#god I just love it here!!! (obvious sarcasm if you can’t tell from the nature of this post)

[heartsofminds]

being 21 is one of the most humbling ages ever like it’s always SOMETHING! literally always fucking SOMETHING!!! 🤩🤭

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: So, here we go! 😁 Thank you so much for your wonderful support and lovely messages during my break my loves, they mean so much to me and ily! ❤ On my break, I binged a lot of shows, and Criminal Minds and Prodigal Son were two of them, but if you haven’t watched them don’t worry because it will not be following a specific canon plot😁❤Please let me know what you think and enjoy!❤

Warnings: Murder, drug use, serial killers, violence, manipulation

Summary: No one can choose their family.

If it were another time, you could’ve at least attempted to convince yourself how everyone had problematic childhoods. Focusing on something else usually worked, per the advices of countless psychiatrists your mother had forced you to go after the-

Incident.

Just the thought of it was more than enough to make your blood freeze in your veins, but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. You checked the caller I.D, and heaved a sigh before you touched the screen.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re not going there.” Your mother’s voice filled the car and you pressed your lips together.

“Hi mom.”

“Every time you go there and visit that man in that wretched prison cell of his, he manages to get into your head!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I have every reason to worry!” she snapped, “We promised that we wouldn’t let him worm his way into our lives.”

“Yeah well, FBI begs to differ,” you forced yourself to say, “You’ve seen the news—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” she cut you off, then heaved a sigh, “It’s terrible enough to hear it once, let alone twice.”

You never really had the luxury of ignoring all the terrible things on the news, especially after what had happened. Ever since you were a child, the nightmares wouldn’t leave you alone, and you weren’t as good as your mother at ignoring what was happening while you were awake.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I really couldn’t,” you mumbled and she clicked her tongue.

“Well then,” she said, trying to pull herself together, “I expect to see you at brunch, even your sister is coming. It won’t take long, will it?”

“It won’t take long to see my serial killer father and find out whether he is helping another serial killer even if he’s been behind bars for years?” you asked, “No mom. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Sarcasm will give you wrinkles.”

“Oh yeah, tragedy.”

“Call me as soon as you leave there,” she insisted, making you smile. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said as you pulled over in front of the building. Even the sight of it was enough to make your stomach flip and you felt the bile climbing up your throat.

You did not want to see him.

You had managed not to see him for years now, but now, the news were full of different coverage about a killer whose method of killing was very similar to him.

A flower left in the crime scene, every damn time.

Naturally, FBI wanted a word with the original killer. Less naturally, the original killer refused to speak unless he talked to his younger daughter, who happened to be you.

Unfortunately.

Yet, the sooner you walked in, the sooner you would walk out, and that was the only thing that offered any kind of consolation.

“God damn it,” you mumbled to yourself as you left your car, and made your way into the building. They patted you down, made you go through the x-ray and sign the papers before you entered the hall.

There were two men that weren’t in official prison guard clothes, which made you think these were the FBI agents you had talked to on the phone. For some reason, you hadn’t pictured them like this, but you didn’t know any agents so maybe this was the norm.

If it were any other time, you could’ve noticed how handsome they both were, but your mind was way too occupied.

“Ma’am,” the dark haired one stepped closer to you, “I’m Special Agent Luke Alvez, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even if Agent Alvez looked like the ideal FBI agent that was pulled out of an action movie, Dr. Reid looked more like a young, handsome professor, the ones that you dreamed would be at your university when you were still at high school.

Needless to say, that fantasy hadn’t come true much to your disappointment.

You shook your head, trying to focus.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You shook hands with him, and smiled at Dr Reid, “Hello.”

“Thank you for coming.” His smile was soft, much like his gaze, “I imagine it’s not easy for you.”

You forced yourself to shrug, “Yeah it’s…” you trailed off and cleared your throat, “It’s fine.”

“So far we have seen five murders all over the country, in different areas but the crime scene has your father’s signature. It most likely means there are multiple copycat killers, and given your father’s past, he might be the mastermind behind it. He contacted us, but refuses to say anything unless he spoke to you.”

The goosebumps rising on your arms felt almost familiar.

“I haven’t been educated in any interrogation techniques.” You said, “And knowing him, he’s not just going to give that information to me.”

“People give information about a lot of things even when they don’t realize it.” Dr Reid said, “We will be outside, watching and listening.”

“I’ll talk to the guards to see if he’s ready, excuse me.” Alvez said and he walked away while you nibbled on your lip.

“How does a serial killer have this many privileges?” Reid asked you, “He has a private cell, books, TV…”

“Money,” you said slowly, “Money buys lawyers, lawyers buy freedom. Or the closest thing to freedom, given the circumstances. If you ask me, he should’ve been rotting in a hole but...” you trailed off, leaning back to the wall and took a deep breath, counting in your head.

“That’s a good exercise to calm down,” Reid said and your head shot up.

“What?”

“The 4 7 8 breathing exercise. I’m guessing a psychiatrist taught you that.”

“Several psychiatrists taught me that,” you stated, raising your brows, “You’re observant aren’t you professor?”

“Doctor.”

You clenched an unclenched your fists, your eyes darting around the hall,

“This is not helping,” you said as you exhaled a breath, “I need a cigarette, or twenty.”

“What do you do?” his question was so out of nowhere that you gawked at him for a moment.

“What?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a— I’m a wedding planner.”

He tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“Well you…you know, you help the couples with color palettes, decoration, overall aesthetic, and during the wedding you make sure nothing goes wrong with the venue and the food and the music, all that. You make sure the wedding is perfect, basically.”

He hmmed, “How do I tell if a wedding is perfect? If we were talking sense wise?”

“Well first of all, in terms of looks, the colors need to complement each other,” you said, remembering your favorite events, “When you walk in, you see the garden and it’s well lit, but not too bright. In terms of touch, I guess you would make sure the table covers and such are soft to touch. The music should be slow at first, at least until it starts.”

“How about smell?”

“You can’t really go wrong with faint flower scents. Scented candles are a nice touch too.”

“The food?”

“Something light, most of the time. No one wants to get into a food coma at a wedding and you—“ you stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, a small smile playing at his lips.

He was making you list all the things that would ground you without making you realize you were doing it, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself in panic. It was yet another trick your psychiatrists had told you to do whenever you felt overwhelmed, talking about what you could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. By making you focus on a pleasant memory and remember all those, he was offering you a safe place in your own mind.

But contrary to any doctor, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Well played, professor.”

This time, he didn’t correct you,

“Grounding works most of the time,” he stated as Agent Alvez approached you, “I know this situation is less than ideal, but we will be right outside. You can walk out any time you want.”

“They’re ready.” Agent Alvez said and you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, then followed them to the door. Alvez opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, digging your fingernails into your palm.

His hair had more grays since you had last seen him, and his beard was longer, but that dangerous light in his eyes hadn’t changed. He looked up, a wide smile appearing on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, raising his hands a little so that you could see the chains attached to his handcuffs, “It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?”

Pretending to be calm was something you had practiced so many times that your body knew automatically what to do. The door closed behind you and you swallowed thickly, making sure your face didn’t show any feelings. You slowly approached the table to pull yourself a chair, then put your phone on the table and started the countdown.

He wanted five minutes, and you would be damned if you stayed there a second longer.

“You look so much like your mother,” your father shook his head, “It’s uncanny, really.”

You gritted your teeth, still glaring at him.

“Not your eyes though,” he smiled, “You got your eyes from me. The window to the soul, hm?”

“My soul has nothing to do with you.” The words left your lips before you could stop them and he tut tutted.

“My petal-“

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, “I hate that nickname.”

That didn’t seem to break his enthusiasm though, much to your displeasure.

“Well, we should catch up,” he said , clapping his hands together, “Are you still with that young man from last year? He’d better be treating you well.”

You blinked a couple of times, “How did you-?”

“I have my sources too.”

“Your sources are slow then.” You stated, “We broke up months ago. Is that all? You brought me here to just talk about my personal life?”

