightly at everyone and the sweet chiming of your laughter made him want to come back the moment he stepped out that day. So he returned the next day and then the next day again… and now he couldn’t even imagine a day without seeing your eyes light up when he walks in while he can only hope you are just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

You help him send his email and you cheer in victory once it’s done and sent.

“See? It’s not as hard as it seems,” you smile at him gently, patting his arm that’s covered by a hoodie and your eyes fall onto his gloved hands on the tabletop.

“Yeah, I just have a lot of catching up to do from the past seven decades,” he mumbles under his breath, though he immediately regrets not keeping his mouth shut.

Your eyes flicker to his hand once again, then up to meet his gaze and he knows he just outed himself. He is expecting the usual: disgust, disappointment, even fear. That’s how most people react when they find out who he really is. But as he stares back at you, scared like a little kitten, you just smile back at him softly.

It’s not that you haven’t heard of the Avengers, because it’s impossible not to know who they are. You were just not expecting one of them to become a regular at your working place. The few times you saw him on TV he had long hair and his face was covered with a mask, so you’re not surprised you didn’t put the picture together. But knowing now who he is, you don’t see him in a worse lighting. If anything, you feel a little sad that he had to go through so much in his extremely long life.

“Well, feel free to ask any more questions. I’m not an IT guy, but I can help you with everyday stuff,” you tell him and he is in awe at your very normal, very sweet reaction. All he can do is nod as you stand from the table and grab the tray you abandoned not long ago, moving back behind the counter.

When you glance up your gaze meets his as he is still staring at you, nervous, a little anxious, but definitely relieved by your smooth reaction to finding out his identity. You shoot him a bright smile before moving to the table of the old lady who asks for another latte and as Bucky follows your frame move across the room he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips.

Your offer doesn’t stay unused. In fact, Bucky shows up at the café the next few days with a handful of questions for you, genuine ones, and a few he already knows the answer to, but wants to hear you explain them anyway. And you help him with anything, sitting at his table whenever you have a few free minutes between customers. He asks you about the internet, social media, online data bases and sources, going through a list from the little notebook he always keeps with himself.

The times spent with him are your favorite part of the day. You always look forward to whatever issue Bucky is going to bring up, fearing that one day he might run out of questions, but that just never comes. And you don’t know it, but your little sessions are the highlights of his days as well, listening to your smooth voice as you explain even the smallest things to him with so much patience, he is convinced you should become a teacher.

He thinks about asking you out every day, the question is always on the tip of his tongue.

What are you doing tonight? Would you want to go out with me? Do you want to grab a bite with me after your shift?

However he just never gets to actually say the words out loud. He is growing impatient with himself, he used to have no problem with asking girls out, but seven decades and another life as a brain-washed assassin later, this task feels way too impossible.

You’ve been telling him to get a smartphone for the past couple of days and though he seemed adamant, one day he shows up with a brand new one, still in the box.

“Oh my God, is that what I think it is?” you tease him with a dramatic gasp. Chuckling to himself he nods as he places the box to the counter while you are making the order of one of the customers. Today has been a little busier than usually, probably because of the special offer of 10% off from the new Cuban coffee beans your boss ordered in.

“I need a teacher to show me the ropes though.”

“Oh, Bucky, I would love to, but today is a bit crowded,” you pout as you put the lid onto the paper cup and hand it over to the customer, another one already walking in, eyeing the offer written on the black board behind you.

He didn’t even think you wouldn’t say yes, it never occurred to him that the timing might not be the best. You see as his smile slowly disappears from his scruffy face and your heart breaks seeing him like this.

“Yeah, sorry. Don’t want to keep you up,” he mumbles feeling defeated, but before he could grab the box from the counter, you put your hand on it, your fingers brushing against his gloved one, the tiny touch making both of you flustered.

“But how about after work?” you suggest and his eyes immediately light up. Spending time with you without any customers interrupting? That sounds like heaven to him.

“Y-you sure? If you have something to do, I—“

“Nothing to do,” you smile at him. You grab a napkin from the counter and a pan from near the cash register, quickly scribbling down your address before handing it over to him. “I’ll be home by seven,” you inform him as he glances down at your handwriting, noting how well it fits your personality. He then looks back at you nodding, as if he was just handed the best Christmas present ever.

“I’ll be there,” he smiles gratefully before stepping away from the counter and letting you work.

 Five minutes after seven, Bucky is standing at your front door with a bag of Chinese food in his hands as he is trying to build up the courage to ring your doorbell. He found out that you live just a few corners away from the café, so he found your address easily.

“Come on, dude. Don’t be such a loser,” he mumbles to himself as he circles his shoulders before finally pushing the button. A short, buzzing sound is heard from the other side of the door and he stares at the 6B sign in front of you as he hears footsteps from inside. A few moments later the door swings open and there you are, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, a bright smile adorning your face as you beam at your guest.

“Come on in!” you gesture for him as he steps into the small apartment. “Tried to clean up a bit, but if I’m being honest I’m starting to grow out this place,” you chuckle as you push a box out of the way. It’s a small studio apartment with everything cramped into one space except the bathroom. You have a double bed pushed up against the wall in the corner, a small sofa with your wardrobe next to it, a TV, a tiny coffee table, a bookshelf and a dresser, a little dining table near the kitchen with three chairs and a pantry right next to the fridge that stands where the hardwood floor changes into checkered tiles. It really is a tiny space that holds a lot of stuff, but all the gadgets and clutter makes it cozy, lived-in, a place that’s so much like you that he feels like he is peeking inside your head as he walks farther inside.

“I brought dinner,” he shyly holds the bag up as you lock the door.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” you smile at him gratefully, because you didn’t really have time to buy anything on your way home since you had to make a quick trip to the post office after your shift, leaving you no spare time before his arrival.

“It’s the least I can do for all the help,” he smiles as you take the bag from him and bring it to the designated living room area of the place. Bucky joins you on the sofa and he thanks all higher powers your place is so small that you only have a loveseat, giving him the chance to sit close to you. Your thigh brushes against his as you hand him a box and make yourself comfortable as well, starting your feast while he asks you about your day, listening to your every word intently.

When the food is gone and you’ve grabbed two beers for the two of you, he pulls out the phone that’s the reason behind his visit. He bought a simple one, not at all one of the latest versions and it’s going to be the perfect model for him to learn the ropes on.

You help him put his SIM card into the new phone and then you set his account up before finally gaining access to the phone. You start with the basic features, showing him how to make a call or send a text before moving onto the different apps and possibilities while he listens to you as if you were talking about rocket science, but in a way, it feels like that for him.

“And here you can switch to the front camera,” you explain as you push the button and suddenly, the two of you come into picture on the screen. “Perfect for taking selfies,” you add with a chuckle.

“Oh, selfies. I’m not too good with those,” he huffs shaking his head.

“Because you probably haven’t found your angle!” you smirk. “Everyone has a good angle.”

“You think so?” you knits his eyebrows together.

“Mhm, look!”

Opening the contacts you go to yours, choosing the option to add a picture that will show up on the screen when you call him, and open the camera to take one instead of choosing from the empty gallery. Holding up the phone you position it so your good angle is in the picture before snapping the photo and saving it as your caller ID.

“See?” you smile at him before handing the device back to him. He just nods, even though he can only think about how all your angles are perfect to him and that now he has a picture of you in his phone. “Let’s take one together!” you beam and moving closer to him you take the phone once again, holding it up in front of you, trying to fit both of you into the frame.

Bucky tries his best to focus on the picture, but he can’t ignore how close you are to him, he can smell your shampoo and your cheek is almost pressed against his as you smile into the camera. The corners of his mouth curl up as his eyes fix at your reflection on the screen before you snap the photo. Opening up the camera roll you take a better look at it and it’s probably your favorite photo that has ever been taken of you. Mostly because he is in it as well, smiling so sweetly.

“It’s a good one,” you say and as you turn your head to the side you realize how close you really are to him.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, definitely aware of just the few inches separating the two of you.

“I-if you had an Instagram I would tell you to post it…” you stutter as your eyes flicker down to his lips, the urge to lean in and kiss him growing with each passing second.

Feeling a little dizzy, one of your hands fall to his lower arm, the one that’s made out of metal and your gaze drops to where you are touching him, a panic filled look flashing through his eyes.

He thinks that this is where the moment is ruined, where you realize the monster he really is and decide you don’t want anything to do with him. He almost starts to apologize for God knows what reason when you reach out and your fingers start to work on the straps of his gloves. It takes a few moments for him to realize what you are doing, and he tries to pull his hand back, but you grab it stopping him from doing it.

“It’s alright,” you smile at him softly, your eyes meeting his as you finish what you started and pull the glove off his hand revealing the metal underneath the leather. Then you move onto his other hand and do the same, dropping the pair of gloves to the floor as you take both his hands in yours, thumbs running across his knuckles, feeling the difference between his own hand and the artificial one.

You see his jaw flexing at the touch and reaching up you cup his cheek in your palm, making him to look you in the eyes. The strong and confident man you see sometimes is gone now, fear and hesitation taking over his expression as your other hand keeps holding his vibranium one.

“I’m sorry,” it falls from his lips as he closes his eyes for a second.

“For what exactly?” you ask with a soft chuckle. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t have to hide yourself around me.”

“You don’t find it… scary?”

“Not at all,” you assure him. “You can’t be held accountable for what happened to you. Anyone who thinks differently is just an ignorant asshole,” you add grinning and it finally breaks his fearful expression, planting a smile on his handsome face.

Keeping your hand on his cheek you lean closer, your nose touching his but you stop before your lips could meet, giving him the chance to pull back. But he never does. Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours, finally making the fantasy you both have been daydreaming about reality. He starts off slowly, savoring each other gently, getting accustomed to the feeling, but it doesn’t take long before the kiss grows hungrier and your tongues meet in the middle.

Your hands rest at the base of his neck while his find your waist, pulling you closer until you swing a leg over him, sitting on his lap as you smile against his lips. His kisses feel delicate and soft yet very passionate at the same time, you love the dynamic you create, tugging and biting each other playfully, it feels like kissing him is the sole purpose of your life.

When it gets hard for you to breathe you pull back, eyes opening and finding his flushed face as he stares back at you with bright, joyous eyes, his lips slightly swollen, already making you want to go back to where you were just a moment ago.

“Who knew selfies could be so much fun,” he jokes making you laugh, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sound that’s so dear to him.

“I’m glad you liked my crash course on smart phones,” you grin down at him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “Do you have any more questions?”

Smirking his hand, his flesh one, moves up your back as he presses you closer, your lips almost touching his.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” he chuckles before kissing you again eagerly.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[seabass17]

All that’s left | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is my first time writing something based on a video I found on TikTok, it’s not exactly the same, but it is kinda the idea. I hope you like it and please let me know if you might want a part two. Also, I apologize if you find some errors, im doing my best since English is not my first language. Anyway, happy reading!!

All that’s left masterlist

Pt. 2

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries (broken ribs, cuts, dislocated shoulder)

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: She still can’t get used to the feeling of being left behind by the people she once called family. After being hurt, she decides that she will give them a chance, and when they failed, she then makes the decision to disappear and start brand new. Of course, she leaves a letter that will left the team standing in the dark, and with more questions than answers about a lot of things, while discovering that she has more of one past that she let to know.

The sound of the rain hitting against the window of my living room was the only thing that could be heard in the silence of my apartment. I looked over my desk where the paper is waiting for me to pick up the pen and get this over with, but somehow, somewhere deep inside of me, a part is waiting, holding on to the smallest of hope that maybe, just maybe, he is going to come knocking to my door asking why the i haven’t showed up to the compound for the last three days, or why i didn’t text nor call the rest of the team. I wanted to see if they would notice my absence so I left the compound on Thursday. I got the answer to my question when Sunday arrived and my inbox was clear; no one noticed. Today is Tuesday, my apartment is thirteen minutes away, fifthteen if you literally fly or speed up, but still, no one came or text.

To be honest, I'm not surprised, that doesn’t mean it hurts less though. I know i should probably think this through instead of making the impulse decision of grabbing my things and get the hell out of here, going somewhere i can start fresh, somewhere i can start over and get a chance to get over all the things that happened,  find people that actually cared for me, or maybe not finding anyone at all and die alone.

I stand up from my bed and go to my desk, it’s time to get this over with. I start writing the only thing that they get to keep.

“Dear Avengers, You’re probably wondering where I am, or you just don’t care, maybe you don’t even find this. If someone from the building finds this, keep it in case they ever come looking for me; thank you. So, this is it, this is my goodbye. You should consider yourselves lucky, given the fact that none of you even deserves a goodbye because you are the ones causing it. I could tell you the reason why I'm leaving, and you know what, I will tell you. I chose to trust you. The one thing I feared the most was trusting people, but when I joined the team, I thought ‘well, maybe i can trust them, they are my team’, guess what, I was wrong. You should really look out for your teammates Stark, oh, and by the way, you might want to look deeper into why the operation that saved those 30 civilians on may 20, didn’t go south, you might even discover its the very same reason of why i didn’t showed up in the compound for a week, yeah, they were busy torturing the information out of me for a week; information that, by the way, i didn't give, hence why the operation went great. Something even more funny, is that behind every mistake, every wrong that each one of you have ever done, I’m the one that suffered the consequences. Don’t believe me? Then you might want to do your homework, because dear teammates, I’m the one you couldn’t protect. By the time you find out the things you’ve done, I will be long gone. I'm very good at disappearing, Natasha (once she figures it out) can confirm that. I wish things would be different and we could be… family, but that’s never going to happen; not anymore. As of now, there will be no record of my name ever existing, everything that once belonged to me, will be burned, and as of me, well, I am no one.”

I fold the piece of paper and put it in the envelope, once sealed, I write down the word my name in the center so they know. I take a last look at my apartment. Everything is intact, the furniture that came with it is the same as always, the only thing different is that it seems empty without all my belongings. I grabbed my luggage and exited the apartment and then went downstairs.

“Hey Richard”  I say to the man that is in the reception like I always do

“Hey miss, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm leaving, for good. If someone comes asking for me, my friends, you tell them that you haven’t seen me. Oh, I left a letter for them upstairs, could you please make sure that it gets to them? Only if the show up, do not sent it”

He looked at me a little sad and confused.

“Oh, well, you will me missed miss, I hope you find happiness and yes, i promised i will make sure they get your letter”

“Thank you Richard, for everything, oh, and this is for you” I handed him an envelope with some cash. He looked like he was about to say something about how he couldn’t accept it but I cut him off. “Please, just take it, please”. He sighs but takes the envelope.

“Thank you miss…”

I smiled at him and then turned around to grab a cab. I'm supposed to be in the airport in 30 minutes. Once in the airport, the only thing left is to start again, be someone brand new.

*3rd person POV*

Friday morning was a little colder than usual in the avengers compound, everyone on the team was up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Everything was normal, until someone noticed that someone was missing.

“Hey guys” Bucky said right before taking a bite of the pancakes Wanda made earlier for everyone. “Have any of you seen y/n?”

The team stayed quiet, realizing that they haven’t seen her for quite a while, not until Barnes brought it up.

“Uh… maybe she took a trip?” Steve broke the silence while the rest started thinking when was the last time they had seen her.

“No, she was here when we arrived from the Jersey mission, it must have been like what, two days, maybe three?” Tony said. Bucky could feel his insides burning and twisting.

“No… that was eight days ago” Vision intervened. The avengers felt like someone just blew up the white house. Her teammate was missing for eight days and no one even noticed. Bucky was the first one to react by getting up and running to her dorm, only to find it exactly the way it was when he last saw her. He searched her dorm looking for something out of place that could tell him that maybe you were in trouble and that he has to come save you, but he is left desperate when he doesn’t find anything.

“She’s not here, everything is intact” He informs once he is back in the kitchen.