“Why did you break up?”

“Are you really behind all these murders happening right now?” you asked back and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“None of that right now, petal. Business and family shouldn’t be merged, as you know.”

You felt like you would throw up, but managed to hold it together and stole a look at the countdown.

“Why did you break up?”

“Certain differences,” you said, cracking your fingers to distract yourself, and he leaned back.

“I get that,” he said, “If you’re different, you’re different. I always felt that with your mother—“

“Stop that.” You spat out, “Anything I do, including my relationships, it has nothing to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh but you are,” he said, “It’s all in your eyes. In that deadly glare of yours. It’s there, isn’t it? That anger? Try to hide it as much as you want, it’s still burning you.”  

“There’s nothing burning me,” you said, “You’re fucked up, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You know, there are many scientists that say murder is in the genes,” he stated, “So it would mean you’re contaminated too, no?”

The panic was pounding through your system, but you managed to keep your expression stable.

“Do you know why I didn’t ask your sister here? Or hell, your mother? Do you know why it is you?”

You stayed silent, your gaze focused on him.

“Your sister loved your mother, but you…. You were always such a daddy’s girl.”

“Wrong.”

“I don’t even think you cried for your mother whenever you scraped your knees, it was always me.”

“I didn’t know you were crazy when I was a child, guilty as charged. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he said, “It proves more than you know. You are going to be my legacy.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine but you took a deep breath, resting your palms on the steel desk.

“No I won’t,” you said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint. I never killed anyone.”

Your father’s smile was almost as serene as your voice.

“Yet,” he pointed out, and you felt your throat tightening. “Ignore it if you want. It’s still there, petal.”

The beep of the phone made you snap out of it and you pushed your chair back, knocking it over in the process.

“Fuck you,” you said through your teeth as you gripped the door knob, “Have fun rotting in here.”

You swung the door open and stepped outside, still trying to catch your breath, and the door next to the interrogation room opened before Reid stepped into your vision. Your hands were still shaking and you desperately needed a cigarette and some fresh air.

But what you really needed was to get out of there.

“Y/N?”

“I hope you got whatever you guys needed,” you managed to say, wiping at your nose, “Because I’m never stepping a foot here, ever again.”

With that, you walked out of the hall, every cell in your body screaming at you to get away. You ignored the looks from the guards, tears blurring your vision and you left the building as fast as you could, as if someone was chasing you.

As if that could help you escape him.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @rhabakoli​ @theskytraveler​ @danyka-fendyr​ @alwaysadreamingoptimist​   @lettersofwrittencollective​ @dreamers-wonderland​ @lilliannaansalla​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @iblogabout-stuff​ @thinemineours​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @davnwillcome​ @chibi-liz05​ @demigoddesofchimichangagod​ @finnickfoxes​

[pascalpanic]

Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life. 

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match. 

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears. 

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head. 

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

-

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed. 

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses. 

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department.  you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body. 

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head. 

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson. 

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second. 

They did this on purpose. 

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body. 

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm. 

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him. 

-

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you. 

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest. 

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks. 

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh. 

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes. 

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog. 

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style. 

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name. 

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball. 

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

-

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.” 

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

[akitokihojo]

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

[exhaustedfander]

I’m out of my element (I can’t breathe)

a03 link

masterpost link

Word Count: 3,593

This is my first time writing anxceit, so I’d love to hear what you think! 

When Janus finds Virgil alone in the common room, sobbing and struggling to breathe, the scene can’t help but feel achingly familiar. He’s been in this position so many times, seeing Virgil at his most vulnerable – but it’s been years.

So much has gone on since then, so much has changed. Bridges have been burned, at least that’s what it can’t help but feel like. Janus has seen hostility and bitterness and little else from Virgil for so long; it’s not completely unjustified, either, not nearly. He would do anything to keep Janus from seeing him like this now, Janus is sure of it.

But regardless, he’s found him. And he needs to act.

“Virgil, hey, hey,” Janus says quickly, crouching in front of Virgil sat on the couch, hugging his knees and trembling so hard, “Hey, it’s alright. Do you need me to get you, someone? Do you need Patton? Logan? Roman?”

Janus supposes perhaps Virgil wouldn’t do anything to keep him from being seen this way, just most things. Because as impossible as it often seems, something’s been established between them in the last few months. What it is, Janus can’t possibly say. But he can assess with confidence that whatever it is, it’s raw, and it’s fragile, and it feels moment from breaking each day.

He doesn’t think he can call them friends. Friends don’t have this much built-up hostility, at least not healthy relationships. Friends don’t look at each other that way, sizing one another up, guessing who might strike first. Janus remembers when they were friends. More than friends, even.

But whatever it is that they are, things have shifted. Virgil was not initially thrilled to know of Janus being on the road to acceptance; “not thrilled” doesn’t even begin to remotely cover it. He does everything that Janus expects – expresses that he can’t be trusted, that this is a terrible idea, etc. etc. But then, he does something Janus would never have entertained the idea of: he gives in.

It isn’t immediate, and it doesn’t irradiate years of troubled history, but it happens. Virgil decides, with time, that if Thomas wants to trust Janus, if he wants him in his corner, then okay. He can work with that. He can handle it. Janus is very sure this decision is what begins to smooth things over with him and Roman – not to say they’re still exactly on the best of terms. But Virgil, to some extent, gives his apprehensive blessing.

Slowly, Janus takes up more of Thomas’s life. He participates in conversations, engages in debates. Virgil’s by no means his biggest fan, and for a while, he avoids him, leaves the room when Janus enters. But that doesn’t last.

With time, Virgil peaks out of his shell more and more. He speaks to Janus directly, their conversations not consisting of pure bitterness, though it is certainly a major component. Virgil doesn’t hiss every time Janus enters a room, doesn’t complain when he joins them for movie night, doesn’t express his distaste for him at every given opportunity. This isn’t what he’d expected of the anxious side, and Janus doesn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, he’s gaining acceptance, building stronger relationships with the light sides. Even Remus hangs around with them, sometimes, which is nice. Remus was the only one Janus had for so long. On the other hand, memories can’t help but crop up. Janus reminisces far more than is healthy, remembering the way things once were. He finds himself waking up in a cold sweat some nights, caught in the disillusionment of dreams. Sometimes, he expects to wake in Virgil’s arms, the thought always foolish, always heartbreaking.

And now, here they are, and Virgil is having a panic attack.

“Virgil,” Janus repeats, just slightly louder, trying to push through the cobwebs of the emo’s mind, “Do you need me to get you, someone? Do you want me to find one of the others?”

Virgil shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks, smudging his eyeshadow. It isn’t the answer Janus was expecting but, okay, he can roll with this.

“Do you want me to help?”

If Virgil says no, Janus is sure he’ll have no choice but to wake one of the other sides and have them offer their assistance. Despite what others might think of him, Janus is not a monster, and he can’t find it in himself to so much as imagine leaving Virgil alone in the state that he’s in.

Virgil nods. …huh. He actually wants his help. Imagine that.

Shit. Okay, okay, this is fine. Janus has done this a million times before – it’s been quite a while, but still. He’s got this.

“Can I touch you?” Janus asks softly, making sure he doesn’t kneel too close to Virgil. He doesn’t want him to feel boxed in. Virgil shakes his head fiercely, pushing his back further into the couch.

“Okay,” Janus says, holding his hands up as if to say, it’s okay, I’m not going to touch you, I’m not going to hurt you.

Janus couches Virgil through breathing exercises, offering as much support as he’s able. He checks in often: “Is this okay? You’re doing so good, Virgil. So good. Come now, it’s alright. You’ll be alright. That’s right, in and out, just like that. That’s very good.”

It’s wrong, how natural this feels, even now. It has to be wrong; Janus decides. Virgil hasn’t been much of a part of his life in so long, and now here they are, interacting like nothing’s ever been bitter between them.

 I’d help any of the sides like this, if they needed it, Janus thinks to himself, trying to rationalize away the pit in his stomach, it doesn’t make it any different that it’s Virgil I’m helping. But even he can’t believe that lie.

It takes a while, but eventually, Janus helps him reach a calmer state. He offers Virgil a makeup wipe to remove the rest of the smudges on his cheeks, and a glass of water. Virgil takes the glass silently, his hands still trembling, and then the wipe, removing his eyeshadow. It’s the first time Janus has seen him without makeup in years, and the bags under his eyes reach nearly as far as the eyeshadow usually does.

“Are you feeling any better?” Janus asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Y-yeah,” Virgil says, his voice a little raw, a little wobbly, “I’m fine.”

“Fine” probably isn’t the right descriptor, not right now, but Janus doesn’t call him on it.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Tension settles over the pair, heavy and intrusive. Janus shouldn’t let it surprise him, but he is. He tries not to keep his eyes trained on Virgil, scanning over the walls, the kitchen. But when he can’t help himself, when he catches sight of Virgil, he looks so damn tired.

“Dec–,” Virgil starts, pausing halfway through as their eyes meet, and swallowing down the word, “Janus… thank you.”

Janus doesn’t miss the way he struggles with his name, has been struggling with his name, but he’s saying it. He isn’t calling him Deceit, or snake, two-faced, or any other less than polite things. He’s just… calling him by his name. It’s nice. It’s been so long.

“Of course,” Janus says, still keeping his distance.  “Did… did you want me to give you some space now? Or take you back to your room?” Janus has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying ‘I don’t want to overstep.’

“No, I – you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” Virgil’s words are anxious and quiet, but that doesn’t hinder the fact that it’s so clear Virgil doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Janus’s company, even after he’s been calmed down, and that’s… god, it’s a lot to process.

“Alright,” Janus says, pausing a moment before sitting down on the sofa beside him, albeit a distance away, “Virgil, are… are you okay?”

Virgil snorts, but the sound lacks much humor.

“Uh, no. I thought that was obvious?” Janus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right, how stupid of me. Let me rephrase; why aren’t you okay? What’s wrong?” And then, he caught the look of terror in Virgil’s eyes. “Only if you want to tell me, of course. You don’t have to.”

“Why’re you doing that?” Janus blinks.

“I’m sorry?”

“Being so nice,” Virgil clarifies, wringing his hands, his eyes everted, “Why’re you being so fucking accommodating? Why’re you being so… I dunno, gentle?”

“Would you prefer I was ravenous? Is uncaring and cruel more your style? Because last I checked, it wasn’t.”

“Don’t be an asshole; you’re avoiding the question.”

“An asshole? Why Virgil, you wound me. Just a moment ago you referred to my behavior as ‘gentle.’” Virgil lets out a sigh, long and exhausted, the look in his eyes so soft it sends a shiver down Janus’s spine.

“Janus. Please, just – just answer the question. I’m too tired for this shit.”

It’s the ‘please’ that really gets him. Virgil isn’t begging, but he’s damn close, and Janus doesn’t want to see that. He doesn’t want Virgil to beg, pleading for answers. In all fairness, he doesn’t want to answer, either. But what choice has he got?

“You were having a panic attack,” Janus says, his voice smooth and to the point (at least he hopes it comes across that way), “I walked into the common room, and you were alone, having a panic attack. So I helped you.”

“But this isn’t a new thing. You’ve been being nice to me for weeks. Months, maybe. Even… even when I was avoiding you.” Janus sucks in a breath. Of course, he knew Virgil had been avoiding him, but he hadn’t expected an admission. “Why?”

“Your behavior was… understandable. I know we’ve not always been on the best of terms.”

“And we are now?” Janus sighs.

“I didn’t say that. You must forgive me for trying to salvage what I can.”

It’s hard to dial down the sarcasm sometimes when he isn’t paying attention, and now certainly isn’t the time for it. still, it’s very late, and the tension is overwhelming, and it’s a crutch Janus has relied on for quite some time. Virgil too, he remembers. He isn’t the only sarcastic prick in the room.

“I didn’t… god, I’m not saying you shouldn’t try. I-it’s kind of nice, that you are. I mean, I don’t know, man, I –.”

“You’ve been trying, too. Don’t think I haven’t caught on. We’re on speaking terms, after all. And that wasn’t the case weeks ago.”

“Y-yeah, well, I kind of have to, right? If Thomas is cool with you hanging around, and the others are. I’ve gotta make an effort, or whatever.”

“But you don’t,” Janus counters, “You could still be entirely hostile towards me if you so desired to do so. I really wouldn’t blame you. You don’t have to try either, but you are.” Virgil quiets, a look of contemplation settling over his face before he nods slowly.

“Yeah… I mean, I guess so. Hey, what were you doing out here in the middle of the night, anyway? I thought you’d be getting your beauty rest.”

Truthfully, that isn’t a question Janus had been expecting. He doesn’t really have an answer, either. At least not something that made much sense.

“I just… I had a feeling, okay?”

In all fairness, it’s true. Janus had woken up with the slightest inclination that something was off. He didn’t know what it was, or why it was bothering him so much, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking into the commons room, just to check things out, to explain that odd feeling. And then, there had been Virgil.

“You had a feeling?” Virgil asks flatly, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Are – are you sure you’re not too tired? Because, if you are, we can consider this conversation later. We –.”

“Janus stop it. Cut the bullshit and stop fucking lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Janus says softly, making a show of clenching and unclenching his knuckles, “See? The gloves are off.” Virgil’s eyes widen, and huh, he must not have noticed Janus’s lack of gloves until now.

“Holy shit,” he breathes the words out like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever seen, “I don’t – I mean, I can’t remember the last time I saw you without your gloves on.” Janus shrugs.

“It’s not a big deal.” “Like hell, it’s not. You’ve always been weird about it. You never let anyone see your hands except…” Virgil pauses, his eyes grazing over the scales on Janus’s left hand. He sucks in a breath. “Except me.”

“It’s still you,” Janus says like it’s not groundbreaking, “I didn’t figure anyone else would be out here. And, I don’t sleep with them on, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m… I’m trying to be more open, alright? Hard to believe, I know. Seeing as I’m usually such an open book.”

Virgil can’t help it; he giggles. It’s a turbulent sound, still riddled with anxiety, with uncertainty. But he does it all the same.

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “Same. I just love talking about my feelings and all that shit.” Janus squints at him in mock offense, pressing a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me? Are you stealing my bit? Lying is my schtick, not yours, stormcloud.”

Oh. He didn’t mean to say it; he can’t have meant to say it.

“What’s the matter? Virgil what’s – oh. Oh, I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said that.” Janus gasps as he suddenly feels Virgil’s hand in his.

“It’s okay. I was just… surprised, for a sec. But it’s okay.”

“Virgil…”

“You want to know why I was freaking out?” It feels like a trick question. Is Janus allowed to ask? It doesn’t seem like something Virgil’s happy to share, but… he asked, right? Janus hates this, the self-doubt he’s facing. It’s not like him to be so uncertain.

“I want you to tell me whatever you’re comfortable sharing.” “Do you want to know?” Janus sighs.

“…yes.”

“I was thinking about you,” Virgil says softly, his eyes widening when he catches sight of the look on Janus’s face. “Shit – no, no it’s nothing bad! I mean – kind of, but you didn’t do anything.”

“Thinking about me spurred on a panic attack? How is that ‘nothing bad’? How can that possibly be ‘nothing bad’?” Panic bubbles in Janus’s throat, and it takes Virgil squeezing his hand to quiet him, that look of dread not leaving his eyes.

“I… okay, this is going to sound stupid. But –.”

“Yes?” Janus asks, desperation scraping up his throat.

“I was thinking about how things have been… different. Which, uh, is a good thing. To be clear.”

“A good thing made you have a panic attack?”

Virgil exhales sharply, looking at Janus. It’s strange, seeing him without his hat and gloves, his hat fluffy and just a little ruffled from sleep. His pajamas are silky and black and gold because, of course, they are. Virgil would expect nothing else. He hasn’t looked at Janus like this, so softly and introspective in… god, he doesn’t know. A damn long time.