“Everyone” Steve calls out, “get dressed, we’re going to look for her. Let’s start in her apartment”

The team leaves to change their clothes and next thing they know, they are in her building. Without saying a word to the receptionist, they all made their way up to her apartment.

“Hey! wait-” he goes unnoticed because the avengers are already on her door. Wanda knocks on the door.

“Y/n? You there?” no one responds. “Y/n come on, don’t be mad at us” Natasha says.

After a few seconds they all start to worry when the door is unlocked, and they worry even more once they see the apartment completely empty.

“What the-” Bucky says

“Where are her things?” Wanda asks to no one especifically

“Where is she?” Thor says

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says a little louder

Bucky storms out of the empty apartment and goes to the man in the reception

“What the hell happened to apartment 108, where is y/n y/l/n?” he asks with worry and anxiety in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?” the man asks the rather intimidating group of people in front of him.

“We’re the Avengers man” Peter says and the man suddenly realizes and his face changes from a confused one, to a sad one that makes the team’s stomach drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he sighs, “She left me indicated to give this to you” he hands them an envelope that looks like it's been sitting there for a while. Bucky stares at the envelope like it's some kind of nuclear weapon that if you touch it, it could kill you. Wanda notices, grabs the envelope and stares at the paper in her hands.

“When did she leave this?” She asked

“Three days ago”

“And why didn’t you send it to us?” Tony asked, getting angry at the poor man.

“Because she specifically said  to handed it to you, if you ever came looking for her”

Bucky could feel the tears in his eyes start to form.

“She said that? `Ever’?” Bucky asked almost to himself. The man slowly nodded. Natasha could feel how her stomach started burning from the guilt and the pain of not noticing that her friend was missing for eight days, little does she know that the entire team felt exactly the same.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y pull the records on the mission on may 20 and also show me the status of y/n on that time” Tony said to the AI and after a few seconds later, pictures of the building that that was about to be blown out by HYDRA with 30 civilians inside showed up. While the avengers were sitting in the conference room looking at the pictures, the AI started talking.

“Mission of may 20. Information was given that HYDRA kept 30 civilians inside the building with the intention of blowing it up with them inside. Source of the information unknown. The Avengers  came to the building and successfully rescued the civilians safely moments before the building was blown up. Agent y/n y/l/n was on an undercover mission on a HYDRA facility at the same time, the communication was lost three days before the civilians situation, and around the same time, the information about the building was given anonymously the very same day that communication with Agent y/l/n was lost; Agent y/l/n returned a week later. Medical record found, access denied”

“Override, Tony Stark” Tony said after a good couple of seconds, the pieces starting to fall in place.

“Access complete. Medical records of Agent y/l/n on may 27th. Access restrained: Agent y/l/n. She presented with several cuts all over her body, three broken ribs, a second grade concussion, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Patient refused treatment and was only given medication for the pain”

The seconds were passing and no one in the room would break the silence. The pieces were starting to fall in place, Tony felt nauseous. He yelled at her for being irresponsible for staying a little longer than she should have in the undercover mission, given the fact that she checked in on june 10th, meaning that she waited two weeks for her injuries to heal enough so that he could yell at her for not being good enough. He fell down to his chair, feeling like if he stayed up, he might throw up.

“She was the one that gave us the information about the building” Sam broke the silence. “She was the one that got tortured, and still managed to pass through the data so that we, could be the heroes while she was the one that got beaten up”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” Natasha asked the AI, and it responded after a few seconds.

“No information found”

Natasha frowned, Bucky looked up to the screen to see the red sentence. It only made him want to scream more.

“What does ‘no information found’ mean?” Bucky asked on the edge of falling apart.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y” Steve called

“No information available” it said this time.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, look for y/n y/l/n” Tony said, thinking maybe he needed to check what was wrong with the AI.

“No records found for y/n y/l/n”

“Detail,” Stark said.

The AI showed what it said before, there was no record of her name, it was like it never existed. No phone number, no mail address, no nothing, just a little picture of an abandoned building or mansion somewhere in the world.

“Wait” Natasha said, “I know that building, F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a close up on that picture”

“What is it?” Wanda asked

“It was where The Red Room used to operate” tha AI responded

“Why does it appear related to her?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer

“The picture was taken when a girl escaped The Red Room in 2002, she eliminated four people on the way, the age or who it was is still unknown” the AI responded.

“Oh god…” Natasha whispered but Bucky manage it to hear it

“Natasha, what is it?” he asked

“2002, that’s three years after i managed to escape, there was a girl, we were some sort of friends, i promised that i was going to get us out of here, but i couldn’t take her with me so i left her. Two years later I contacted someone on the inside so that I could get to her and plan her escape, but she was angry at me and said that she was fine, a year later she did escape, killing four people on her way” Natasha explained. Everything makes sense now, why she looked familiar, why she had exactly the same skills as Natasha. The team noticed it too, but they assumed it was because she had trained very hard to be an avenger.

“What was her name?” Vision asked.

“Eliza” Natasha said

“Wait a minute…” Bucky said, lifting her head looking at Natasha. “Was that her real name?”

“No, she didn’t wanted to say her real one” Natasha said

“Eliza, that’s y/n’s grandmother’s name” Bucky said and the room fell into a silence where you could hear the wind outside.

“In the letter…” Steve started, “She said that you could confirm that she was good at disappearing completely once you figured it out, so, does this mean that…”

“Y/n is Eliza” Natasha concluded

“She was in The Red Room” Bucky added.

“She said in her letter that all of us did her wrong,” Sam said, “how are we supposed to know what the hell we do to her? She’s been in the team for what, two and a half years? And just now we realized that she was the one that gave us the data that saved 30 people and got her tortured, and that she was trained in The Red Room like Black Widow here. What else are we missing?” he added.

“Guess there’s only one thing we can do” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“And what’s that?” Wanda asked

“We find her”

[teenyweenynightghost]

Haii!! I absolutely adore your writing and was wondering if you would be up to write something comforting with Ethan where reader is having the period from hell? Thank you ❤

Oh ho ho this should be fun

Y/n was sleeping over at Ethan’s for the first time. She had feelings for him for god knows how long, and the night he asked her out was probably the happiest she had ever been.

Their date had been unbelievable. Y/n felt as if time stopped and she was the only person on Earth along with Ethan, as cheesy as that may sound

When it started raining, they both hurried to his car and drove quickly to his place.

“God, I didn’t think the night would end like this.” Y/n chuckled, draining her hair in Ethan’s bathtub, while he was brushing his teeth next to her.

“You can sleep in one of my shirts.” Ethan mumbled, almost choking on the tooth paste

“What?”

“I said” he spit out all the paste and rinsed his mouth “you can sleep in one of my shirts.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a bit and she blushed a bit at his suggestion, before nodding sheepishly and putting her hair in a bun.

Ethan chuckled and muttered a few words Y/n didn’t quite catch, before leaving the room.

In a few moments, he came back with a large t-shirt. It was burgundy and had a logo in the middle. Ethan gave it to Y/n and left her alone to change

That night she had fallen asleep in his warm embrace, listening to the rain drops hit the windows

She felt as if it was a dream come true, and the only thought on her mind was Ethan

Luckily for her, Ethan felt the exact same way

He held her close all night, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, and dreamed of her

Ethan woke up to a slap. He opened his eyes grumpily and looked for the source of pain, only to see Y/n turned away from him, in that position all girls sleep in; the one where they have a leg up and they’re on their stomach

That’s when he saw that Y/n had started her period

There was a large, red stain seeping through her underwear and another few spots on the bedding

Damn, he shouldn’t have put on white ones

Stretching a bit and getting out of bed, he started to think about what he could do.

He didn’t know how much Y/n trusted him or how she would react to this, so the two smartest choices that he had were to either wake her up and tell her what happened, or prepare everything for when se would wake up

Eventually, he decided going for the latter.

Heading to the living room and grabbing his keys , he got in the car and drove to the nearest pharmacy around.

The man was walking down the unbearably white aisles of the pharmacy, looking for some ibuprofen and tampons

He really didn’t know what type Y/n used, and he wasn’t about to be like that dude on TikTok who asked his girlfriend what size pussy she was, so he took 4 types

Maybe different colors would mean something…or maybe scent?

He made a mental reminder to ask Y/n if they had any flavors

After searching forever, he ended up having a kilogram of pads, three types of sheet masks and a new lotion, but no pain medication

They must have been hidden

Eventually giving up, he went to the cashier and placed all the products on the register

“Tough times with the lady?” The woman asked, sending him an all-too knowing smirk

“I hope not. Speaking of which, do you happen to have any pain medication?”

Ethan left the store smirking, having received a 20% discount for being “so cute”, and he also got a small chapstick as a gift

His next stop was the grocery shop

He already knew what he needed, so the trip would be easy; Twix, KitKat, Puffy Cheetos, Aloe Drink, and A LOT of Chocolate milk

It didn’t take long for him to find everything, so he wondered around the shop for a little longer, picking up a few more things

Y/n was startled awake by some people screaming outside

She jumped out of bed and hurried to the window, only to see that they were a group of friends who were just pranking one another

She groaned and pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling a painful hotness around the area

Looking back at the bed, her heart stopped in her chest as she saw that there was a trail of blood behind her

Oh gods, her period came in the worst moment possible. Did Ethan see? Did he run away out of disgust?

She paced around the room nervously, thinking of what to do, yet ignoring the sound of running water coming from the bathroom

She shrieked when she heard a knock on the door and tried to hide the bloodied sheets as well as she could.

“Cara mia, are you awake?” Ethan’s soft voice was muffled by the door, which only made Y/n feel worse.

“No?”

She heard Ethan chuckle before seeing him enter the room. He seemed to have a reassuring look on his face, but Y/n could tell there was some pity in there too.

“Wanna come with me?” He asked her softly, taking her silky hand in his and leading her to the bathroom before she could answer

Y/n watched as he opened the door to the bathroom and led her inside. The shower was running and there were some clothes on the counter

“Get in the shower. I’ll take care of everything else.” He said, looking at Y/n so softly that her heart exploded and she burst into a fit of tears

His armed were around her in a second, comforting her as best as he could, but he truly did not know the reason why she was crying

“Baby, is everything all right? Why are you crying?” He asked her, worry written all over his face.

“Im sorry…I’m just” she sniffled a bit, shedding a few more tears, “no one ever took care of me when I was on my period and you’re being so fucking sweet and I ruined your sheets and everything is wrong and my stomach hurts and FUCK why did It have to come now we could have-“

“Woah, woah, woah, take a deep breath, dolcezza. Like that, just relax.” He interrupted her ramblings, wiping the tears off her face.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about the sheets. I’ll clean them later. We can just stay in bed all day and relax. How does that sound?”

Y/n nodded slightly against his shoulder, pulling herself away and wiping her face.

“Okay.” Her voice was still raspy, and she looked at the shower. At that moment, washing her entire body felt like an unbelievably long and exhausting process. She slumped her shoulders at the thought of it and puffed.

“Let me wash you. It’ll go by quicker.”

Y/n nodded and started taking her clothes off, too exhausted to care about Ethan’s red face. Even though he had offered, he couldn’t help but think about other circumstances in which he would get in a shower with Y/n.

Regardless, it was not the time for such things.

Once she was inside, he grabbed the shampoo and squirted some in his hand, thinking of a way to lather it on Y/n without getting wet.

“Now how are you gonna do that without ending up in the shower too, Mr Edgar?” Y/n teased, letting her head fall back as the warm water glided down her body.

While trying to find a solution, Ethan’s gaze fell on the floor, which was now filled with blood.

“Y/n are you alright?” His tone instantly changed, now being extremely worried about how much blood came out of her.

“Yeah. Why?” She followed his gaze to the ground, seeing what he was staring at. She let out a low laugh before grabbing the bottle from Ethan.

“It’s creepy, I know. You don’t have to wash me.”

“No. I said I would help and I want to. Do you mind if I join in?” He asked sheepishly, concerned about crossing any boundaries with the girl.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

The man nodded, getting out and taking his clothes off. He placed them neatly next to Y/n’s, then got back in the shower.

Y/n was facing the wall, so Ethan pressed a soft kiss to her neck from behind her.

“I bought some goodies too.”

Y/n just hummed in response, leaning against Ethan. His hands instinctively went to her shoulders and started massaging them, earning a few whimpers from Y/n

“I can give you a massage later…”

“Absolutely.”

They both chuckled a bit, before Ethan got to actually cleaning Y/n. He softly lathered the soap all over her body, letting the water wash away the bubbles.

“Okay…I’m gonna leave you alone now, considering that I don’t know how to put on a tampon.”

“Alright.” Y/n responded, blushing slightly from all the contact. She heard Ethan take a towel and dry himself off, before getting dressed and leaving.

Ethan was in the kitchen, his phone in front of him as he sat prompted against the counter

Now close your eyes, and with a deep breath, release all the pent up frustration inside of you

“Um, Ethan? You said you had food?”

The brunette jumped up and hurried to close his phone, blushing furiously as he turned towards Y/n.

“Yes, right it’s over th-“

“Were you meditating?”

“Maybe.”

“You were.” (The bitch was so horny he had to reset his mind)

“You said you wanted food.” He finally managed to switch the topic, as Y/n’s eyes lit up.

“Gimmie.” She stretched out her arms and closed her hands repetitively, beckoning for Ethan to give her the snacks.

“Alright, alright. I’ll grab a few more things and come. Just go in the bathroom and get in bed.”

Y/n pouted, but eventually followed Ethan’s instructions. She was surprised to see that he had changed the sheets and lit up a few candles. She smiled to herself before cuddling up under the blankets.

Soon enough, Ethan entered the room with some snacks and drinks, a hot pouch and some medication.

“Here is some ibuprofen, if you have cramps, and a hot pouch.”

Y/n could have moaned in pleasure when she placed the hot object on her stomach, relieving a lot of the pain.

She gulped down the pills, cuddling into Ethan, who had an arm wrapped around her and another one massaging her butt.

He nuzzled into her neck, smiling a bit and breathing in her chocolatey scent.

“Squishy.” He joked, squeezing her butt, which made Y/n erupt in a mess of giggles.

She leaned over and grabbed a cereal bar, unwrapping it smoothly before shoving it down her throat.

“Thank you so much Ethan. I really don’t know how to tell you…no one has ever done this for me before.” She whispered, twirling a strand of his hair around her finger.

“I’ll always be here when you need me. Now you just need to sleep.”

“Okay…”

A/n: so i know this isn’t particularly a head canon, but the only way I can write is if my brain thinks im writing something short with bullet points, even though it would be a normal piece If I were to remove them😂

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @electra-phoebe

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[samanthadalton]

Star Crossed Lovers (part 14)

Do my eyes deceive me???? part 14???? we did it. im so sorry its taken forever, i will try my best to be more consistent with my writing. love yall for being patient with me it means the most. thank you, thank you. 

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

warnings: angst, swearing (lots of it) 

taglist: @drmmyrs @cloud9in @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @fall3ngods @helpconfusedpersonhere @clowneryme @dopeyouth @boys-girls-i-cant-help-it-baby @vonda-b-real @uselesslesbianfr @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings @somethindarker (sorry again if ive missed anyone, if you wanna be added on this taglist or my general one just let me know 😊) 

word count: 4k (i feel like its short considering how long it took me to write but i still hope you guys enjoy) (also i didnt check for grammatical errors properly so sorry if you find any) 

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

The first steps to moving on 

“Bea please,” Poppy whispers, a repentant look creeping up to her face as she looks away from her girlfriend. “It can’t wait.” 

Bea sighs, her shoulders slumping as the last remains of her anger disseminates from her body. “Okay fine, lead the way babe.” 

Poppy stiffens that the pet name but she doesn’t let her awkwardness slip as she leads Bea to a secluded classroom, far away from prying eyes. Both her and Bea turn to look at each other, and both simultaneously open their mouths to talk. 

“I know you wanted to tell-” 

“We need to talk-” 

Both clamp their lips shut, a mutual smile playing on their lips as they look at one another. 

“You go first,” Poppy gestures towards Bea, as she moves to sit on the edge of a desk. 

Bea inhales softly, her tongue darts out licking her lips as she looks down at the ground, her face calculating. “Why does Chloe hate me?” She looks up to Poppy, her eyes boring into the strawberry blonde’s, sadness swimming inside of them, “I just don’t get what I’ve done for her to hate me.” 

Poppy sighs heavily, her eyes awkwardly darting away from Bea’s. “It’s complicated Bea.” 

“Complicated?” Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I almost just went off on Chloe after she gave her condolences for my mom dying because I just felt she wasn’t genuine and you wanna tell me it's complicated?” 

Poppy sharply inhales, contemplating for a few moments before saying, “it’s because of your mom.” 

Bea scrunches her brows up in confusion, “my mom? What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

Poppy ineptly plays with her hands, not being able to look Bea in her eyes, “at first it was just a classist thing. When you first came to Belvoire, she just wanted to make herself feel superior over you, but in the last year you’ve noticed her getting more mean right?” 

“Right.” Bea stares at Poppy, her expression emotionless. 

“Chloe’s parents have been fighting non stop recently, and it’s been affecting her a lot.” 

Bea’s brows furrow in confusion, “what does that have to do with me or my mom?” 

“Just let me explain first before you react, please.” Bea’s eyes bore into Poppy’s for a few seconds before she nods understandingly. “Her dad cheated on her mom. A lot of times actually. But he was blackmailed by one of the women he slept with.” Poppy pauses for a few seconds, “your mom.” 

Bea lets out a shaky breath, her eyes blinking in disbelief, “no, you’re lying.” 

Poppy nervously bites her bottom lip, “look Bea-” 

“How long have you known?”

Poppy’s face scrunches up in anger, “this isn’t my fault Bea. I only found out that day I went to talk to Chloe about us. Chloe made me promise not to say anything to you-” 

“Poppy! My mom OD and I don’t even know why. And now you’re telling me she was blackmailing the St James family and it doesn’t occur to you that might have had something to do with her death?” 

“They’re not the fucking mafia Bea, jesus. They were trying to settle it quietly by giving your mom some money and make her sign some stuff so she couldn't threaten them anymore.” 

The devastating ramification of Poppy’s admission hangs in the air as the two girls let the words settle into them. “Chloe really is sorry about your mom Bea, we all are.” 

Bea sighs, staring off into space, as a few tears begin to fill up in her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.” Bea begins sniffling, but Poppy makes no movement to console her girlfriend. Bea notices and her expression sobers, “so, uh what did you wanna tell me?” Bea sniffs a few more times, before looking up at Poppy, giving her a small encouraging smile. 

Poppy looks away, guilt creeping up on her face, as she tries her damndest not to catch Bea’s small smile on her face. “Bea…”. Bea carefully assesses her girlfriend’s demeanour, noticing the similar body language during when they first asked to take a break, she thinks back to the last couple of days, she had barely heard from her girlfriend, and now she’s not affectionate, even after she almost had a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway and her smile drops. “We have to break up,” Poppy says, her tone so monotone and dry as if she didn’t mean the words she was saying at all. 

“I don’t understand,” is all Bea can muster, evidently hurt by Poppy’s admission. Poppy winces slightly at Bea’s tone, finally breaking her robotic demeanour as she lets out a few sniffles. “So is that it? We have to break up,” Bea retorts mockingly, “is that all I get after all these years?” 

“Bea..” Poppy reaches out but Bea immediately takes a step back, tears flooding in her eyes. 

“No,” she holds her hands up, “I don’t get it, things are going good, or at least whatever twisted definition of good we’ve made up. Where the hell did this come from?” 

“Bea my dad-” 

“Of course! Hayden Min fucking Sinclair had something to do with this. Why do you still live under his shadow? You talk all this shit about breaking out of your father’s prison and wanting to achieve your own goals but he sucks you back in.” 

“That’s not fair Bea,” Poppy interjects, balling her hands up into fists in an attempt to subdue her trembling, “my dad has given me so much and he’s threatening to take it all away.” 

“Yeah, all you have to do is get rid of me. Me or the Min Sinclair name.” 

“Bea this is the life I have, okay I’m not like you, I’m not built like you.” 

“So what? I can grow up without a dad and now without a mom but it’s okay because I’m used to pain and disappointment?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, you have a plan, things you can achieve, I need the Min Sinclair name, I’m nothing without it.” 

“Wow.” Bea shakes her head, “So I just meant nothing?” Bea wildy throws her arms in the air, anger bubbling under the surface of her demeanour. “We’ve practically been together since we were kids. And you’re just gonna fucking throw that away? And for what? Fuck you Poppy.” 

Poppy takes half a step back, dumbfounded by Bea’s outburst. She scrunches her brows, evidently hurt, “you don’t get it Bea. Even though your mom wasn’t the best, she still supported you, even if you didn’t know about it. My dad he- my mom what would she think?” 

“Your mom? Poppy what kind of shit is your dad brainwashing you with? Your mom is dead! You have no idea how she would react to having a gay daughter, but I know she’s probably disappointed in you.” 

“Fuck you Bea.”Poppy runs out of the classroom, tears streaming down her face, leaving Bea on her own. 

“Shit,” Bea whispers to herself before throwing a bunch of punches at the wall, each more cathartic than the last until she can’t physically hold herself up anymore. Bea defeatedly slides into a chair, cradling her head in between her hands, letting the tears free fall, as reality begins setting in that she lost the one thing in the world that was her everything. Poppy Min Sinclair was her rock, the girl who she gave her heart to, the love of her life and just in a matter of moments it was over. Maybe it was too good to be true. The beautiful, perky popular rich girl and the girl who had almost nothing, complete polar opposites, it never should’ve worked. But time and time again when faced against the world they persevered so why was this time different? Poppy had chosen her namesake over the love of her life. She chose the life of glitz and glamour over the girl who gave her her entire heart. Bea feels her entire world crashing down, how much more heartbreak could she take? Was her life always going to be so hard? So full of hurt? Full of pain? She winces at the thought, her head hammering as she comes to the realisation that she understood her mother’s pain more than she thought. 

…. 

Bea hops off her bike, parking it in front of her house, as she pulls her phone out to look at the time. ‘It’s lunch time,’ she thinks to herself. After the day she had today, school wasn’t the best option for her right now. She makes her way to her front door but stops in her tracks when she realises her front door is slightly ajar. Her survival instincts kick in as she effortlessly pulls out her pocket knife, carefully pushing the door fully open. As she steps into the living room, her eyes dart to the closed door of her mother’s room, but when she hears a creaking sound coming towards her bedroom, she cautiously moves towards the source of the noise, the grip on her knife tightening. As she creeps up, she sees the door of her room half opened, a hooded figure standing by her bed with their back facing her. 

Bea stealthily sneaks up to the figure placing the knife a few inches from their throat before lowering her voice to a threatening tone, “who are you and what the fuck are you doing?” The figure gasps, dropping a bag that’s in their hands with a deafening thud before raising their hands in a sign of surrender. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” the voice whimpers out. 

“AJ?” Bea raises her eyebrows, retracting the knife from his throat while pulling down his hood with her other hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bea takes a step back while AJ scrambles grabbing the bag he just dropped moments before. When he turns to face Bea, his eyes are wide, filled with fear as he clutches the bag closely to his chest. 

“I have to go,” he says as he attempts to run out of the room, but Bea pulls him back, her face crumpled in suspicion. 

“No we’re not doing this, give me the bag now,” Bea snatches the bag out of his hands before he can protest and opens the zipper to find it filled with cash. She grits her teeth, anger settling into her features as she whips her head up to AJ, “is this my fucking money?” 

“Bea, I- I can explain-” 

“What the fuck AJ!” Bea throws the bag onto the bed, the cash spilling out as she jabs an accusing finger at AJ’s chest. “You’re stealing from me now? I haven’t seen you in god knows how long, you don’t call, text nothing. Even after everything that’s been happening in the last few weeks but you have the audacity to fucking steal from me? Money that I’ve spent years saving? Money that I’ve bussed my fucking ass off for, are you serious right now?” Bea’s voice is filled with rage as she’s practically screaming, her voice now thundering. AJ winces, guiltily averting his gaze to the ground, unable to meet Bea’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry about your mom Bea, I wanted to visit-” AJ croaks out.

“But you didn’t,” Bea interjects, her voice lowered but filled with hurt. “And now you’re taking money- I mean what is so important you had to steal from me.” 

AJ paces towards the bed, hanging his head in shame, when he speaks his voice is quiet, full of fear, “I’m in some bad shit Bea. These guys aren’t playing around.” 

“I told you not to fall into the wrong crowd, I warned you this shit would happen.” 

“Bea please, I’ll pay you back I just need it.” 

“No! What the fuck, when will you pay me back huh? This is my college money, I’m not letting you give that away to your crackhead friends.” 

“Bea please,” AJ clasps his hands together, his tone pleading, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“AJ I have too much shit on my plate right now, I can’t deal with this. You need to find something else, I can’t help you.” 

AJ’s face pales but he stands up, and makes his way towards the door, before leaving he turns to look back at Bea, “I’m sorry about everything.” 

Bea keeps her eyes trained on her bed where the money is sprawled all over the mattress, “yeah me too,��� she replies quietly. Bea hears the front door close and she collapses to the ground, letting the tears flow. 

……

A few days later, Bea sits in her dark living room, curtains shut and lights completely off as she wallows in her sadness, drinking from a bottle of cheap beer, as she stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, so drowned in her thoughts she doesn’t hear the resounding knocks on her door until she hears a voice call out, “Bea! Are you there?” 

Bea crumples her brows, forcing herself to stand as she makes her way to the door, she wearily makes her way to her front door only slightly opening the door before poking her head out. “Veronica?” Veronica gives the girl a wide smile before pushing the door more open, ushering the figure behind her into the house too, “Carter? What are you guys doing here?’ 

Veronica looks around the dark room, noticing the pile of empty beer bottles on the floor, “yikes, drinking on your own on a friday night Hughes? That’s really sad.” Carter stands near the edge of the living room, as if he’s an explorer, his eyes darting all over the living room as he assesses this new environment. 

Bea on the other hand scowls at Veronica, “what the hell do you want Veronica, I’m not in the mood.” 

Veronica frowns slightly, pouting her lips together, “we heard about you and Poppy.” 

Bea rolls her eyes, “yeah well I’m trying to forget about her.” Bea picks up her beer bottle from the ground and makes a show by exaggeratingly drinking from the bottle until it's empty. She discards the empty bottle along with the other ones before turning to look at Veronica and Carter, “so if you’ll excuse me.” 

Veronica steps towards Bea, wrapping her hand around the brunette’s arm, “we’re not here for Poppy stupid, we’re here for you.” 

Bea raises an eyebrow, “for me?” 

Veronica turns to look at Carter, beckoning him forward, Carter breaks out of reverie and clears his throat, “yeah uh, we wanted to take you to a party.” 

“A party?” Bea looks between them confused, “I’m not that interested guys.”

“Wait, wait, wait Bea,” Veronica pleads, pulling Bea closer to her, “you’ve never been to a Belvoire party and the year is almost over, we thought we should take you to at least.” 

“I don’t know guys,” Bea says skeptically, “a lot of people don’t like me.” 

“Who gives a shit? You just had your heart broken and you need to let loose.” 

Bea sighs, pulling away from Veronica, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Come on, it beats drinking in the dark on your own.” 

Bea sighs, dropping her shoulders, “what about uh Poppy?” 

“Poppy?” Veronica arches a brow, “her and Chloe are staying in tonight, she said she needed to catch up on homework or something.” 

Bea purses her lips together in thought before sighing,  “fine.” Veronica cheers, “but,” Bea over enunciates, “only for a few hours and if I don’t like it I’m going home.” 

“Okay, deal,” Veronica squeals, wrapping Bea in a big hug. Carter chuckles as Veronica gestures for him to join the hug, he awkwardly wraps his arms around the two girls, before pulling away. 

“Okay, I’ll wait in the car while you girls get ready. Just uh don’t take too long.”

Veronica playfully rolls her eyes as she Bea towards her bedroom, yelling back “thanks Carter.” Giddy, she rushes to Bea’s closest, assessing her clothes until she finds a short red dress hidden in the back. “This!” 

“No, no, no,” Bea shakes her head, pulling the dress out of the ombre-haired girl’s hands. 

“Why not? It would look so hot on you,” Veronica’s eyes trail down Bea’s body, as she sharply inhales. “Bea, you’re single and sexy, stop holding yourself back okay?” 

“I’m not,” Bea pushes back defensively, “I just-” she sighs heavily, “no one at Belvoire has ever seen me dressed up, I’m just- I’m nervous I guess.” 

“Then we have to show them what they’ve been missing for the last three years,” Veronica gives Bea a devilish smile as she takes the dress from Bea’s hands, sliding the dress off the hanger before handing it over to Bea. 

“Uh you gonna stay in the room?” Bea nervously wrings her hands together. 

“Why, are you offering a show?” Veronica lifts a teasing brow, noticing Bea’s cheeks redden slightly, which prompts her to let out a small laugh, “I’m kidding, don’t worry I won’t look.” Veronica makes a show of raising her hands to cover her eyes. Bea laughs as she slips out of her clothes and into the dress, she awkwardly clears her throat, grabbing Veronica’s attention. 

“Hey, uh help a girl out with her zipper?” 

“Sure,” Veronica moves to stand behind Bea, her hands ghosting around Bea’s exposed back, her breath momentarily taken away. She sturdies herself and places one of her hands on the small of the brunette’s back while the other moves towards the zipper, zipping the girl up. Bea smooths the dress down with her hands appreciating herself in the mirror, “you look gorgeous,” Veronica whispers into the shell of her ear. 

Bea’s face completely flushes red and slightly jerks at Veronica’s admission, “uhh thanks.” 

Veronica notices the awkward shift in the atmosphere, and promptly changes the subject, “so where’s your sister?” 

Bea sits in front of her mirror, a comb in her hand as she brushes her long locks, “she’s staying at a friend’s tonight.” 

“Cool,” Veronica answers back but her tone falls flat. The girls bask in the awkward silence as Bea continues to get ready but when Veronica notices Bea struggling to do her winged eyeliner she breaks the silence. “Hey do you need help?” 

Bea smiles bashfully, “yeah.” She rubs the back of her head with her hand, “sorry Poppy used to help me with my makeup.” 

“Right,” Veronica’s face slightly falls but she quickly covers it up, ushering Bea to come and sit on the bed. “Come on, I don’t bite,” Veronica bites the bottom of her lip, “unless you want me too.” Bea laughs but obliges sitting on the edge of the bed. Veronica clambers onto her lap, her thighs settling on the sides of Bea’s legs, and in response, Bea’s eyes widen in surprise but she remains glued in her spot, too shocked to move. 

“V, what are you doing?” Bea whispers, her voice attempting to come across as reprimanding but it comes out as breathy. 

“Relax, I’m just doing your eyeliner.” Veronica plucks the wand from Bea’s hand and angles herself close to the brunette’s face, as she begins drawing on the wings on Bea’s eyelids. Bea steadies herself, as she feels the heat of Veronica’s body so close to hers and when Veronica is finished with putting the finishing touches on her eyelids, she hops off Bea’s lap, making her way towards the desk, scuffling through Bea’s makeup bag before taking up her place on Bea’s lap once again. “Now I think this colour would look good on you,” 

“You don’t think it’s too much red?” 

“Oh babe, red means power, dominance, you don’t wanna be thinking about Poppy the entire night, you wanna have all eyes on you Bea Hughes.” Veronica uncaps the lipstick, her eyes burning into Bea’s lips as she carefully applies the red colour to her lips. “Perfect.” 

Bea smacks her lips together, evenly spreading the red on her lips. “Thanks V.” 