The resentment hasn’t burned away, not completely. The memories of lies still linger. “I’m just trying to protect you. To keep you safe!” And maybe he was, but it still hurt. Still does, sometimes. But not like it used to. These wounds haven’t healed completely, but they're old. Fading all the time.

“I got overwhelmed. I was thinking about how we’re talking again, and you’re hanging around a lot more lately and – and I freaked out.”

“Why?” Janus asks. His voice is so raw that it hurts. Virgil shuts his eyes, though his grip on the deceitful side’s hand doesn’t lessen.

“Because it makes me think about how things used to be,” Virgil admits in a whisper so soft it’s almost inaudible, “I think about us years ago. Do… do you ever do that? Think about the past?”

“Yes,” Janus chokes out, struggling to keep himself from saying more. From saying, ‘Yes, all the time. Every day. I miss you more than anything. I wake up with your name on my lips. Come back to me. Please, come back to me.’ “Yes, I do.”

“I… I shouldn’t have left you guys without saying anything.” Janus blinks, feeling pressure building behind his eyes, and no, he won’t cry. He won’t.

“Virgil you- you don’t have to do this.” “Yeah. I do. I left you, I left Remus. And I didn’t say anything. I was just so tired, Jan. I was so fucking tired, and – and scared, and I didn’t know what to do. And things were complicated with us, I mean, they still are but I – well, you know. So… so I left. I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry, Janus.” Janus has dreamed of this moment. He’s dreamed of it forever and ever, but now that it’s happening it’s so much.

“I still stand by some of it. You did some shitty stuff; you lied to me too much. I hated that. You know I hated that. But… I was an asshat too. I have been an asshat, even when you’ve been trying to make things right. I’m sorry.”

It takes a lot for Virgil to apologize, Janus knows it does. And here he is, exhausted, and emotional and more open than Janus has seen him in so long, just laying it all out. It’s… it’s amazing.

“It’s alright,” Janus finds himself saying, “Of course, it’s alright. Remus will say the same thing. I know you two haven’t always – haven’t always been on great terms. I know he terrorized you more often than not. But – but he misses you. Very much.”

“I’ve missed you, Jan,” Virgil says softly, eyes downcast, “…a lot.”

That, it seems, is the breaking point. Tears spring from Janus’s eyes and he lets out a choked sob, his hand retracting from Virgil and covering his mouth instinctively, as though to shut himself up. Only then is Janus aware of the fact that he’s trembling.

“I-I –,” Janus tries to push past the lump in his throat, to say “me too,” to say, “I’ve missed you terribly.” But all he can manage is tears. Janus hates the weakness he can’t help but exhibit; he hasn’t cried like this in ages.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Can I hold you? Would that be okay?” Janus nods furiously, gasping as he feels Virgil’s arms around him. It’s edging on awkward, Virgil’s hugs always have been, but it’s home and Janus never wants to be anyplace else. He buries his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck, clinging to him fervently.

He doesn’t know how their roles could have been reversed so drastically. Moments ago, he was talking Virgil down from a panic attack, and now. Now Virgil’s rubbing circles into his back, slow and gentle, and whispering words of encouragement that don’t quite make it through in Janus’s frantic state of mind. But it’s nice, knowing he’s reassuring him and holding him just as tight.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Janus pants weakly the moment he finds his voice, his face still buried in the warmth of Virgil’s neck, “For everything. I’m s-so sorry for everything, stormcloud.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says. It’s a promise. Not a pretty lie; he means it. “It’s gonna be okay, Jan. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Janus says, as passionately as he can, so that he can prove without a shadow of a doubt that it’s true, “I’ve missed you desperately.”

They sit like that for a long while, clung to each other, Janus’s tears still steadily falling. But after a while, things die down.

“There you are,” Virgil says reverently when Janus finally peaks up from where his face was hidden. He can feel the human side of his face growing flushed as Virgil cups his cheeks.

“Can… can I – ?” Virgil begins to ask before Janus’s lips are on his, a pair of hands caught in his hair. Virgil reciprocates quickly, hands settling on Janus’s shoulders, and then his sides, and in his hair, too.

It’s by no means a perfect embrace; nothing about this situation is. But it’s theirs, and it’s real, and it’s all Janus has wanted for so, so long.

“We’ll try again. We can do that, can’t we?” Virgil asks, pulling away just slightly, his breath still hot against Janus’s face.

“Yes,” Janus agrees quickly, maybe too quickly, he doesn’t care, “That’s all I want.”

“Me too,” Virgil says, smiling tiredly. Janus clings to him like he might disappear if he lets go, even for a moment. But this isn’t a fleeting dream. Not anymore.

“I love you,” Virgil says, “I… I don’t know if I ever really stopped.”

“I love you, too,” Janus whispers like it’s a prayer. Like it’s the holiest thing that he could speak aloud. “I love you, Virgil.”

They’ll talk more in the morning. They’ll talk in detail about the trust that remains, the love that they still hold for one another, even after all this time, and the things they’ve got to work through. But for now, they hold onto one another, exhaustion finally fully settling in.

Sleep comes quickly, and they lie there on the sofa, a tangle of limbs. For the first time in a long time, both Janus and Virgil sleep peacefully.

=+=

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[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

A Second Chance?

One-shot

Description- Steve cannot forget Peggy and you become his second choice.

Warnings- Angsty Steve

This one-shot is for the exciting weekly challenge set by @donutloverxo and her friends! For this week, the fic is inspired by their moodboard below! Check out the challenge here

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Red. That was all that Steve saw when he entered the party. Red. Raw anger radiated from him like heat from an asphalt road on a hot summer day. Everyone at Tony's party looked at the angry Captain and gave him plenty of room, unwilling to bear the brunt of his temper. 

He slowly walked across the room, his eyes searching for your silhouette. Finally, he found you talking to Pepper on the balcony of the Avengers tower. You were wearing his favourite dress, the white one with lace on the top and a little bit of flare at the knees. You were your usual charming self, making Pepper smile with your innocence. Huh, Steve snorted, if only they knew how petty you could be. 

You looked at him as he stepped towards the balcony, feeling his presence. But, his expression made you stop. It was obvious he was furious, but why? As far as you knew, there were no new missions at the moment and the world was safe, at least for the time being. Apparently, Pepper noticed Steve's body language as well and slightly nodded when you excused yourself.

In the last year with Steve, you had gotten pretty good at handling his temperamental nature. In all the time you had shared with him, you had never seen Steve this furious. You followed him quietly into his apartment that you shared with him, and flinched when he closed the door with a BANG.

He glared at you from across the room, his nostrils flaring as if he could breathe fire. Fists clenched, he slowly started walking towards you. "How many times have I said that you will NEVER measure up to Peggy?" he spat.

"Al-almost everyday Steve," you stammered. Even after all these years, Peggy still claimed a special place in Steve's heart and he didn't miss any opportunity to bring it up. His words and his compass were a constant reminder that you would always hold a second place in his life. But you didn't mind though, because for you, Steve was the only one there could ever be.

"And how many times have I asked you to stay away from the compass?" he asked. "Many t-times Steve. W-what happened?" you asked, clearly nervous with Steve's demeanor.

"Why did I find my compass covered in red wine on the couch?" his voice dripping with anger. This was news to you as well. You had never touched the compass, knowing it would upset Steve. 

Shaking your head, you tried to reason with him, "Steve this is the f-first time I am hearing about this. I-I promise you I had n-nothing to do with this. Should we ask F.R.I.D.A.Y? M-maybe she caught something on tape?" 

"Do you honestly think I am that dumb?" Steve snapped as he stepped further, "Her tapes have been wiped clean. And only you have access to that, don't you? Ms. Head of Security?"

"Steve, please believe me, I did no such thing. Let's go to my office and we can figure this out," you pleaded with him. 

"YOU disgust me. I can't even look at you. Make sure your stuff is cleared out of my apartment by tonight," he stormed out after the command.