Veronica’s eyes dart to Bea’s lips, her tongue slightly running along her bottom lips before she breaks out of her reverie flashing Bea a smirk, “don’t thank me yet, thank me when you’re having the time of your life at the party.” Veronica slides off Bea’s lap, holding her hand out, “come on let’s finish up because Carter’s been waiting for a while.” Bea smiles up at Veronica, taking her hand as she lets the ombre-haired girl pull her off the bed, as they continue getting ready. 

………

Once they arrive at the party, Carter drops the girls off at the front of the huge house before telling them he will park the car. Veronica’s gaze darts to Bea, who’s nervously toying with her hands, looking up at the intimidating house, the lights blaring and as the music echoes throughout, the bass thumping in their ears. Noticing the nerves settling into her, Veronica slips into Bea's, giving her a reassuring squeeze, “hey, it’s okay, it’s just a bunch of drunk, preppy uptight teenagers, nothing you don't usually face everyday.” 

Bea lets out a small laugh, “just in a big ass house,” she jests. 

“Yeah, just in a big ass house,” she gives Bea a light squeeze as she starts pulling Bea into the house with her. Automatically, they’re met with stares and whispers, as the students look astonished at Bea, some appraising her outfit, while others are confused about her presence. “Hey, just stay with me okay?” Veronica whispers over to Bea. Bea nods, her eyes roaming the room. “I’ll get us drinks.” The ombre-haired girl gives Bea a reassuring pat on her arm and leaves her side and Bea walks into the living room, observing the difference between the vibes of the party between the north and the south. Her thoughts then move to think about Poppy, how Poppy would love going to parties in the north but Bea couldn’t find the appeal in it. Poppy. Poppy, who broke up with her. She’s interrupted from her thoughts by a tap of her shoulder, and Bea turns around to see Veronica offering her a red solo cup, Bea takes a sip and winces. 

“What the hell is this crap?” 

“Yeah for a bunch of rich kids, their taste in beer isn’t the best,” Veronica jokes, slightly nudging Bea. 

“We have way better beer in the south side.” 

“That I can agree with.” Veronica looks over to Bea who looks lost in thought, “hey what are you thinking about?” 

Bea sighs heavily, “Poppy,” she mutters. 

Veronica nods once, “right, yeah.” 

“Poppy would’ve loved a party like this, big fancy house an-” 

“Bea,” Veronica says, her tone slightly agitated, “this,” she gestures around the room, “is a no Poppy zone. That means we don’t think about Poppy, only about fun.” 

Bea nods, “fun. I can do that.” Veronica lifts her cup in the air, “what are we cheering to?” 

Veronica gives Bea a smile, “here’s to the first steps in moving on.” The girls tap their cups together before downing their drinks. “Now if we wanna get drunk, we’re gonna need a lot more of these.” 

The party is still ongoing, and Bea sits in a circle with a few girls from the volleyball team and a few of the football team and other people she doesn’t recognise while Veronica sits beside her. 

“Bea you look so pretty,” one of her teammates says. 

“Yeah Bea your makeup is literally gorgeous,” another chimes in. 

“Who knew strip tease can clean up well,” Ford jests, but Bea slumps her shoulders a little, remembering that these people are not her friends. 

Carter enters the circle slapping Ford on the head as he goes, “shut up, Hughes is cool.” Bea gives Carter a nod of appreciation before looking down at the drink in her hands. Her thoughts move a million miles a minute, but there’s a constant one stuck in her brain, Poppy.

Veronica looks over at Bea, frowning. “Hey come with me.” She stands, excusing herself from the group and Bea follows her close behind. 

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re gonna play a private game of truth or drink.” 

[hellerism]

(Regarding your jewelry post earlier) in secret good supernatural demon dean gets an ear piercing and dean gets it redone after Michael lets it close

im sorry this took so long to answer but i was inspired and ended up writing 1.2k about deans bodily autonomy as related to his earrings

---

Jimmy Novak had once described angel possession as like being chained to a comet.

With all due respect to Jimmy, Dean disagreed.

Maybe it had been like that with Castiel, who—incredible as he was—had only been a regular angel at that point. But being possessed by Michael, first and most powerful of the archangels, the leader of the Host of Heaven, was like being at the center of a perpetual supernova. Dean was exhausted from the strain, weary down to his bones. Deeper than that, even; his very atoms burned with exhaustion.

Worse than that, though, was the way he’d been trapped in his own body. Michael had kept Dean as a prisoner in his own mind, filling out his limbs with a strange presence, dressing him in clothes he hated, torturing with Dean’s hands. Killing with Dean’s hands. He’d thrashed against Michael in his head, clawed at his prison until his metaphorical fingers bled, but he was powerless against him. All he could do was watch.

Now, even with Michael gone, Dean still felt the ghost of his grace running through him, angry and burning and utterly wrong, nothing like the gentle warmth of Cas’ grace he felt whenever Cas healed him.

He stood at the mirror in the bunker’s bathroom. He’d taken a long shower and changed into familiar clothes, but the feeling of Michael still lingered. He examined his appearance in the mirror, ran his finger over the tiny scars on his earlobes where Michael had let his earring holes close. Earrings were, apparently, not Michael’s style; one of the first things he’d done after he escaped that church with Dean’s body was yank them out and throw them away.

It was a tiny thing, really, in the scheme of things, but right now, looking at his bare ears, something in his chest curled inward.

See, he’d wanted earrings growing up, wanted to look like the pretty boys in the magazines scattered around motel lobbies. But John, of course, would allow no such thing. As he got older, Dean reasoned to himself that earrings would just get in the way of hunting. Some monster would rip them out during a fight, and then he’d have to deal with injured ears on top of everything else. So he told himself.

When he’d been turned into a demon, on the other hand, free of those pesky human inhibitions, he’d walked into the nearest tattoo parlor the day after Crowley whisked him away from the bunker and left an hour later with his ears pierced. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple black stud in either ear.

Months later, when he was back in the bunker and once again human, after he’d shaved his face and trimmed his hair and started to feel like himself again, he couldn’t bring himself to take out the earrings. When was the last time he’d done something like this for himself? He liked how he looked with them in. They looked good. He looked good. Throwing them away would be a waste of a perfectly good pair of earrings, anyway. Honestly, it just made sense to keep them in.

The next morning, he’d walked into the kitchen to find Sam and Cas at the table eating breakfast. Well, Sam was eating, at least; Cas was absorbed in some book Dean didn’t recognize. They both looked up as he walked in.

“Morning. I made pancakes,” Sam said, gesturing to the platter in the middle of the table. “You feeling okay?”

“Never better,” Dean said. He almost hoped that Sam wouldn’t mention the earrings and just let him get his pancakes in peace, but then Sam’s eyes flicked to his ears.

“Those are new. You keeping them?” There was no judgment in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

Still, Dean had flooded with self-consciousness, struggling not to think of John. His hand went to his ear, his finger playing with the backing. “I mean. I don’t hate ‘em. Just seemed easier to leave ‘em in. For now.”

“They look good,” Sam assured him, and gave him a little smile, then returned to his pancakes.

Dean grabbed a plate and slid into the seat next to Cas at the table, piling pancakes onto it. As he reached for the syrup, he caught Cas staring at him.

“What?” Dean asked after a few seconds, his face growing hot, but neither of them looked away.

“Piercings suit you,” Cas had said finally, and then returned to his book.

Dean had flushed red to the tips of his ears. He finally turned away to see Sam smirking, and he had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up, grateful at least that neither of them were making a big deal of it.

So it became a normal thing, Dean wearing earrings. He bought a few different pairs of studs over the years—a gold set, a silver one, ones inlaid with tiny blue gems, but mostly he stuck to the black ones.

He loved how he looked in them. He loved the compliments he got, from both men and women. And every day that he wore them, the voice of his father in his head, the source of his shame, grew smaller and quieter.

But Michael hadn’t cared about that. Michael cared about how useful he could be as his vessel, as his sword. The Michael Sword.

Dean couldn’t stand his reflection anymore. He stormed out of the bathroom and down the hall to his room and rummaged around until he found his first aid kit, a brand-new sewing needle, and a lighter. He yanked open his nightstand drawer and paused as he looked over his few pairs of earrings. His favorites—the first pair of black studs—were long gone, thanks to Michael. So instead, he settled on a pair of small gold hoops that Claire had given him last Christmas.

She’d tried to pass it off like it was no big deal, tossing him the wrapped package and muttering something about how he couldn’t keep wearing those lame studs forever, but Dean invented that move. He knew what it had meant to her to give him something, and he treasured the earrings for that. Still, he hadn’t worn them yet. Hoops were less practical than studs; with his luck, they were bound to snag on something during a hunt, and he didn’t want to risk losing them.

But caution be damned. He was going to do this for himself. The monsters would simply have to work around him this time.

Back in the bathroom, he flicked open his lighter and held the needle over the flame to sterilize it, then wiped it clean with rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit. It occurred vaguely to him that he might want to go to a professional for this, like the first time, but he couldn’t wait that long. Besides, he could do this. He’d seen movies.

He braced his ear with an unused bar of soap, took a deep breath, and stuck the needle through his earlobe, wincing slightly at the pinch. He removed it and quickly stuck in one gold hoop, then repeated the process on the other side.

It was done in less than two minutes. Dean studied his reflection in the mirror and poked gently at the hoops, and for the first time since Michael had inexplicably left him, a real smile spread over his face.

It felt right. He looked right. He looked like Dean again. He could still feel the remnants of Michael’s grace in his veins, but it was Dean’s body. He was taking it back again, starting with a pair of gold hoop earrings.

[humbughana]

freedom.

y/n breaks up with her boyfriend, JJ Maybank. Rafe has to intervene. 

:)

warnings: none I think?

He meant well. He loved me. He was protecting me. 

I kept repeating these things to myself as I sat, looking at everyone having a good time. 

There was a party at the Boneyard tonight. Things we always looked forward to yet I had come to dread them. My boyfriend, JJ, became a different person these nights. Our usual trust and respect was out the window. 

“I’m going to get a drink.” I slapped my thighs and stood up facing everyone but, like clockwork, JJ stood up as well, “I got it.” with a tight smile. I frowned as he nudged me back down into my seat and I watched him disappear into the crowd. I looked around to my friends and no one seemed to be paying attention. 

I was going crazy, I decided. 

He didn’t trust me. Not that I had done anything to break it but he didn’t want the drama of someone looking at me for too long or causing problems with me. Didn’t want the fight, he said.

I looked around the beach seeing familiar faces, Sarah and Kie were dancing and laughing together. I sighed looking longingly at the carefree fun they were having. Pope and John B not even paying attention to them. Trust.

I must have caught Sarah’s eye because she ran up to me and grabbed my arms, “Come dance!” she giggled pulling me into her arms and out onto the makeshift dance floor. I smiled, I was with the girls, I would let loose. I deserved to have fun too. I let myself fall into the music and danced around with the two girls as we laughed before I felt an arm come around my waist, pulling me into him. 

Right as I turned around to shake the random guys hold on me JJ found me with a stranger's hands gripping my side and I froze.

“Get off her.” JJ got into the guy’s personal space and lightly shoved him off of me as I put myself in between the two ready to de-escalate the situation. 

“Relax JJ.” I pulled on his shirt when his eyes snapped back to mine and I stumbled back from the force. “I told you to stay there.” He ran his hand through his hair and I looked down as we caught the attention of a few other people. 

“I’m bored JJ! I can’t just sit in the corner everywhere we go! I can’t take it anymore.” I shrieked, beyond frustrated, “Sarah and Kie have so much fun and you expect me to sit alone!” He scoffed, making my eyes water at how little he disregarded my feelings towards this.

He stepped forward but I took one back, not ready to be put back into the cage just yet. “I don’t want to leave yet,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed at the way he handled me. “Let’s go talk somewhere quiet.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me away from the crowd. 

“No! I- I can’t do this anymore JJ!” I yanked my hand out of this grasp. 

“Fine. I didn’t want you here in the first place. You come here, looking like that, and expect me not to worry about you?” He laughed but it was anything but kind. 

“Like what, JJ?” I asked softly, looking down at my tube top and shorts.

“Like a slut, y/n” He answered without fault and I coughed out a laugh, tears leaking down my cheeks. 

“You don’t trust me,” I whispered and stepped back again as he looked cold. “I’m done, JJ” My boyfriend of 6 months scoffed again, “No you aren’t.” and reached for my arm. I jumped out of his grasp and raised my voice, “Yes I am! I don’t want anything to do with you anymore!” The mean look on his face only egged me on further, he didn’t care, he wasn’t protecting me, and he didn’t love me. 

I turned around to walk back to the main party, “So that’s it? You’re just leaving me so you can mess around with other guys, huh?” I shook my head, not looking back as I cried. 

My determination to have a good time only increased as I looked for a source of alcohol. JJ didn’t like it when I drank around strangers so that’s exactly what I would do tonight. I found the keg and walked towards it before running straight into someone. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping at my eyes and sidestepping the stranger blocking my path to freedom. 

“Woah, Woah,” He grabbed my arm and kept me in place, the freakishly tall handsome boy looking down at me was none other than Rafe Cameron. “In a hurry?” he asked, scanning my face and looking mildly entertained. 

“Yeah actually.” I looked pointedly towards the keg and he followed my line of sight, humming. “You don’t drink.” He said pointedly and I rolled my eyes. 

“I do now” I pulled my arm away ready to walk away from Rafe but he put his arm around my shoulder and led me back to his friends. 

“Well then let’s get you the good stuff.” 

It turns out the “good stuff” wasn’t good at all. Some awful concoction that Kelce threw together but it did the trick as I danced away all of my sadness and fear from earlier. 

“So where's Maybank, y/n?” Rafe asked as he watched me dance, smiling at me. I never had a problem with Rafe and his friends. I lived on Figure 8, making me a kook technically but I fit in with John B and his friends much better, that was until tonight.

“We broke up!” I yelled over the music and laughed twirling in a circle, feeling like I was floating. I caught the attention of Kelce and Topper and I finished my cup of mystery liquid. 

“I’ll be right back!” I told them and relished in the fact no one cared. No questioning no yelling. Rafe nodded and looked back at his friends, falling into another conversation. That easy. 

I stumbled around looking for Sarah to ask if I could stay the night at her house tonight. I couldn’t go home like this even though I lived close by, my parents would kill me. This was a usual thing for Sarah and me to stay together after a fun night. I spotted the girl and ran up to her, hugging her from behind as she giggled. 

“You’re drunk!” she laughed, turning around to look at me, “So are you!” I poked her cheek as we giggled like children. “Can I spend the night?” I asked, pouting.

“I’m staying at the Chateau tonight!” she frowned, “JJ didn’t tell you?”  Ah so they were all sleeping at John B’s tonight and no one knew I ended things with JJ. Perfect.

I waved her off, “No big deal!” I turned back to walk to the other side of the beach where I left Rafe when I felt an arm slide around my shoulders, “We need to get you home, y/n” it was JJ. I scowled and shoved him away, almost falling down from the alcohol. 

He rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re trashed.” he grabbed my waist impatiently and I flailed, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. 

“Get off me!” I squealed as he started walking me off the beach and a familiar voice cut in.

“Forcing girls to go home with you now, Maybank?” Rafe sneered, his eyes caught on the hand wrapped around me. JJ shoved me, unintentional or not, and I fell into the sand with a yelp. I heard the noise of flesh hitting bone and gasps through the crowd. A fight had begun and Topped reached for me, pulling me up and away from the mess. He led us to Rafe’s truck and hauled me into the passenger's seat. He looked at my knees and brushed the sand off of them. I leaned my head onto his shoulder as he stood in front of me, both waiting for Rafe.

“You okay?” Topper asked, “I hate him.” I murmured, numb from tonight. I felt nothing for the boy I thought I loved an hour ago. Topper nodded and laughed, “That makes two of us.” 

After a little while, Kelce walked back with Rafe trailing behind him looking angry but he didn’t look hurt. He said something to Topper before shutting my door and walking around to his side., “You can stay with me.” I nodded and he started the car. The drive was silent but I could feel the tension in the air. 

When he pulled up to his house I opened my mouth but before I could say anything he was out of the car and was at my door, hauling the door open and helping me out. I let him lead the way in his familiar home and into his room. 

“Im sorry,-”

“Is this a normal thing?” 

We both blurted out at the same time and I blinked in confusion.

“Does he act like that with you all the time?” Rafe looked at me so seriously I felt as if I had done something wrong. I looked down to the ground and wrung my hands together feeling embarrassed.

I stuttered under his watchful eye, “It wasn't always like this.” I kept my head down and he kneeled in front of me forcing my head to up with a finger, meeting my eyes. My cheeks warmed, “I- he was just worried about me.” I cringed at my own words knowing how false they actually were. Rafe said nothing so I continued, “ I mean, sometimes he is right.” My eyes watered and I looked away.

And then the truth came out. “I hate him.” I said evenly, tears still running down my cheeks. “He called me a slut, I never want to see him again.” My lip wobbled and Rafe pulled me into a hug, running a hand through my hair as I cried. 

“Never again, y/n.”

[votederpycausemufins]

Well, this is the last chapter of the sort of… intro part of this fic. But there is so much more to happen.

im always gonna tag @helleborusangel and then the scattered au was made by @hermitcraftheadcanons

False killed another drowned while Stress continued to fix up their base. A creeper had managed to show up and destroyed a bit of their base, and before they could fix it there was another, and then drowned were coming up from the ocean. While the two of them would have loved to move further away, even head towards spawn, but they had tried that already and it didn’t go well. Stress had gotten killed and was sent back to her spawn in the middle of the coral, leaving False to run back and help her out.

They hadn’t managed to get any beds to set spawn, as right now they weren’t even sure if beds would work since their starting spawns were messed up as well as chat bugging out and regen not working. So, because of all that they were on the island closest to the coral reef and were setting up a base there. With everything going on, they were doing pretty well, having gotten a good starter base set up and were almost at full diamond.

They hadn’t set up a nether portal just yet, prioritizing better armor. Of course, they would head in for the first time with iron armor for scouting so that they wouldn’t lose their hard work to a bad spawn, but if they were going to explore that dimension without regeneration, the more protection they had, the better. The priority after that was getting their way into a fortress and finding supplies for potions. Blaze rods, netherwart and glowstone were going to be a priority, but while it would be nice to have regeneration potions, but the pair had found melon seeds in a shipwreck, so instant health would be a much safer option.

False heard Stress call out to her, and then the fighter killed another drowned before running back into the base, the whole place now patched up and better lit than before. For the most part, it was just the essentials with the only decoration being the style of the build itself, but there was one exception, that being a small tank that held a tropical fish that had been stuck with Stress where she had first spawned.

“Well luv, do you fink we’re prepped enough to head to the nether?” Stress asked, ready to switch her armor up. “I’ve already got a portal set up that we just need to light.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Plus we might be able to find Wels and Keralis since they seem to both be in the nether.”

“Oh, Keralis is in there too?” Stress asked, taking her comm out to look at the messages.

“Well, he got killed by some piglins and also got Hot Tourist Destinations, but never actually used a portal to get to the nether.”

“Alright, well when we get through, we can look for the two of them.”

.

.

.

Keralis was once again very glad he could make stew out of the new nether fungi. While he had found a few red and brown mushrooms, he hadn’t found many and fighting hoglins in a mishmash of armor wasn’t the most appearing idea right now. There was the slight problem of it not being mushroom stew and instead some suspicious stew, and he was getting various effects from it, but some food was better than nothing at all.

The builder was glad he had at the very least spawned in the warped forest, so the most he needed to worry about were endermen and any stray piglins that wandered into the forest from the nearby wastes. And even then he had gold armor so they wouldn’t really bother him unless they saw him opening his own chests which he didn’t think was fair.

Using some bone meal he had obtained from a soul sand valley, Keralis worked on getting another crimson fungus for some more stew. Warped fungi was easy enough to get, seeing as how he was in a warped forest, but crimson was much harder. But hopefully he wouldn’t need to do that much longer.

With his supplies from the forest and nearby basalt delta, Keralis had gotten plenty of gold to trade with piglins. The mobs gave him supplies in return, and they had almost given him enough obsidian for a portal into the overworld. Where he would end up when he got to the other side, Keralis had no clue, but either way it would be better than the nether.

He sighed when the bone meal ran out and there were still no crimson fungi. If he wanted to eat later that… day? Night? Just… later on in general, he would need to either head to the crimson forest, or get more bone meal. And right now, the soul sand valley was closer.

Keralis got geared up and then started the trek to the other biome. He already had a safe path there, so he took his time to walk and not tire himself out and need food he didn’t currently have on hand. That said, he was keeping his eyes out for any trouble on the path as well as looking for any piglin he could barter with. He mistook a ziglin here or there for their unzombified counterparts, but unluckily there didn’t seem to be any normal piglin in sight.

But while his luck for piglin seemed to be low, his luck in general was not, because he was able to spot a portal on a hill in the wastes. And it wasn’t a ruined portal. Even if it had been, Keralis likely would have gone to it to see if there were any supplies he could use. But instead, this was just a lone, lit, hermit made portal.

Keralis booked it to the portal, nearly falling into a gap in the netherrack that led straight down to lava. But he was fine and no mobs were around to attack him. So he stepped into the portal and let the magic whisk him away, coming out on the other side a few moments later.

He was glad to see stone brick on the other side of the portal, something that didn’t really appear in the nether. A set of stairs was nearby and Keralis walked up them, finding a nice looking starter base sans beds, but with a small aquarium with a single fish. He moved over to a window and looked out to see the sun rising and no monsters around. He could also see the ocean and a coral reef under the water. After days in the nether, it was an amazing sight, and Keralis just sat there to take it all in. And also hopefully meet whoever built this place when they returned.

.

.

.

Scar had majorly screwed up and found himself caught in a death loop of sorts. He had accidently lost his footing while pruning some chorus plants and tumbled into the void. When he respawned, he happened to be looking right at an enderman, who promptly killed him. And then killed him again when he respawned. And then yet again. Eventually he wised up enough to keep his eyes closed tight for the next respawn, and he was left alone, but keeping his eyes closed suddenly seemed like a horrible option.

The end was already quiet enough, and other than the feeling of the endstone under his feet, Scar could have mistaken himself for floating in the void. It had been so quiet before with only the sounds of endermen, but now it was louder. Scar snapped his eyes open to look around for the source of the noise, only to get killed again, but then he was careful the second time, looking for what was making that new noise.

It sounded like whispering, but it definitely wasn’t endermen. It also sounded too close to just be something quiet in the distance like the shulkers at the end city. Feeling a little frustrated, Scar shouted, hoping whatever was making the noise would hear him and answer. “Hello?! Is anyone out there?!”

Scar couldn’t help but let a shiver go down his spine as the whispering stopped. That probably wasn’t the best sign, but at the very least whatever was making that sound could hear him. Though understanding might be a different story. “Hey, if you can, I need some help! I’m kind of stranded out here!”

Scar paused, hoping for an answer. At first none came, but just before he completely lost hope, he heard a familiar voice. “We may provide some help. You have done a number of things that we can repay you for. But that amount is still not much, and when we stop, we will stop unless you can give us more.”

Scar knew the voice of the vex. Technically he and Cub had left that behind in season six, but desperate times did call for desperate measures. The vex didn’t tell him how many times they would help him, so he knew he would need to be careful with using that help. That being said, he knew there was one thing that would definitely help. “Are you able to get me back to the overworld? Preferably somewhere safe?”

There was more whispering as the vex discussed between themselves, but after a few moments, they responded. “Unfortunately, we are unable to do that. A higher power is the reason you are here in the first place. However, there are strings we may pull to give you access to an escape.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Scar replied. While it wasn’t an immediate exit, having one on the way was still a good thing to have. “Um, well, do you know who the closest hermit to me is? Other than TFC that is, since I know he’s in the end with me.”

Scar was pretty sure that would be a good question. The closest player would likely be whoever was almost to the end themselves, or maybe they were in the stronghold. Once he knew that, he would hopefully have another request that the vex would allow and they could send a message to them for him. But instead, the vex gave him a much more unfavorable answer. “Look up.”

Scar was confused, but then carefully looked up, avoiding the gaze of any endermen. He scanned the horizon for something, anything that might show signs of a hermit, but there was nothing. His next guess was that maybe a hermit had already claimed an elytra and was flying around, so he looked further into what passed as a sky in the end. And then he saw the bright color that was Bdubs.

At first Scar wanted to smile as seeing his friend, but then he realized the man wasn’t wearing any sort of elytra and was falling fast. Without much more thought, Scar backed up and watched Bdubs get closer before he finally ran to the edge of his small island and jumped. Scar yelled Bdubs’ name as he reached for the hermit, the other man not reacting until Scar managed to grab his arm. Bdubs’ eyes shot open and he looked around in surprise before his eyes finally rested on Scar. “Scar! How did you get down here?”

“You were falling past the island I’ve been stuck on. Look!” And Scar pointed to the island which was rapidly disappearing above them.

“I thought I was just ages into the void. I lost my comm forever ago so I had no clue how far down I was. No wonder I haven’t died.”

“Yeah, well sorry that I can’t really get us out of this. But maybe you can shift yourself a bit to the side so maybe I can catch you when you respawn again.”

Bdubs chuckled, glad for some sort of hope. “Yeah. See you in a couple days.”

The two held onto each other as they continued to fall, but Bdubs watched in horror as Scar was the only one of them to take damage from the void. A few moments later, he disappeared into smoke which Bdubs tried to grab on to in vain, but a moment later, it was all gone, and he was back to falling alone.

.

.

.

TFC hid behind an obsidian pillar to catch his breath as the purple magic of the dragon’s breath was blocked by it. He was running low on health again, so he needed to be careful about getting near the dragon so she could fling him up at the right time. Without blocks, bows and arrows, ladders, or anything really, TFC just had to hope that he could reach the crystals and punch them just before dying. He had already managed to take out two, but there were still plenty to go, especially the caged ones.

There was a roar and TFC cursed as the dragon phased through the pillar and he found himself falling a moment later. He wasn’t close enough to any of the pillars with crystals to try and take them out. That was, unless he somehow managed to catch himself on the iron bars around the nearest crystal and not kill himself. But that was unlikely. He was already old and prosthetics weren’t the best for stuff like this.

So, it ended up that TFC found himself hitting the ground and respawning on the obsidian platform again. He slowly got himself to sit on the platform without managing to throw his back out and used it as some time to rest. He knew the dragon would probably find her way over to him eventually, but right now he was done with fighting.

He pulled out his communicator to check on how everyone else was doing, frowning upon seeing Scar’s many end related deaths. TFC wondered if it would have been better if Scar were the one stuck on the island instead. He could probably deal with the dragon better than him. Probably anyone could. Maybe once upon a time defeating the dragon alone was a feat he could manage, but his old bones weren’t built for that anymore.

He knew it was probably in vain, but TFC tried to send another distress message into the chat. He didn’t really have many other options for what to do, and for all he knew, it could eventually fix itself and everyone would just assume it was still broken if he didn’t check. But, with a sigh, he just got another error message. Maybe another time, that’s all TFC could hope for.

.

.

.

Etho continued to shiver in the covers of the bed he had been put in. When he respawned on top of a mountain, he was surprised to see Grian and the bots up there. Even though there weren’t any trees or animals or life whatsoever other than the other people themselves, they had somehow managed to get a bed and some food. And looking at his communicator, they had managed to somehow all keep from dying from the cold, only having a few instances of falling or even one of starvation.

Etho looked over to Grian, who was currently sitting in the snow and shivering even more than he was. The avian had their wings wrapped around himself and was rubbing his arms to keep warm. Etho had tried more than once to get out of the bed so that Grian could use it, but the bots had both insisted he use it instead.

At first, he had complained, saying he would be fine and he didn’t want Grian to deal with the cold like this. But then he watched as Grian suddenly summoned purple flames in his hands, the fire’s warmth reaching the bed at least a little. The color seemed to reflect in Grian’s eyes perfectly, his irises matching the amethyst color at the moment. At least, that was Etho’s first thought, but then he remembered Ren and Impulse’s eyes being different colors, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

“S-So, how did you g-guys get this st-stuff?” Etho chattered out, making the two bots tuck him into the cover more.

“Dad made them.” Jrum answered. “When he respawns, he’s able to use magic to make us stuff like food or this bed.”

Etho nodded, but then looked up again. “Wh-why hasn’t he tried making something to get you guys down?”

The bots didn’t immediately answer, instead looking at each other nervously. “Well, something’s been up with Dad. When we got here his wings got weird looking and then there was that thing.” And Jrum pointed to the small ice and bedrock structure Etho had spawned next to. “And then he started attacking us so we had to push him off the mountain and when he respawned he wanted us to abandon him here and then you showed up!”

“S-so in other w-words, s-something’s wrong w-with him, b-but y-you don’t kn-know what.” And the bots nodded. “W-Well, th-that sums up a l-lot of th-things going on. L-Like e-every time I r-respawn, I sh-show up n-near someone e-else.”

“Really?”

“Or s-something l-like that. I s-started out at s-spawn with Joe a-and Beef.” Etho paused to rub his arms for a bit more warmth. “When I res-spawned, I w-was in a r-ravine with Ren. H-He s-suddenly attacked m-me like your d-dad did so then I w-was in the e-end.”

“Did you find Scar or TFC?” Grum asked, surprised when Etho shook his head.

“Neither. B-Bdubs is s-stuck in the v-void and isn’t d-dying. I d-didn’t see him but I f-found his c-communicator. I d-died before I c-could find out m-more. After that was th-the desert.”

“So Iskall or XB, right? They’ve both died of dehydration so that means they have to be somewhere hot.”

“Y-yeah, probably. But I d-didn’t see anyone. J-just a l-lack of dead b-bushes.” Etho explained. “A-anyway, s-sort of at that point I r-realized I w-was a-appearing n-near other p-people, s-so I made s-something to j-jump off of t-to send me e-elsewhere.”

“Okay, where did you go next?” Jrum asked before getting an idea. “Oh! And are you able to look at coordinates when you show up there, because then you might help people who are safe figure out where those who aren’t are!”

“Y-yeah. I’ve g-got access to those. J-just haven’t taken advantage of th-that too much. I s-spawned with Imp-pulse next a-and used a-all the time I h-had to tr-try and break a block w-with him.”

“Well, he’s still dying a lot, so if you did, it doesn’t look like it helped much.” Jrum said, Grum elbowing him. “Ow! Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t say things like that. Etho is doing the best he can in a situation like this.”

“I-It’s fine. I g-get it. After th-that, I sh-showed up h-here.”

“And you have surprisingly lasted the longest up here based on the death messages.” Grum agreed. “Well, actually, it was longer when you were with Ren, but it’s getting close. You slept for a while when we first got you into the bed.”

Etho nodded. “H-How long h-has i-it been?”

The bots both looked up at the sky to look at the sun before looking back to Etho. “It’s been at least a day. We weren’t really paying attention to when you showed up. Uh… it’s sort of like… the middle of the fifth day we’ve all been stuck in this season.”

Before Etho could respond, there was a chirp and Grian started using fire to warm himself up again. Etho stared at the avian and then Grum and Jrum carefully moved Grian closer to the bed so the warmth of the fire would reach him, but not too much in case they upset Grian. “When we first got you into bed and you fell asleep, Dad got upset and attempted to attack you, so we’ve been trying to keep that from happening again.”

“Th-thanks.”

Since Etho wasn’t stuck in the snow, the cold wasn’t enough to kill him, so the bots did their best to keep him warm and fed. At the same time, they talked things out with Etho about what they could do since Etho could find people and Grian seemed to be able to get them necessary items.