You couldn't just stand there and watch the love of your life just breakup with you. And so, you rushed out after him, hoping to knock some sense into his arrogant brain.

In an attempt to get away from you, Steve headed to the party, with you almost near his heels. 

"Steve," you called out to him, not wanting to create a scene, but he had already entered the party and was walking towards the bar near the pool. You almost sprinted to catch up to the man. When you finally did, you placed a small hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Steve please l-lis… ARGGHH!"

In an attempt to shake you off, Steve had pushed you. Now in his head, it was a light push, but for your petite body, the impact of the push threw you into the deep-end pool.

You fell with a loud splash. Panic gripped you as you kept sinking into the water, flailing your arms and legs around as you miserably tried to swim.

Almost instantly, you saw yourself being enveloped by a ball of red light, lifting you out of the water and onto the edge of the pool. 

As you coughed up water, someone covered you with a blanket and started rubbing your back. You looked up to see Bruce's reassuring face. 

"Good job Wanda," you heard, was it Clint? "Thank God this went better than the wine accident."

"Sshhhh," you guessed you heard Wanda shushing him.

"What do you mean by 'wine accident'?" Steve asked with authority. 

"Uhhh," Clint fumbled for words as Wanda looked guilty, "Wanda and I were practising her powers in the living room when, by mistake, she kinda spilled red wine on your compass. So yeah… But it was closed…"

Steve fumed at Wanda, and received a silent apology in return. 

You slowly stood up and started making your way towards the apartment, wanting to clear out your stuff before the night. You had never thought that Steve would get physical with you. All this time, you had patiently tolerated his temper, telling yourself that he led a hectic and violent life and that he probably needed an outlet to blow off his steam. But today he crossed a limit.

Steve saw you walking out, and stepped in your direction, hoping to follow you to the room. But he was stopped by Natasha, "Don't," she said sternly, "Let her go. She doesn't deserve to be treated this way."

…

It had been a year since that fateful day. You had quit your job at Stark Industries and moved out to California, where you were working with an international tech company. 

Everyday, without fail, you had received a red rose, with a single note - I am sorry, written in Steve's almost illegible handwriting. It didn't matter where you went, you always received a rose, which you dutifully gave to your old neighbour, always managing to make him smile his toothy smile.

Today, however, you received a small package with the rose. Without a second thought, you threw the package in the garbage bin on your way to work. But as you entered your office, you found the same package on your desk. Again you threw it into the dustbin, immersing yourself in your work. 

You reached home quite late, exhausted with day. As you entered your modest apartment, you found the package sitting on your living room table. Exhaling loudly, you picked it up and threw it out of the window. 

"It's not nice to throw away somebody's gift," Steve said quietly from behind her. 

"Yes but it is nice to throw your girlfriend into the swimming pool," you snorted, not surprised to see him there.

"I am sorry," he spoke with remorse, "I didn't mean to. You didn't deserve to be treated like that." "Wow, who managed to knock some sense into you?" you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. 

He blocked your way, careful not to touch you as you were headed for your bedroom. "Just open this once," he said, revealing the real box from behind him. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with you," you said crossing your arms.

Sighing in defeat, Steve opened the box to reveal his compass. "I hope this shows you how serious I am about you, about us. Here, open it," he offered you the compass. 

"No," you again replied with defiance. 

He huffed as he pressed the button to open the compass. Now, instead of Peggy, it was your image that adorned the metal inside. You raised your eyebrow at him as he looked at you expectantly.

"Do you really think this will make up for everything you have done?" you asked him incredulously. "No, I know it won't," he hung his head shamefully, "but at least it's a start. I am sorry. I know I hurt you, but please give me a second chance. I…" he sighed, "I need you."

Stepping away from him, you headed for your bedroom, "I honestly need time to think about this Steve. You cannot just expect me to move on with you like nothing happened just because you are sorry."

Turning the doorknob to the room, you said with spite, "You let yourself in my house, you can see yourself out Captain," and with that, you entered the bedroom and closed your door.

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do promt #3 for Hyde x reader? (Love your story telling btw)

I (fake) love you - Steven Hyde x reader

a\n: this somehow ended up as a fake dating au but i’m not mad

trigger warnings: cursing, weed mentioning, Hyde and reader are pretending to “do it” as Kelso would say, i’d say it has some angst and fluff but nithing too extreme.

I was always good at reading people. Normally, I could talk to someone for 5 minutes and know everything there is to know about them, for example, the first time I met Michael Kelso, I knew immediately he’s dependable, loyal and likes to be pushed around. Most people thinks it’s his lack of smarts that makes it easy to manipulate him, but the truth is he just seeks attention, he grew up in such a big family, and as just another sandwich kid, he never got that much attention. He’s more than just a good-looking, brainless goofball.

Eric Forman? Smart kid, heart of gold. His father crashed his self esteem and his belief he has no worth sunk so deep into his brain he’s not even trying to prove it wrong. He’s not just a nerdy smart-ass, too bad he’s scared of his potential.

Donna Pinciotti is the girl who will go far. She’ll make history, i can tell you that. She is passionate, and she will not hesitate to fight over what she sees right, yet will admit if she did you wrong. She grew up in a loving family overall, but she doesn't want to end up like her dad: rich, lazy and stuck in a small town. She’s a big city kind of girl.

Fez is sweet, desperate and eats candy to cope with his loneliness. He’s not afraid of his feminine side, and cares about his looks in a different way then Kelso. He might be weird, and have a tendency to say the most inappropriate things, but he never looks to hurt someone or make them uncomfortable, he just wants to feel loved.

Jackie Burkhart was a bit harder to crack, and her first impression on me was semi-wrong. I could tell she’s more than a spoiled brat, I just didn’t know if it’s in a good way - like, she might be smart and kind, with a broken point of view in the world but she’s willing to look at it from a different point of view. On the other hand, she could be a mean, spoiled brat who’s going to succeed big time by manipulating the hell out of everything around her. Turns out it’s a little bit of both - she’s kind, and she learns the world is not all glitter and unicorns, but she manipulates to get things her way. At least she doesn't make a fuss when she doesn't get what she wanted. Well, not as much.

With all that, there was still one mystery in the little group I found myself a part of: Steven Hyde.I could not tell you a thing about him. I knew the basics - his name, the fact his parents are not there, and that he likes weed, beer and Zeppelin. He hid every sign of emotions behind sarcasm, and had walls taller than anyone i’ve ever met.

I started hanging out with them when I moved here. Kelso made a move on me the second he saw me, and he still tries to this day, but it’s obvious our relationship is strictly platonic and it’s not going to change, even though he thinks it’s better. One time I jokingly agreed and he said, and I quote, “ew, no, you’re like a sister to me”, but he keeps on making sexual advances on me for the sake of the joke.

I quickly befriended the rest of the guys (and girls), and even though i learned to love all of them, there was someone i really loved. Not Kelso, he’s practically my brother, it was Hyde i was so into, but i can’t tell you why. Maybe it was his sense of humor, maybe it was his kind heart or maybe it was the challenge.

“Hey, (y\n), penny for your thoughts?” Donna said, breaking the silence. The TV was on, but it was clear my head is somewhere else. “She’s thinking ‘bout Hyde” Kelso was quick to tease. “Shut up” I growled at him, and suddenly everyone’s focus was on me. Hyde wasn’t there, Kelso might have zero tact, but he would never throw me under the bus, cause he knows i will get into the bus and run over him. It was me and him on the couch, and Donna and Eric across from each other on the chairs as a way to avoid them making out instead of hanging out with their friends. “(y\n), do you want to tell us something?” Eric asks. “I- no, it’s stupid. Kelso is stupid, remember the time he ate a blueberry on a field trip and it ended up being the poisneus one we were warned about when we arrived?” i said, hoping it will drive the attention to tease him and not me. “Oh, that was funny, but not as funny as the time he revealed you have a crush on Hyde” Donna said, “but good try”. I sighed. “Look, it’s not like i’m in love with him or something, he’s just a mystery I want to solve. A mystery with a kind smile and great sense of humor. Look, it’s nothing, Kelso is just obsessed with the idea his best friends will date” i said. “oh, Tell them what you told me, come on! It was hilarious” Kelso said, ignoring the last part of my confession, and when I refused he decided to share my words he did it himself. “God, Kelso, his voice is so hot, i can listen to him for hours even if it’s just the stupid car that runs on water non-sense” He said, immitating a high-pitched voice that didn’t really sound like mine. “That is not what i said” i tried to redeem myself, but Eric and Donna were too busy laughing to hear me. “I just said he’s voice is calming” I kept trying.

“Who’s voice?” Hude asked as he jumped over the couch and took the open spot next to me. “Y-” Kelso started, but i hit his chest, “-our mama” he changed the ending of the word, “BURN!”. “I was talking about the weather guy” I made up, but did I lie? “You’re so weird, man” Hyde sighed, stretching and leaving his hand on the couch. “Well, kelso, we have this thing, you coming?” Donna said, “with Jackie, the double date i can’t believe i agreed to”. Kelso looked confused, “it’s tomorrow”. “No, it’s today” Eric insisted, winking at him and nudging his head at me and hyde. “What? Jackie is going to kill me-” “we won’t tell her you forgot” Donna plays along. I saw right through the act, but kelso really thought he forgot. 

He left the basement along with Eric and donna.It wasn’t the first time me and Hyde we’re alone, but usually it was Kelso ditching me and Hyde when the three of us hung out to try and get a girl to sleep with. I’m telling you, one day he’ll get someone pregnant.

“What’s with them?” Hyde sighed and got up to get a popsicle. “Who fucking knows?” i replied, trying to think of a way to change the subject. “You saw how Eric pointed at us? Like what, are they trying to get us alone?” Hyde continued, handing me a popsicle as he sat down. “I- yeah” i admitted, “Kelso has this crazy idea, he wants us to date cause we’re both his best friends or something” i explained, leaving out the part i was on board with the idea, and the fact that it was originally mine. “Oh, we should totally prank them!” Hyde said, “like, let’s pretend to date and be the most annoying couple ever”. I looked at him confused. “Like, we can use cutest couple names, ditch them to be alone or just make out in their face constantly” his smile got wider and wider, and I can't say no to that smile. “Sure, yeah, could be fun”.

The next day, I walked in the basement wearing your favourite outfit, ready to annoy the heck out of my friend. The moment you entered the room, Hyde got up and pulled you onto a hug. “Hey, lover boy” I said, kissing him on the lips. We had to practice doing that without laughing. We kissed like, 10 times yesterday when we planned the prank, his reply kept breaking us and we had to do it again. “Hi, apple pai” he said, kissing me one more time. Everyone looked at each other, exchaging “what the fuck?”s with their eyes. Hyde placed his hand on my waist and walked me to the couch, “Steven!” I laughed when he picked me up in bridal style and sat down, resting me in his lap.  “God, babe, you look so hot today” Hyde said, sliding his hand down my side, settling on a not too sexual but not that friendly spot on my thigh. It was all planned, and fake, but the blush on my cheeks was as real as it gets. “Well, lover, I wanted to dress up for you” I said, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “Uh, guys, what’s going on?” Jackie was the first to speak. “Oh, well, yesterday Kelso, Eric and Donna, pulled a little trick to get me and Hyde together, and it worked” I smiled. “Yeah, guys, thank you so much for helping me get with the most beautiful girl in the world” Hyde agreed, looking at me through his rosy sunglasses. I took them from him. “Hey!” he said, but before he got them back I put them on. I slide them down my nose and look up to him. “That was hot, so i’ll let it slide this time” he said, taking the glasses off of my face. The script we wrote was absolutely perfect.

The days have passed, and soon they turned into weeks, and our little show kept going.  I’ll admit, kissing Hyde and ditching the gang to hang out with him (we pretended to leave for a different reason, tho), the fake double dates… it was fun. The longer we pretended to date, the more our couple-y behavior stuck with us, like, one time we met up for a pretend-date and he kissed me when he saw me. I kissed him back, it just felt natural. We got a good laugh out of it, but it happened more than once. I knew I had to ask him to stop this, because my feelings kept growing but he had none, plus I know he kept fooling around cause i’ve seen girls flirting with him, and they always left together.

We were in his room now, pulling another trick. “Oh, lover, yes” i called, trying to sound as breathless as i can. “Oh, buttercup, you're soooo hot” Hyde called, and jumped on his bed, making it creek. I had to really hold my laugh as I joined him.

“Oh, babe, you’re so good” I called, adding some moans in between words. “Nice” he whispered. We heard the door knob being messed with. Hyde was quick to push me down on the bed. He took off his shirt, hinting me to do the same as we got under the sheets. He got on top of me and pushed his lips against mine just as Michael opened the door.

“Dude!’ Steven called and pulled the covers over us as he fell on his back next to me. “Dude, we can hear you, that’s so gross. You two are-” Michael started. “Well, you can just take your hangout somewhere else, Kelso” i said, throwing the first thing I could grab in his face. It was my shirt. “Yeah, we are kind of in the middle, man” Hyde said. The moment Kelso left, Hyde and I started laughing like crazy.

“That was..” i said as he got up. “Yeah, i’m so good” he said, mimicking my breathless voice. “K, give me my shirt back” i said, trying not to look at his bare chest, and not luckily, he was already putting on his shirt.  He went up to the door. “Kelso took it” Hyde said, grining. “Well, shit” I sighed, but he had a solution. “Take this” he said, and tossed me a Led Zeppelin shirt. “Thank you, lover boy” I said, staying under the covers. He looked at me, waiting. “Well, turn around, creep” i said, laughing. “As your boyfriend-” he started, but gave up when his eyes met mine, “fine”. He turned around, allowing me to put on his shirt. “You can look now” I said, fixing the shirt. “How do i look?” I asked. “So hot, buttercup” he replied, smirking and wrapping his hands around my waist and kissing me, forgetting that we are not actually dating. “Hyde, we need to break up” the words slip out of my mouth.

“what ? why?” he asked, “i mean, this is the best prank i ever pulled, and the most enjoyable” he said, his lips stretch into his familiar smirk. “Because-” i tried, but couldn’t come up with a good reason other than the truth. “I mean, you have to admit it’s fun” he said, his hands still around my waist. “Well, yeah, but not for the reason you think” i say, and the confused look in his eyes hurts me. “I- Hyde, this is.. Look, I know you’re sleeping around and that’s gonna blow our cover ``I finally find an answer, “you don’t want your friends to think you’re a cheater”. He looked even more confused. “(y\n), i haven’t touched any other girl since we started... this” he replies, pointing at me and at him. “But i saw you-” I insisted. “I couldn’t, every single time” he admits. Taking the sunglasses resting on his cabinet and putting them on. “Why would you do that? You really expect me to think a horny teenager gave up making out, possibly more, with really hot girls because of what? He’s fake dating a random girl?” I laugh sadly. “No, god, (y\n), you are not some random girl” he says, resting his hands on my arms. “Why-” “because i love you!”.

I don’t know who was more surprised at his words - him or me. We stayed quiet. “Are you- are you gonna say anything?” he broke the silence. “How about i’ll do something instead?” i said, taking a step closer to him. As I moved closer, I placed my hands around his neck. “What are yo-” he tried to ask, but I pulled myself up and connected our lips. Even though we kissed before, this time it was different. His lips moved against mine in a mix of relife, passion and love. He tasted like mint, orange flavoured popsicle and weed. “I forgot to mention, I love you too” I said, breaking the kiss. “Whatever man” he said, re-connecting our lips.

[ejm513]

ON SOKKA, TOPH, LIN AND SU’YIN

EDITED  BECAUSE I WROTE THIS AT ALMOST 10:00 PM WHEN I HAD TO GET UP AT SIX IN THE MORNING BUT I JUST WNATED TO WRITE SOMETHING TO GET MY BASIC IDEAS OUT BECAUSE I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP IF I DIDN’T. DID I MENTION I’M NOT THE SMARTEST PERSON?