Eventually, night fell and Grian forcefully got closer to curl up with the bots, each of them finding themselves pinned under one of their dad’s wings. They were worried about Etho at first, especially when Grian moved closer to the bed, but the only thing then needed to worry about was Etho’s bones accidently being crushed when Grian plopped himself onto the bed and tried to squeeze all four of them on the mattress made for one person.

Surprisingly, they all managed to get to sleep in that position, but it didn’t help advance the day forward like the first time Grian used the bed. Despite being metal, the combined body heat of Grian and Etho kept all of them warm, as well as from them just being out of the snow. Since the bots technically didn’t need to sleep, they mostly stayed awake to keep an eye on things, though taking it in shifts so they didn’t overdo it. But the night was calm, and it looked like everything was going to be fine.

And then just as the sun was coming up over the horizon, things changed. Grian got up suddenly, winding Etho and causing the bots to fall to the ground. His wings were puffed up in agitation and flames came from his hands, though his hands were over his ears, making it look like his head was on fire.

Jrum was the first to get up and go over to Grian, but the avian’s wings just swiped at the bot and kept them away. Grum tried next but just got the same result, though he was hit away at a different angle, nearly sending him off the edge of the mountain. Etho, despite having nothing except a bit of food, got up from the bed to get close to Grian, managing to dodge his wings.

By the time Etho reached Grian, he had started hyperventilating. The ninja put his hand on Grian’s shoulder and he whipped around, bright amethyst eyes staring unfocused at Etho. “C-can you t-tell m-me what’s up? What’s going on?” Grian didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes flicked over to the pillar next to them on the mountain. “That’s c-causing it? L-Let’s s-see what w-we can do a-about it.”

Etho walked over to the pillar and looked it over before trying to break the ice since he obviously could break bedrock. He was a little weak from the cold, but Etho was sure he could do this. He had done it for Impulse, and that was underwater. The thing was, he couldn’t get far before he found himself face down in the snow, a hand on the back of his head keeping it down so he couldn’t look up. With a bit of struggling, however, Etho was able to twist his head to the side and his good eye looked up at Grian.

With his voice muffled by the current situation, Etho tried to say something to Grian, not sure if he would hear or even respond. “Grian, what are you doing?”

For a moment, Grian didn’t answer, then he cocked his head to the side confused as well as gave a smile. “Oh, do you mean-?” He cut himself off by laughing. “What I'm doing is making sure you keep going. You won’t fix anything like this.” Etho tried to question what Grian meant, but there was suddenly more pressure pushing him down and preventing him from talking. “Go on now. Freeze to death. You’re only really getting that here.”

Etho was vaguely aware of the bots trying to get him to the bed and pull Grian away, but they didn’t seem to be strong enough for that. There was the clank of metal hitting together, then on stone further down. “Welcome to day five. I’ll speed us through so we can get to the good stuff.” And then Etho froze to death.

.

.

.

As the sun was rising, Joe got up with a start. Something didn’t feel right. He jumped out of bed and went looking for Beef, finding him still taking a nap in his own bed. Joe shook the other hermit awake, not wanting to be alone if his new bad feeling was dangerous at all. Beef complained a little at first, but when Joe explained further, he dragged himself out of bed and geared up.

Swords were drawn as they left the building, looking everywhere they could for danger and making sure to watch each other’s backs. Any mobs from the night were dying from the sun aside from some creepers which they took care of with a couple arrows. But other than all that, there was nothing that really stood out.

Giving up, they started back to their beds, taking a different path back, and then suddenly Joe realized what was the problem, and why he felt off the night before. “Beef, I think that’s our problem right there.”

Beef looked over to Joe, then to where Joe was pointing. Right where the main building of spawn was, or at least, where it had been. Standing in its place, towering above the other buildings, was a tower of various blocks like obsidian, bedrock, endstone, blackstone, and more. The pair moved to get a better look at the new building, finding an entrance at its base which was a few blocks above the surrounding terrain, though it had also appeared with a hill.

“Well, I think we should stop working on makin’ more shelter.” Joe spoke up after they had just stared at the tower for a few minutes. “We can make signs to tell people what’s up, but we need to gear up and find X and Grian.”

[imagineabrighterworld]

Nothin’ On You // Sero x Shy!Reader

A/N: Kinda long! But I owe Sero for taking so long on finishing this! Hope you like it! ^^

The first time you meet is for a school project

In middle school he was the cool guy that got along with pretty much everyone. At first you would hide away, which was easy with a quirk like yours. You would turn translucent and mute according to your mood, so every time you tried to muster up the courage to talk to him when he passed you by in the halls, you would completely disappear. It was a game of chance to see who was paired with who when the fated project came up, but when you were paired with Sero you almost entirely disappeared off of the face of the earth. You begin to wonder if you could escape class without being noticed when he makes his way over and plops down in the seat next to you.

"Name's Hanta Sero, what's yours?"

Your face flushes, body turning translucent for a split second before you take his hand and shake it. "It's..." Your voice fails you. Of course it had to happen now. Your quirk just had to be a two-in-one kind of deal.

Lifting a finger, you scribble your name down on a loose piece of paper and offer it to him.

He looks at the scrap of paper with curiosity. “Cute name.” He looks back to you. “Is that your quirk? The..?” He motions to his body and mouth.

You nod sagely.

He beams. "Nice to meet you."

The tension in your shoulders lessen. Grabbing your textbook and one of your notebooks made for this type of situation, you write down several questions before pointing to the textbook pages.

He reads each message, surprisingly more patient with your quirk than others. Some expected you to push past it or get over your shyness, but he went with it. It made you feel.. valid. Like your quirk wasn't a burden.

“Sounds like we'll be having a few all nighters on this one, Mr. Takeshi expects waaay too much of us if he wants this done in a week.” Sero looks at you curiously. “What do you think? We could do it at one of those 24/7 cafes nearby.”

Feeling yourself relaxing, you realize you've returned to being opaque as you nod in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

His smile brightens. "Hey, your voice is pretty cute too chica!"

This time you're glad you disappear from sight, hands covering your mouth as he laughs heartily.  

The project was an odd success

After your initial shock and shyness of being paired up with Sero, you both were a rather successful couple when it came to academics. You split the work equally and helped each other when either of you needed it. While he wasn't always the brightest, he always managed to put a smile on your face when you were studying long into the night, when your eyelids grew too heavy and your will to study lessened. When the day of the presentation came and you both took to the front of the class, it was his support that kept you from disappearing out of fright. However, now that it was over, you were surprised he still wanted to hang out with you, even if it wasn't required anymore.

“Oi, chiquita bonita! Over here!” Sero waves to you from across the classroom. He was sitting in his normal spot with his usual clique, and normally you didn't mix with them. They seemed nice, but it was always awkward when you joined him. You felt like they only tolerated you because of him.

Gathering your items, you shuffle out of your desk space and join him, blushing slightly as he scoots his seat to the side to make space for you right next to him. You could feel the burning stares of the girls surrounding him. You held on though, focusing on staying opaque, knowing he would try getting to the bottom of why you were nervous. Oh if only he knew how hated you were by his clique of girls.

“We did pretty good on the presentation didn't we?” He asks while draping an arm across the back of your chair, his body completely at ease. “Even the cabrón was impressed.”

You smack him lightly on the back of his head. You didn't know a lot of spanish, if at all, but you picked up some slang from the boy next to you. “Don't be mean Hanta, he's not all that bad.”

The girls’ hiss at your action, but Sero only laughs and tugs you closer under his arm. “Lo siento cariño. I'm sorry, but it's not my fault he has a stick up there.” He gestures upward with his middle finger.

You knew if you tried speaking, your voice would have fizzled out like a drop of water on a hot stove.

After the project you two were nearly inseparable, everyone knew you and Sero were an item (even if you both didn't see it)

“Dios mio! What did we do to earn this princesa?”

You turn around to the source of the voice, pausing on decorating the stage of the auditorium. It was Sero, you could tell immediately by his voice, but what you didn't understand was the context of his words. What was he talking about?

The confusion must have shown on your face as he moves closer and climbs onto the stage, walking up to you until he was by your side. “You're all dolled up. What's the occasion?” He holds you by the shoulders and peers behind you as well, earning a pinch on his cheek.

“It's the dance this week, remember? But the play is before, so we have to set up so it's all ready for the night. That means dress rehearsals too.” You were a part of the theatre group, an odd choice for someone who disappears when they get stage fright, but you were heavily invested in what you did. It was a passion you indulged.

“Aye, yeah I forgot about that.” Sero rubs his neck and looks at the ground, deep in thought. At least for two minutes. After the two minutes he peeks at you with a mischievous grin. ”Wanna go to the dance with me?”

To your credit, you manage to stay opaque while your heart beats wildly in its cage. “Thats a dumb way of asking me out.” You mutter while sliding down from the stage, nearly cutting yourself on one of the loose planks.

“¡Cuidado!” He holds his arms out, ready to help you down. “I don't want my date to get hurt you know?”

“I can still dance in a cast.” You brush off his concern with a rare smile. Crushes aside, you appreciated his friendship and concern.

“The fuck is this, Romeo and Juliet? Get a room!” A classmate yells from the lighting stage, laughing when you flip them the bird.

Sero joins in the laughter, leaving soon after apologizing to your classmate. Said classmate meets you in front of the stage, arms crossed and looking back and forth between you and the now closed auditorium door.

“So are you guys dating now?”

“No, we're just friends.” You rub your neck, feeling the translucency crawl up your neck. But it couldn't wipe away the smile on your face.

You gravitate towards each other

Stretching your arms in front of you, you twist your body to the right and sigh as you feel a pop. You didn't particularly like gym class but it was nice to get a good stretch.

Looking around at the field in front of you, you wave at the occasional friendly face. You had friends in this class, which made it even more bearable.

"Hola princesa!"

Sero?

Turning around you grin at the familiar face. You run to the fence blocking you in, gripping it as you watch your friend run to you. He holds your hand through the fence, a normal occurance and a habit you've grown fond of.

"What are you doing here?" You question while turning your hand in order to squeeze his, heart fluttering when you see the small tinge of pink on his cheeks.

"Just here to say hi. My next class is in E block." He peers over your shoulder. You were about the same height, somewhere around 5'4, so you relished being able to see him eye to eye (mostly) while it lasted. He grew a bit over the break of your first year. "Playing anything?"

"Volleyball." You shiver. "I'm team captain, but I suck at it." Who would you pick? Would you actually be a good leader? You feel your voice leave you as you begin to rival that of an onion skin, growing more and more invisible.

A small pinch on the back of your hand pulls you back to reality. Sero waggles a finger, tisking at you. "Don't sweat it, you'll do great." He squeezes your hand before backing up, walking backwards as he heads to class. "Just breathe princesa!"

"Got it." You whisper to yourself, waving to him as you watch him enter the building across from you.

Sadly by the end of your second year, he had grown taller, leaving you craning your neck to look at him.

When he entered U.A. you still cheered him on

Graduating middle school was tough when you split off into different schools. You knew you would keep in contact, but it was so much harder to spend time together when you didnt attend the same schools. Still, with each video chat and phone call, with each text, you showered him with all your love and support. He wanted to be a hero, and you were happy to support him with that dream!

You: Saw you on the tv, you were amazing!

Sero: thanks 😙 still lost tho 😅😅😁😁

You: Yeaaah🤔 but you still looked really cool! Still, didn't realize you were strong enough to pull that Todoroki guy that way 🧐

Sero: Im just full of surprises princesa 😘

Sero mentioned you often to his friends

You were mentioned in at least one conversation a day, it didn't matter the context, you just sort of popped up. What could he say, he loved you! You were his go to for support and someone he truly valued. Plus you weren't crazy like his classmates. 

“You keep talking about her but we've never actually seen her.” Mina leans forward on her palm as she sips at her milk tea. “You're not lying about her are you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, eliciting a laugh from Sero. 

“Course she's real.” 

Kirishima lays his head on the table of the booth they were at, looking at Sero with confusion. “Got proof? It’s not manly to lie to your friends bro.” Sure he believed in his friend, but after a year of just hearing about a special girl, it was hard to keep believing without some form of proof. 

Sero holds up a finger as he pulls out his phone. Placing it flat on the table, he pushes the power button and watches his friends faces light up as they view his lock screen. It was a picture of you.

“Woah! Who's the hot chick?” Kaminari asks excitedly as he returns from the bathroom. “Is she single?”

Sero powers off his phone before smacking a piece of tape on his friend’s mouth, surprisingly feeling a twinge of anger at his words. You were his best friend! He had to protect you!

 On the inside he knew his anger was from deeper feelings, but for now it was just from the fact that he may need to defend your innocence from his own schoolmate. You were so shy, he knew Kaminari’s flirting would be too much for you.

“Yeah, no cabrón. She's taken.”

You were there for his graduation

Needless to say, you were at his graduation! It was difficult to find him amidst the crowds of families wanting to take pictures of their children and siblings, and even some heroes wanting to say their goodbyes! You were absolutely bombarded and neigh invisible after overthinking the whole thing, so when you finally found him you were stunned into invisibility when his friends jumped you. 

“Ohmygodohmygodit'sactuallyyouuuuuu!” Mina screams as she pulls you into her, squeezing the life out of you before you can get a breath out. 

The boys were much gentler, but just as excited. Especially Kaminari.

“Hey it’s the hot girl- more like the gone girl, what's happening?” He questions as you disappear from sight, your voice completely AWOL.

Sero smacks his face as he curses his friends out. “Chingues! Give my girl some space hijos de perras!” 

Mina gives you enough space to breathe but holds you much like one would a hostage. For a hero course student, you believed that she would have done very well as a villain. 

“Nope! We get to meet this girl of yours, Tape Boy!” She looks down at you, squinting to try making out where your face would be, unknowingly glaring directly at you. “He talks about you almost nonstop yet you haven't visited us at all, how unfair is that?” Mina grins. 

You come into focus, your voice a mere squeak as you brush some hair out of your face. “A little? I should've visited..” You introduce yourself to his cadre, your name stumbling off your lips. 

“Hot and shy? What a cutie!” Kaminari hugs you from your available side where Mina wasn't holding you in a headlock. 

A whip of tape smacks the blonde and sends him reeling back to Sero who holds him in a similar hold Mina was holding you.

Your friend ruffles Kaminari's hair in a somewhat violent manner, grinning at him with threatening eyes. "Go easy on her cabrón. She's not used to so many people doting on her."

They were doting on you? You tilt your head and look at Mina who was still examining you. "I don't think I deserve to be doted on, that's not what's going on here right?"

"Of course not, but you and I are gonna have some girl time while the boys get us a spot at a restaurant! You're gonna tell us all about how you and Tape Boy here met!" She chirps excitedly, pulling Bakugou in with her free arm as he tries escaping past her.

You feel a drop of sweat as you accept your fate, watching Bakugou attempt to wrangle his way to freedom. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sero made it rather big as a hero, see, he wasn't the strongest hero but he was very popular

He had always been popular, so it made sense to you when his ranking kept going up and up until he was in the high twenties. You knew he was good at what he did, being a source of smiles even in dark times, but it always brightened your day when you heard your coworkers mention him in passing. 

“Have you heard about the hero Cellophane yet?”

“Yeah! I think I saw him around yesterday. He was eating soba with Shoto.” 

You look backwards to see the faces of your junior coworkers. They were in a different department than you, but you enjoyed chatting with them every now and then. Mostly when it came to heroes as you had somewhat of an insiders look. 

Had you forgotten to mention you were friends with Sero- Cellophane? 

You debated whether to tell them over tea one day until you heard their next words.

“He’s kind of hot isn't he?”

... Maybe you would keep the secret to yourself. 

As a hero he makes time to drop into your life, sometimes randomly 

What else was to be said? Really?

A blur flashes by your face, causing you to yelp in shock, stepping back and nearly falling onto the unforgiving pavement. Luckily, said blur created a swing of tape just in time to catch you, pulling you forward and bringing you into his arms. 