Hello my lovelies! So I finally got my act together and watched Avatar The Last Airbender and…

Yeah, I don’t know what was wrong with me when I was a child. It just wasn’t my cup of tea. But at this point in my life it is quite possibly one of the best shows I’ve ever watched and is now one of my favorite shows.

In fact I’m re-watching after finishing my first binge about a week or two ago.

Theirs is so much to discuss not just with Avatar but with The Legend of Kora (I’m in the middle of season three… I like it a lot but I’m just having a harder time getting through it. I’ll probably wait to finish it until it comes to Netflix). What I want to focus on is Sokka, Toph, Lin and Su’yin.

Because if there’s nothing I love more than family, babies, children and family drama.

I mean seriously that’s literally what everything I write is about.

I don’t have a problem not at all.....

So you can imagine as soon I heard there was a theory that Su’yin may or may not be Toph and Sokka’s daughter my imagination and excitement went in overdrive, because even though I adore Sokka and Suki I always thought there was SOMETHING between the two of them. It’s clear in Avatar that Toph has a crush on Sokka which I mean can we blame her?

While it doesn’t appear Sokka has any romantic interest at that time, he is extremely caring and protective of Toph. It’s not impossible to see their relationship maybe not deepening into love but becoming something more than simple friendship and becoming physical.

But what evidence is there that Su’yin is Sokka and Toph’s daughter? Just because it’s a nice idea doesn’t mean it’s true.

Well it turns out there is some substantial evidence to back it up.

First of all there is Su’Yins coloring.

Now that doesn’t necessarily point to anything. But it is interesting to note that her skin coloring is the same as those in the water tribe, who tend to have darker skin tones. 

On top of that there is a physical resemblance between her and Sokka. 

And then... there is this... 

This is Baatar Jr., Su’Yins oldest child. Sure he does look a lot like his father

But I would argue he looks even more like Sokka. It’s kind of eerie how similar they look and I don’t think the animators and show creators would do something like that unintentionally-especially in a show like this.

Then you need to factor the personality similarities-Su’Yin’s sarcasm, leadership abilities, her devotion to family above all else. It all rings very familiar. 

I personally lean more towards the side of this theory being true, but there are some arguments to be made against it. 

The biggest argument is that Sokka would never be an absentee father. It’s just not in his nature. We know that both Lin and Su’Yin’s fathers were both absent and not a part of their lives. 

And then we have to factor in Sukki and what happened to her. 

Well here’s what I think could have happened. 

There’s another theory going around that Sukki died young in some sort of battle. It would make sense to a certain extent given what she does. I’m going to lean in on that theory, but it is highly possible that their relationship just didn’t last. After all they were young and the hard truth is statically the majority of young relationships don’t last. These seem to be the most probable explanations, as we know jack shit about what happened to Sukki. 

Lin’s father was a man named Kanto. The jerk left for whatever reason-maybe the pair got in a huge fight, maybe he just didn’t want a child or couldn’t handle the responsibility of being a parent. Basically we can assume he was a dead beat who honestly doesn’t even deserve such an amazing life partner as Toph and amazing child as Lin. 

 I don’t doubt for a second Sokka stepped in as a father like figure of Lin and thus they would be spending quiet of bit of time together. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say Sokka would be a top notch father figure with Lin-funny, creative, and surprisingly gentle and tender. Lin being Lin would probably act like her mother-all strong, tough and independent. But secretly she loves the doting and gets very upset when he has to go. 

So as you can imagine Toph and Sokka are spending quite a bit of time together. Toph is enamored by Sokka and how great he is with Lin. Her old crush is beginning to bubble up and maybe turning into something more. If we go off the theory that Sukki died young or their relationship just naturally ran it’s course he’s probably been enjoying female company that isn’t his sister or anyone on the council. They’re both grown adults who are single who have a very deep connection and have probably been lonely so it’s not out of the question that they uh.., well... you know. 

Now I don’t think they would necessarily end up in a serious relationship for various reasons. Toph is to hell bent on her freedom and independence to truly settle down in a serious relationship, and Sokka has probably been through to much bad luck with relationships to want to truly get invested... even if it is Toph and he low key loves her and Toph’s heart flutters every time she’s with him.

Correct me if I'm wrong but it is cannon that Toph has had her fair share of sexual partners, which I would like to state for the record there is nothing wrong with. So it’s possible Sokka wasn’t the only person she slept with. So when she became pregnant it’s entirely possible she wouldn’t know for certain who the father is. Now obviously when Sokka finds out he would probably demand to know if he’s the father her being blunt would say something along the lines of 

“I’m not sure who it is Snoozle’s, and I’m never really gonna know because I won't be able to see the kid. Besides it doesn’t matter who the father is I don’t need any help.” 

So for nine months Sokka is sitting on pins and needles waiting to know the truth. When the baby finally comes and he sees her it’s... it’s pretty obvious. Though she’ll never say it out loud, Toph can tell just by feeling her facial features. 

Now there’s a problem. Even though she doesn’t neccasrily want to keep him away from his child Toph being... well... Toph... still insist that she doesn’t need any help. More over she doesn’t want to cause Lin any resentment, confusion or pain by Su’yin having her father around but her’s is gone. 

Besides there’s the whole issue of him being a member of the council and her being the chief of police... I could see their relationship causing a controversy and or scandal that no one wants. 

Sokka on the other hand wants to obviously not just be apart of his biological child’s life but Lin’s life-as Lin has basically become his child as well. And in reality Toph knows she can’t stop him, moreover  as stated earlier she is not heartless and doesn’t necessarily want to keep Sokka away from his daughter. So they come up with compromise. 

He’ll continue acting as a father figure, but he will be nothing more than Uncle Sokka. He goes along with it so he can still see both of his girls and be a part of their lives. 

He spends more time at Toph’s home than his own. He helps Lin with her homework and happily plays and cuddles with Su’yin. He helps makes sure they go to bed at a decent time (while under the guise giving them all the freedom Toph wants them to have). At first Sokka will sleep on the couch, but slowly but surely the pair end up sleeping in the same bed and living as a couple... just in the safety of those four walls. 

It’s a bit of an open secret between Team Avatar and company-especially Katara because she would know the truth from the second she laid eyes on the child. But out of respect for Toph and the delicate balance they created no one says a word-especially because I can imagine Sokka is gone a good portion of the time with his various duties. 

I’m not one who subscribes to the fact he dies protecting the new avatar Kora, because it is cannon that he helped put members of the Red Lotus in jail. What I do think is he passed before ever getting to tell Su’Yin the truth. And Toph realizes she messed up and it’s most likely her one biggest regret. In the end I don’t think she would say a word to anyone about the truth until she is on her death bed... because she is just that pig headed and stubborn. 

So that is how I think everything could have possibly panned out... and don’t be shocked if I end up writing a fan fic about this! I also hope to write a post examining Aang and Katara and their children because once again I love children and family and family drama and there is a lot that too. 

Also might I add it’s so endearing and sweet that Zuko-the character who had the most toxic, abusive and fucked up family had, by all appearance, the happiest family with the least amount of drama. 

God.

Bless. 

It.

[sonnetthebard]

if it's not too much to ask, could i request a continuation to the jane/linda switched at birth story? 😅

Absolutely! Y'all really like this, don't you?

Genre: Drama/ Fluff?

Words: 1588

TL;DR: Linda accidentally ends up telling Emma about he and Jane being switched at birth

TW: Swearing

Side note: if anyone has ideas/ sketches to elaborate on this headcanon... please do them and tag me. I wanna see them. I mean I’m kinda loving it.

______________________________________________________

Linda sipped at her coffee, sitting at one of the small tables in Beanies. She let her legs dangle a bit, blowing on her coffee to close it. For once it was piping hot. That probaby had something to do with the fact that she was now rather close with Emma Perkins, the barista who had made it. Jane's sister- her sister. And god, could she ever see it. How could her sister ever work in a cafe though? The cafe had technically closed about five minutes ago, but... the manager, Nora, was letting her and Emma Perkins stay a bit longer to have a chat alone. Emma sighed, bringing over her latte and siitting down with Linda.