“Lo siento mi corazón! I didn't mean to make you fall.”  Sero grins at you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. He definitely meant to make you fall, you could see the mischief behind his eyes. 

“As if Hanta.” You pinch him on the cheek, a smile coming to your face when he whines. “Look I’m happy to see you but I've got to get to work on time today, no funny business.”

“No funny business?” He repeats after you, rubbing his chin in thought. “Then I guess I’ll have to escort you to make sure you get to work on time.” 

Your eyes widen as you feel his hold grow tighter and more secure as he holds you flush against him. Oh no. “Wait Sero-!” 

And just like that, you were in the air, swinging from building to building with him propelling you both forward. You attempt to scream at him but your voice is lost along the way as you hear the clicking of cameras. 

Oh god they were taking pictures.

“Niña don't worry! We’re almost there!”

 Luckily for you, you were never caught on camera. So your quirk did have some uses. 

The media was sure he had a partner 

The photos really ended up getting him in hot water as every interview he did, the topic of romance was brought up. Fans would notice he would avoid the topic of love, but on his social media he would constantly mention a girl. No one knew who this girl was, but fans and news stations were determined to wring it out of him. 

Once the red light of the on-air button was out, the reporter in front of Sero swiftly covers the mic pinned to her lapel and scoots to the edge of her seat. Sero watches in quiet amusement as the whole station becomes silent. Weird. But he knew why they grew quiet so fast. They wanted information, and if even the news anchor waiting for his time to come up stopped his boisterous laughter, it must've been important. 

“Off the record. Do you have a secret sweetheart stashed away somewhere Cellophane?”

Oh. This again. 

He stretches his arms in front of him as he runs through his normal excuses and dodges for this question. All still viable and working, but.. Maybe he could give a little hint. The media was on his ass about this after those photos were taken of him and his girl, so it was only right to clear the air right?

“Turn on the cameras. I’ll give this to you.”

You were crushed when he admitted he did have a sweetheart (of sorts) and even more so when the media suspected it to be the Stealth Hero: Invisible Girl

The media did end up getting a bit of info out of him  and when you heard about this special girl your heart couldn't help but crack under the thought of him distancing himself from you to be with her. You treasured your friendship with him, romantic or not, you didn't want it to end. Because of this fear, you are the one who starts to close yourself off.

“Chiquita, what's wrong?” Sero follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, a bowl of chocolate coated pretzels in your arms. “Are you sick? I can stop by the pharmacy for you.”

“N-No, its okay. I'm not sick..” You back up when you see his arm stretched outward, flinching when the back of his hand meets your forehead. 

He hums. “No fever.” 

You push past him, abandoning the bowl of chocolatey treats on the counter. You felt yourself becoming frustrated. Not with him, but with yourself. His opinion meant the world to you- he was your best friend! And you were letting this relationship of his get to you. How petty could you be? He did nothing wrong. In fact, you should be happy for him, finally dating his high school sweetheart.

But the thought of him dating Invisible Girl- the irony of him dating an invisible girl- was just too much for your heart to take at the moment. 

You had no way to take out this frustration. So it was reflected onto him. 

“Cariño-”

“Please!” You slam your hands on the counter, voice fading in and out as you hide your face in the collar of your turtleneck. “Please.. Just go.”

The apartment was quiet, filled with only your ragged breathing as you hold in your rampant emotions. When he leaves with a silent goodbye, you're unsure if the breaking sound surrounding you is just in your head or if something truly reached into you and tore your heart to pieces. 

He makes it very clear who that sweetheart is

Finally, he announces just who captured his heart. It was live on a jumbo screen, playing as you were out getting “groceries” for the nights dinner. 

The hollow feeling in your chest wasn't easing, and it definitely wasn't made any better when you saw the Stealth Hero on the television next to her team. Though your calves were certainly doing better with how much speed walking you would do when you passed by convenience stores with tabloids lining their windows, photos of Sero and Invisible Girl on the front. 

Work went by dreadfully slow, and lunch went by just as uneventfully as usual. You ignored the chatter of your coworkers, uninterested in what they had to say. 

After the report came out, no one was talking about the top heroes anymore. They all were focused on the potential lovers and what other secret admiring the heroes had in their ranks. If other heroes were hiding their own affairs. If the popular Cellophane could hide his romance, maybe someone like Deku or Shoto could be too. 

“We’re going out for drinks later, want to come with?” Your junior asks as she slings her purse strap over her shoulder. “Jin is paying~”

You respond with a polite smile. “No thanks. I’m going straight home.”

- - -

Going straight home was the plan, but in the end you had to make a quick trip to the nearest grocery store for dinner. Something quick, as you didn't have the energy to make something complicated. 

Which meant you ended up buying only instant ramen.

It was on your way back, crossing a busy sector when the sound of your friend on the jumbo screen caught your attention. 

“She's my corazón. Mi vida.” 

You look up at the screen, stopping in your tracks.

Sero was blushing, a shy smile on his face, but his eyes were lit up with joy. You heart pulses rapidly in your chest, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You had never seen him so flustered, it was always the other way around. 

“I’ve loved her since middle school. I never wanted to drag her into this, so I never confirmed her name- but its not Invisible Girl!” He amends quickly, looking at the reporter with a knowing look. He wags his finger, his infamous cocky smile replacing the twitterpated look from earlier. 

“Sure, she has a similar quirk, which is how those photos came to be.” He leans back in his chair. 

“You want to know her name right? I guess it wouldn't hurt to say. I’ve kept it hidden for so long, but here it is.”

And then he said it.

He said your name.

Looking directly at the screen, he smiles gently, eyes full of the warmth you've been craving ever since you were paired for that project years ago. 

“Ella es mi tesoro. She is my treasure.”

Extra: 

Racing home, you're not surprised when you find the lights on in your apartment. In fact, it only spurs you forward. 

Yanking open the unlocked door, you drop your groceries and launch yourself into Sero’s arms as he held them open for a hug. 

He was sweaty from rushing from the news station to your apartment, but neither of you were concerned about it as you laugh. You laugh at the tape still clinging to his clothes, you laugh at the ramen spilling out of your grocery bags, you laugh at your tears.

You laugh at how long it took for you both to finally admit how much you loved each other.

“Mi corazón.” He pulls back from the hug and cups your cheek, looking at you with love softened eyes. “I love you.”

Tears brim your eyes. 

You speak in the clearest voice you've ever spoken in. Skin bright and flushed pink. 

“I love you too.”

[sopeyb23-blog]

Love Language

*not my Gif

*I do not own any CM characters

Summary: reader thinks about how their relationship with Spencer  has evolved through touch!

Warnings: talk of past drug use, crying, angst i guess, but mostly fluff

word count: 2.2 K

A/N: this was pretty fun to write, it is mostly little flashback scenes and I love doing those. I did this after seeing  @veraiconcos​‘s writers challenge and thought that was super cool, all of her things are amazing so definitely check out her blog!

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer Reid's love language was never touch. I suppose the burden of all his knowledge is knowing exactly the amount of germs passed by a single touch, and which of those germs are alive, and which could get him sick, and which sickness could take root, and, well you get the point. When I first started at the BAU Spencer still seemed to me like a shy little kid. We were the same age, I like to tell him at least once a day, I'm actually a full month older than him. I think that's one of the many reasons that him and I became friends so fast. My first friend was of course, JJ. After all she is very close in age to me and Spencer, and is one of the first contacts I had with the BAU. She told me before I had met any of the team, that Spencer was, well, different. She made sure to warn me that he doesn't mean anything by his little actions of avoidness. It's just his way of keeping himself safe. This I understood. 

The first time I was formally introduced to the team was much before I joined. The interview process is understandably long, they need to know a person before just throwing them in. After all, these people spend more time together working cases then they do in their own homes. -

“Hi, i’m Y/N , the new agent here” I shook the hands of everyone on the team but Spencers, remembering what JJ had told me. To him I smiled and gave a little wave.

“The number of pathogens that can be passed from a-” Spencer after seeing me wave to him began to do just what I suspected. When confronted with an uncomfortable situation, he began to hide behind his wall of facts.

“It's actually much safer to kiss” I continued for him and the look on his face was priceless.

“Yeah, yes, exactly.” A rose colored blush crept up onto his cheeks as he smiled at me.

“Oh great, now there's two of them” Morgan laughed at us before JJ pulled them away for another case.

The first time I saw someone actually touch Reid was when they returned home from the Tobias Hankle case. It hurt me to see Spencer (now my friend of almost four months) so absolutely traumatized. He would never say this to me or anyone else for that matter, but even at the time he came home, he was still feeling the effects of the drugs he was given.-

“Here they come, here they come” Anderson walked over to me as the team approached the glass doors of the BAU. I was surprised to see that Spencer was with them. I had assumed they would have taken him straight home, or maybe to the hospital.

“Welcome back, I'm glad you're alive, Reid,”  he barely opened his eyes and nodded at me before sitting down in his desk chair. I waved JJ over to me.

“How bad?” she sighed and gave me the classic worried mom look we always tease her for.

“Very. I didn't think I would ever see him like this”

“Im so sorry JJ. do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Honestly, I don't know, but i'm going to drive him home, maybe if i'm lucky I can convince him to let me take him to the hospital. I'll call you, okay?”

It worried me even more to know that JJ too, was aware of how badly he was hurt. She turned her back to me and grabbed her coat from her office before going to Spencer's desk. From where I was standing I could just barely make out what she was saying.

“Spence, come on, let's get you out of here”

“JJ I have paperwork to do” he sounded dazed, like he wasn't really sure where he was.

“Its okay Spence, I’m sure Morgan wouldn't mind a few extra” 

She gingerly took the files from his hand and helped him sling his satchel over his shoulder. Then, it happened. As they walked out of the room he stumbled. Just a little. Barely enough for anyone else to notice, but I was watching the two of them so carefully as they left I couldn't help but take an involuntary step towards them. JJ took a firm hold of his arm, and put her other free hand on his back. I could see him flinch for just a second, and then, his body relaxed into her and he let her guide him from the room.

After that night I became a full member of the team. Spencer didn't take any time off. He never went to the hospital, although Penn, JJ, and I tried countless times to get him to. After that night when he let JJ help him, when he let her touch him, he never seemed to be overly bothered by a handshake every once and awhile. The first time I touched him was still a while after that, I think my 15th case in the field. -

“Spencer it wasn't your fault.” He looked at me through his black rimmed glasses with a sad and blank expression.

“Then why would he address it to me?”  this whole case I knew something was wrong. After Gideon had not shown the first time, JJ told me that he had resigned, but at that point Spence still hadn't told anyone about the letter.

“Because he knew that you needed to hear the news from him. Not from JJ, or me, or Hotch, or anyone else. There's nothing you could have done to convince him to stay Spence, he's even more stubborn than you are”

I paused to observe him in the dark silence of the jet. I brought my hand to his arm tentatively but when he relaxed and seemed comfortable with the touch, I gave it a little squeeze and smiled at him. -

Now, after Gideon had left I knew it. I had a crush on Spencer Reid. This came as no surprise at all to JJ or Penelope, but to me, it was quite the shock. He had now become comfortable with the little touches of assurance that I gave him often. More comfortable even than with JJ or Morgan. Sometimes I noticed he would even reciprocate the gesture. When he noticed I was tired or stressed or just having a bad day, he would put a hand on the crook of my elbow and give it a little squeeze. Just like I did that night on the jet. To other people this seems like nothing. But to me, and to him as well, this was everything. 

When Spencer stayed in Vegas to investigate his father, JJ left. JJ as Spence and I’s best friend, is always a source of comfort and a safe haven in the stormy darkness that is our lives. When she left she pulled me aside away from Spencer and put a hand on her swollen belly. -

“ Y/N , I need to take care of Spence for me, okay?” I chuckled.

“JJ, of course, what do you think I’m here to do?” she looked at me with a deadpan stare.

“That's not what I mean. You know what was happening with him after Tobias right?” I nodded, the memories of his mood flashes, and anger, and sadness all coming to the forefront of my mind.

“he‘s going to need you to make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid. Not Morgan, not Rossi, not Hotch, you. You are the only person on this team- in this world-. That he trusts right now. And you are the only person that could talk him off of that ledge.”

“I promise, JJ. I’ll keep him safe” She nodded at me but the worried expression on her face remained. -

JJ was worried for good reason as it turned out. I kept a close eye on Spencer as we looked into his past. The boys were all there to focus on the case. To solve what was in front of them. I was there more to focus on Spencer. There was one night. The night after we found his father, something in my brain just told me it was not going to be a good night for him. There was something in the coloring of his face, the way his posture was collapsed and the circles around his eyes were so dark, it told me all that I needed to know. -

I walked out into the hallway of our hotel and stopped in front of Spencer's door. The others were all asleep, and it was nearing one in the morning. But something told me that he needed my help right now. JJ’s voice in the back of my head reminded me that I needed to help him, I was the only one who could help him. I knocked three times on his door softly. I waited a minute before knocking again, with a little more force, and I heard some shuffling in the room before the door opened.

“ Y/N? What are you doing?” I walked inside the room without an invitation and sat down on the foot of his bed. The sheets were undisturbed and he was still in his work clothes though the tie was draped over a chair in the corner and his shoes were by the door.

“Talk to me” I looked up from my hands and continued.

“I don't mean, about the case, or your dad. I mean about you. I need you to convince me that you are okay”

“Who says I'm not?”  I rolled my eyes at him and gestured to the chair across from me.

“I do. And as one of your best friends, your closest colleague, and someone who likes you, a lot. I think that should mean something to you” the last part slipped out a little fast and completely without me thinking of the repercussions.

“You like me?” he gave a faint smile that I could only partially see in the dimly lit hotel room.

“Yes, but that's not the point right now, we’re talking about you not me '' I brushed off his comment but I couldn't help the smile and blush that came across on my face.

“Im struggling” his voice broke a little when he said it and it broke my heart to see him in such pain. 

I walked over to the chair he was sitting in and pulled him up by the hand.

“I'm going to hug you now. Is that okay?”

His partial nod was good enough for me. -

I got him through that night. I talked him off the ledge that JJ had warned me of. And she was right. I was the only one who could have done that. When we came back from Las Vegas, although neither of us had said a word, something changed between us. We were more than just friends now, we both knew that, but beyond that, we weren't really sure what we were. He would call me when he needed someone to talk him down, I would call him when I needed someone to talk me down. I would show up at his apartment any hour of the day to help him, and I knew that he would do the same. One of those nights when it just so happened that the both of us needed a little talking down after a hard case, I drove myself over to his apartment to find him on the couch crying.

To see him crying was something that my tired, and broken heart couldn't take. I threw myself next to him on the couch and pulled him into a hug, no questions asked.

“I needed that.” I said as soon as I lifted my head from his shoulder. 

“Me too” we were both still crying, but there was something about the atmosphere that had changed. We weren’t alone anymore. We spent hours like that, sitting there, my head on his shoulder, his arm around my back, not saying a word, just collecting ourselves as best we could. At some point in the night I looked over at the clock: 2:45 am

He looked to the clock as well and then over to me, and with a single tear streaming down his face he looked at me and said,

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” I wiped the tear from his cheek.

“You don't even need to ask”  he brought both of his hands to my cheek and pulled me into what I think is the most passionate kiss I have ever received.

That night told us both what we had become. It was no longer little arm touches or calls in the middle of the night. It was waking up to him beside me, seeing his hair ruffled from sleep and his eyes clouded by exhaustion. It was the little worried kisses he gave me in the field and the little squeal of happiness that Penelope made when I told her we were moving in together. 

When I first met Spencer I wondered to myself if he would ever be comfortable with touch. But now as his sleeping body lays next to me and instinctually pulls me in closer, I know that there was never any reason to worry. Because even before, when the most contact I would get was arm touches in the midst of a panic, it was enough. It helped me learn that although not everyone wants or shows grand gestures. There are other ways, sometimes even better ways to say, I love you.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 3 drama: Please teach me, Yamazaki-san! English translation

Special thanks to @nollatooru​ for extracting text again since there’s no way this would have been translated anytime soon since the majority of drama translations that I’ve found as videos only are near the very bottom of my to-do list.

This is my translation of the 薄桜鬼 遊戯録 隊士達の大宴会 店铺特典「教えてください山崎さん！」, the Yuugiroku 3 (too much of a hassle to look up the actual name) drama: Please teach me, Yamazaki-san!

Ended up doing a bit more research that I would have liked to translate this since the names of the positions in the Shinsengumi’s organization for spies didn’t translate well from Japanese into Chinese (huzzah for google translate and for biographies that list names in Chinese and Japanese so I was able to find the information I was looking for in English)... Also, i didn’t look up the gameplay for anything since I had to uninstall KW and EB for space when I was taking things off my damaged passport, not that it would have made much of a difference since I can’t recall a point when the “Watch” was actually voiced... so I might not really be consistent with a few things in this translation since I only did research during the latter half of this...? 

oh well. i don’t know Japanese and don’t do the editing for my subtitle videos until I compare everything to the audio later so I can claim ignorance. i suppose that’s an odd benefit of not understanding Japanese hahaha.   

Anyway, as always, my translation not be 100% accurate since I translate from Chinese. final edits will probably take a bit longer (in comparison to the other things i’m still sitting on) to do since im still debating about what im do with all the Watch-related words since I really don’t like it when the things I translate aren’t consistent....

PERSONAL RECOMMENDATION: I HIGHLY ADVISE AGAINST READING THIS AND WAITING FOR MY SUBTITLE VIDEO.

Hakuoki Shinkai Yuugiroku, Please teach me, Yamazaki-san! Drama CD

Translation by KumoriYami

Yamazaki: (I think that since there haven't been any large manhunt operations lately [reword later? tl can also mean "to hunt and arrest"], things have been quiet.)

(However, what is that guy doing/is that guy's purpose?)

The one out there, I'm not going to run.

So come out and tell me why you're spying on me.

~wind blows~

(Not planning on coming out...?)

-grips sword-

Then, I'll take the imitative to attack.

(movement in bushes)

Souma: Ah, please wait a moment!

Yamazaki: Oh. You are... Souma-kun?

(movement in bushes again) Saito: Sure enough, I was immediately found/discovered/I was detected immediately. As expected of Yamazaki.

Yamazaki: Based on just the breathing, I thought there was only one person, yet Saito-san was also still here. Exactly what are you doing?

Souma: Sorry! I didn't mean to do anything strange.

It's just that I wanted to observe Yamazaki-san work.

Yamazaki: Observe me work?

Although it's fine if you want to watch, but aren't you the Chief's page?

Saito: I recommended that he try this,  But he was immediately found. Still it's better to ask the person himself directly.

Yamazaki: You two, what are you talking about?

Souma:...Um, Then, Yamazaki-san, please show me how to [/you] work! ----

Souma: Hakuoki Shinkai Yuugiroku, Store Bonus Drama CD, Please teach me, Yamazaki-san! ----

Yamazaki: In other words, you now understand the duties of a page, and still want to know what sort work the other warriors do, and want to try monitoring/surveillance/doing the Watch's work? 

Is that how it is? Souma-kun.

Souma: It's just as you said. As the chief's page, I work hard every day, but I still don't know a lot about the Shinsengumi.

That's why I went and asked Saito-san [about this].

Saito: I know that Souma is working very hard. Though that will naturally be [more/become] obvious as time goes by/Though as time goes by, that will naturally be understood/Although this has been said for a while, this will naturally be understood. [check audio]

Yamazaki: But you don't want to wait for/until then, and want to be of use as quickly as possible?

Souma: Yes. Can you help me with this, even if it's [for] just a little bit?

Yamazaki: Hm.

Souma: Yamazaki-san.

Yamazaki: No, I was just reminiscing the past/thinking about the past.

I used to be as anxious as you are.

Alright, if I can, permit me to teach you.

Souma: Thank you very much!

Saito: Then can I also accompany/join you?

Yamazaki: Saito-san also wants to? That won't be a problem.

Saito: I also have experience following people while on patrol

I'm very interested in how the Watch [im pretty sure it's the Watch here and in the earlier instance. tho i can't say for certain since CN doesn't exactly do capitalization and ive never played the game in Chinese] fulfills its duties.

Please allow me to learn again. [check audio]

Yamazaki: In that case then, I'll ask you to please look after me.

----

Yamazaki: Although it normally referred to as the Watch,

the Watch is actually divided into two sections.

Souma: In terms of how it organized, sorry but please review it for me again.

Saito: The part of the organization for spies which acts by itself to gather external intelligence is called Shoshi shirabeyaku ken kansatsu*, and within that, those who are responsible for investigating/monitoring the conduct of [the/our?] members/the investigators whose duty is to supervise the conduct of/our members are known as the Kansatsugata**

* Shinsengumi's organizational post for investigating movements of the opponents and keeping the Shinsengumi members under control. (source: https://japanese-wiki-corpus.github.io/person/Kuwajiro%20OISHI.html)

**  had to look this up on the Shinsengumi wiki.samurai-archives

Yamazaki, who holds both positions/is capable of accomplishing both duties, is at the core of the Kansatsugata.

Souma: Shoshi shirabeyaku and Kansatsugata...

After hearing this again, I really feel that Yamazaki-san is quite amazing.

Yamazaki: Uh, do-don't say that out loud. I'm not used to it.

Souma: But, monitoring/investigating/supervising the conduct of the other members...

Saito: It's to secretly investigate whether or not members are conducting themselves in a manner that is befitting as members of the the Shinsengumi, and whether or not they have done anything improper.

Souma: In other words/That is to say, that also includes my actions so far.

Yamazaki: At the moment, you have no problems [there are no problems with you?].

Souma: Is-Is that so...

Yamazaki: There are almost two hundred members. Among them, there will be people who do not abide by the regulations, and those who clearly show their dissatisfaction/obviously dissatisfied or are treasonous/or even rebellious.

Souma: I see. Indeed there are people who obviously show that.

Saito:  It these people incite trouble within the team, it would be very troublesome.

That's why the Kansatsugata are needed to investigate people like this.

Yamazaki: Having said that, the three of us have been quite noisy so it would be helpful if we quickly correct that here. Ah. The two of you, over there.

Saito: Say who is there [more like "name" i guess? probably more "identify who is over there" ]

Souma: That is... Nagakura-san? There are several other people [He's with some other people/several others].

Yamazaki: This is a rare opportunity to train one of the basic skills for spying/[needed] as a spy. I'll give you a demonstration. Afterwards, you'll eavesdrop on their conversation without being discovered.

Souma: Yes, I'll do my best.

--------

Saito: Almost 15 minutes have passed. But it's really bold for you to have come up with this practical training, Yamazaki.

Yamazaki: For his first time attempt at doing this, Nagakura-san is suitable [to practise with]. As long as one isn't murderous [being bloodthirsty? think of something later], he'll basically ignore you.

Saito: Nn. If it was Souji, he would immediately draw his sword for a harsh/ruthless interrogation.

Yamazaki: No, Saito-san would do the same thing, and immediately get rid of your pursuer [not sure if this is in the "dispose of" sense though the tl i have can be translated that way lol].

Saito: Well, it doesn't feel good to be tested when I obviously haven't been disloyal.

Yamazaki: It's as you say, but this is my job.

Souma: AAAHHHHHH!!!!

Saito: Uh. [That’s] Souma. Why is he being hunted down [chased/pursued]?

Yamazaki: By whom/Who is it? Ah, Okita-san, at this time?

(frantic steps) Souma: Sorry! I didn't mean to do anything else!

This was just training for surveillance work!

(sword swung) Souma: AAAHHH!!

Okita-san, please forgive me!

Saito: An unexpected situation.

Yamazaki: He needs help to get away/escape from that situation, he isn't his opponent at all/he's no match for him.

Saito: I'll figure out a way to deal with Souji. You escape with Souma/You take Souma and run away. --------

Souma: Truly thank you for just now. Okita-san was already behind me before I realized it I really thought that I was going to die/I was dead.

Saito: Dying is a bit of an exaggeration.

But I'm certain he would have stabbed your neck with his sword and left you half-dead.

Yamazaki: I didn't expect Okita-san to be nearby, but there was way of knowing that you'd encounter him/but nothing can be done about meeting him [check audio].

Well then, change your mood for the next training [reword later]. The target is that room. Remain quiet from this point onward.

Souma: What's next?

Yamazaki: Take this letter and swap it with the letter in that room. But, in the next room, there is someone you must not be detected by.

Saito: Training for intelligence work? If this goes well, then it's possible that the other party won't even notice you.

Souma: That would be good, so it's just this letter? Then, I'll be right back.

Yamazaki: Ah, be very careful.

---------

Yamazaki: He entered the room without any problems.

Saito: Ah. So, who is the person in the next room?

Yamazaki: Well, it shouldn't matter since that person is asleep during the day.

( door slides open, then frantic steps)

Souma: Saito-san, Yamazaki-san! I'm sorry! I couldn't do it!   As soon as I entered the room, I felt that someone was staring at me through the door of the next room! There was also this creepy laughter/ing!

Saito: Laughter? The eyes staring at you, were they red?  [i swear this is going to become fanart one day lol. for both the spying and souma talking about what happened]

Souma: Yes! they didn't look like human eyes at all!

(door slides open.... slow creaking footsteps)

Saito: Does that mean that one over there was...

Yamazaki: Ah, damn it! He's awake!

Saito: Yamazaki, you go first! I'll deal with this!

Yamazaki: Sorry! I'll leave the General Secretary [so... i don't really like the English localization translation of Sanan's position being  a "colonel" so i looked up what it said on wikipedia and used that] to you! Souma-kun, come here!

This training/Training ends here!

Souma: Eh, eeehhhhhhhh?!

Saito: I'm sorry that it was noisy while your rested [that this noise disturbed your rest?], this was as a result of... --------

Souma:  What the hell that just now...

Yamazaki + Saito: It was just your imagination.

Souma: Eh. But, "General Secretary" was clearly said...

Yamazaki + Saito: You imagined hearing it [tl is more "it was an illusion" and one that is heard... maybe "you're hearing things"?. kinda gave up on thinking about that right now. ]

Souma:  Is, is that so... uh. That being said...

Saito: What's wrong/What is it?

Souma: Although the Kansatsugata feels quite unremarkable, each individual/everyone posses outstanding abilities, and I've been made aware of that again. [However] I 'm incapable of doing this sort of work.

Yamazaki: Hm. It can be said that you're not talented at this.

Souma: Eh?

Yamazaki: In the first place, not everyone can do this.

All of us within the Kansatsugata are constantly working on improving our skills.

We're always fighting in the shadows for the Shinsengumi.

What you think of being outstanding abilities is the results of our hard work. [remarkable capabilities?]

Souma: Truly, Yamazaki-san is amazing. I understand why everyone trusts you!  

Yamazaki: Th-That's why you shouldn't look at me like that. But for you, I think that you're better suited to doing honest work [tl can basically mean "honourable," "not devious" or "out in the open" in the straightforward sense] and not this secret monitoring work/surveillance in the shadows [reword later].

Saito: Indeed, compared to secretly taking covert actions in the shadows, you are better suited at working in the open, Souma.

Souma: I-is that so...

Thank you very much for this/that. If it's possible, I hope to still learn some things from you.

Yamazaki: There will be opportunities for that. Then, we'll end today's training here. Souma-kun, is there/do you have anything else you want to ask?

Souma: [Something] I want to ask.... ah. then, Yamazaki-san, may I ask you one last question?

Yamazaki: Ah, if I can answer, I won't hold back [will/do so].

Souma: What sort of technique is the "Tatami flip"?

Yamazaki: Ta... Where did you hear that name from?

Souma: Just now during this investigator training/spy training, Nagakura-san mentioned it/Nagakura-san mentioned it while doing the operative training. It is said that it is Yamazaki-san's most powerful technique.

Yamazaki: That guy said something unnecessary! No, Souma-kun, that's.... It's not something amazing like a secret technique..

Saito: Why are you being modest? That move is indeed capable of being referred to as/called  a secret technique. If it's possible, I'll ask you to please teach me it. Perhaps I will be able to apply it to kenjutsu.

Yamazaki: Even Saito-san, what are you saying? [Even Saito-san is saying this? check audio]

Souma: Please, Yamazaki-san!

Saito: I'll be requesting the same of you, Yamazaki. [tl is more "i'm also requesting (you) to do so/asking"]

Yamazaki: Bo-Both of you, please raise your heads. I-I get it! I'll teach you.

Souma: Really?!  Thank you very much!

Yamazaki: But, you can't tell anyone else about this.

Saito: Nn. Understood.

Yamazaki: Then, please get behind me. Aoyi***, Tatami flip!

This is the literal Mandarin pronunciation of the tl without tones. CN tl can mean “profound argumentation” (in Chinese), tho it's also used to refer to some of the highest level of martial skills in JP (so says a baidu search on the term). 

The English google translate of that page puts this phrase as "Ogi," and after reading this page that mentions "ogi" (http://www.aikiweb.com/forums/archive/index.php/t-9948.html#:~:text=Yielding%20is%20called%20%22ju%22%20as,an%20open%20heart%20without%20ego.), so i will probably change this to either "Secret move" or "hidden technique" based on what it mentioned there

Souma: Uoh!

Yaamzaki: Ju-Just now, that was the Tatami flip.

Souma: Amazing, that was amazing, Yamazaki-san! How were you able to do that without any tools [check audio]? Please tell me how to do this!

Saito: This can be used indoors while fighting defensively/can be used as a defence when fighting indoors. It can also be used to hinder an enemy's movements.

Yamazaki: Yes. This requires focusing your strength into the centre of your palm, and within a single breath, smack/slap the edge of the tatami, and then lifting it up when the edge bounces.

Souma: So it's like that? Hoh.... tatami flip! Uh. Areh? It didn't bounce at all.

Yamazaki: Haha. It's not something you can master right away. It also took me a long time to do it. Concentrate/Focus a bit more strength into the palm of your hand.

Souma: Ha! Ah! Yah! It-It's not moving...

Saito: Practise makes perfect./Won't practise make perfect [check audio]? Alright, I will challenge this. Should the position of my hand be around here?

Yamazaki: Yes. [Though] It's better to have it moved a bit forward [moved up a bit]/ if the if the center of gravity is moved forward.

Saito: Understood. Then, I'll be going. Secret technique: Tatami flip!

Yamazaki: No way...

Souma: Uoh.

Saito: Nn. That happened naturally [reword later...? tl is is basically "letting nature take its course was achieved"] .

Souma: Sa-Saito-san, that was amazing! You actually succeeded in one go!

Saito: No, there's no guarantee that this will succeed every time. The accuracy and speed can be further improved upon.

Souma: Really, the Shinsengumi has assembled some amazing people. I can't fall behind and have to work even harder.

Saito: Ah , work hard. I am always willing to practise kenjutsu with you.

Yamazaki: Ah, but, to have it actually done it so easily, my confidence...

Saito: What is it, Yamazaki?

Yamazaki: No, I just feel that need to train a lot more. Let's improve together, Souma-kun.

Souma: Yes! Please look after me!

Souma Kazue, Kaji Yūki Saito Hajime, Toriumi Kōsuke Yamazaki Susumu, Suzuki Takayuki

-end-

sorry but this is the only souma thing i have scheduled for april. 

also i wanted some Yamazaki content translated, but i unfortunately don’t remember if i ever found Yamazaki’s route from Yuugiroku 2... so I settled on translating what I hope is a certain complete chapter (as viewed via the extras menu) of Souji’s route with him in it... sorta. scheduled for july!

--------

image from suruga-ya