"Your coffee okay?" Emma checked. "I know the coffee here isn't too great, but... I tried to make it a bit better. I put a pump of hazelnut in there, and-"

"It's wonderful. Thank you." Linda cut her off, sighing. "Was it a good day at work today?"

"Eh, same old same old." Emma chuckled. "People are assholes sometimes."

"Tell me about it." Linda scoffed, smirking. "Any fun stories?"

"Well... this one guy tried to actually make me *sing* for my tip." Emma rolled her eyes. "Because Nora mentioned while he as at the counter that she'd seen a cafe in god-knows-where doing it."

"Did you actally have to sing?" Linda winced.

"God, no." Emma snickered. "Listen, it's no official rule yet. There's no sign, and therefore Nora can't make me."

"Thank god." Linda laughed along with her.

"Hey!" Emma mocked offence. "I'll have you know that I'm a pretty great singer!"

"Really?" Linda quirked a brow, smirking.

"Oh yeah! I played Fiona in my high school production of Brigadoon." Emma smirked back, putting on the scottish accent for 'Brigadoon'. "I'm not really into theatre any more, but... I fucking killed that role."

"Interesting..." Linda sighed, just taking a look at Emma again.

Sometimes when Emma brought up these significant memories Linda couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. Because... she was this girl's older sister. She should have been there toshare those kinds of important moments with her. Not... not phony Jane Perkins. Who wasn't her sister. She liked Emma. A lot. Sure, Emma's life might be a bit grittier than her own, but... they had the same spunk. The same wit. Emma's was slightly less refined, and maybe a bit more crude, but it was there. In a lot of ways, it was like looking in a mirror. Both in looks and personality. That was, of course, if she had been a brunette.

"Hey, Linda, I've been meaning to ask you something." Emma bit her lip.

"Hm?" Linda hummed, indicating for her to go on.

"Why... why the sudden interest in me?" Emma asked carefully. "I mean, not that I don't love getting to actually get to know you- because you're great- but... I don't know. You're... you. You're rich, and your life is fabulous. And I'm me. A thirty-year-old barista at fucking Beanies."

"Well... I suppose I just felt drawn to you." Linda lied.

"Okay, no offence, but... bullshit." Emma sighed. "That's total bullshit! There's gotta be a reason."

"I simply noticed you at work, and... you reminded me of myself." Linda told her, inching closer to the truth.

"Really?" Emma blinked.

"You did... and you do. More and more with every second I spend with you." Linda nodded.

"But like... I know I'm repeating myself, but you're, like, fabulous. And I'm... me." Emma furrowed her brows.

"We've got the same spirit." Linda chuckled. "The same... spunk, if you will. The fire, and the sarcasm. We're peas in a pod."

"Is the sarcasm really that obvious just by looking at me?" Emma smirked.

"In the best way possible." Linda teased. There was a beat of silence between them as both sipped at their coffees.

"So... there was nothing more?" Emma checked.

"No... no, only that you're my sister." Linda sighed. A moment later she realized what she'd said.

"Pardon?" Emma blinked.

"I meant soul sister... sorry, it’s been a long day.” Linda chuckled nervously, hoping that would work.

"Okay, I would've believed that if you hadn't said anything, but... now that you've said it, it sounds so sketchy." Emma shook her head, stunned and suspicious. "What do you mean I'm your sister?"

"It's nothing. I misspoke." Linda blushed, looking to her feet.

"You're lying." Emma stated plainly. "I'm a little sister and a trouble maker. I read body language."

"Emma..." Linda pleaded, a pit in her stomach. She'd never meant to tell Emma. She had planned never to tell any of them.

"No, Linda. I want some fucking aswers." Emma demanded.

"No, you don't." Linda warned her. "Believe me... things will be a lot better if you just forget what I said.”

“No... Linda, you just called me your sister and then completely eliminated the ‘she’s jus being friendly’ context from the situation.” Emma stammered, clearly freaked out. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Fine.” Linda relented. “I didn’t want to tell you because... it’s fucked up, Emma. It really is. And it’s nothing I did, but... I still feel immensely guilty.”

“Just get to the fucking explanation!” Emma urged. 

“My parents- the people who raised me- paid a nurse off to switch me and your sister as babies... It was silly, really. They wanted a natural blonde baby.” Linda sighed. “All of that to say... Jane was never your biological sister. I was.”

“What the fuck...” Emma breathed, eyes wide. 

“That’s what I said when I read it in their financial files.” Linda sighed. She gave Emma a sympathetic look. “Now do you see why I didn’t want to say anything?”

“Um... yeah.” Emma nodded, still trying to take it in. “You’re my sister?”

“We can’t tell anyone, Emma.” Linda warned her. 

"Right...” Emma agreed. 

“It would cause too much of a fuss.” Linda sighed.

“Yeah...” Emma sighed. “So... what, did you start up this friendship because you felt guilty that your parents were heartless assholes who dumped their problem on my parents?”

“No. I did it because... if I had a sister, I wanted to know her. Even if she couldn’t know what she was to me.” Linda explained. “But... now you do, I suppose.”

“Yeah... I do...” Emma blinked. 

“Please... don’t be too mad at me?” Linda pleaded. “I genuinely just wanted to-”

“No, I’m not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.” Emma assured Linda. “Just... God. I always knew there was something fucking weird about Jane.”

“Really?” Linda quirked a brow. 

“Yeah... yeah, not even my parents understood where she got all the ambition and cunning from.” Emma nodded. “She was like... a total Slytherin. And I was very clearly a burnt-out Gryffindor. I mean, I’ve gone a little more Slytherin with my sarcasm over the years, but...”

“I’m sorry, a what?” Linda asked, confused. “Slithering?”

“Like... Hogwarts houses.” Emma checked. Linda stared blankly at her. “Oh my god... tell me my big sister knows what Hogwarts is...”

“I’m...” Linda started, before blinking. “Big sister?”

“Well, yeah... if you were switched with Jane, you’re my big sister.” Emma shrugged. 

“So... we’re alright, then?” Linda blinked. “Just like that?”

“Well... yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Emma chuckled. “Look, it’s a lot to get used to, but... you’ve pretty much handled everything right. And... I really appreciate that once you found out, you wanted me in your life.”

“And I want you to know that I really did make an effort to get to know you right when I found out.” Linda assured her. “I only discoved it when I was going through my parents’ financials while planning their funeral.”

“Yeah, I can get why they would never tell you.” Emma sighed. “I mean... god. That was terrible. No offence but... they kinda sound like terrible people.”

“Well... just like Jane, they were very ambitious.” Linda bit her lip. “And they had a weird thing about keeping the blonde hair in the family.”

“They sound like the Malfoys.” Emma whistled. 

“The who?” Linda asked, not recognizing that name.

“Right. You don’t know Harry Potter.” Emma remembered. “Okay, you know what? I think Paul’s at D&D with the boys from work tonight, so I’ve got the house to myself. You should come over, and we’ll watch as many of those movies as we can cram in.”

“Oh... okay.” Linda agreed. “Harry Potter... that sounds familiar.”

“It’s kinda a huge thing.” Emma chuckled. “You’re free, right?”

“Gerald’s taking the boys night golfing tonight, so yes.” Linda smirked. “Is this going to make me finally seem like a cool mom to my boys?”

“Probably.” Emma smirked back. “Alright... do you need a drive to my place?”

“I would appreciate one.” Linda nodded, following Emma out the door. 

Perhaps that day staying late at a mediocre coffee shop had been the start of something beautiful. Or perhaps it had already started before. It was, at least, the day that Linda and Emma fully embreaced their sisterhood. And it really was only the beginning of their story. They would continue to blossom and grow together, and navigate what whas a confusing but worthwhile journey. It’s funny how sometimes you don’t know how much you need something until it’s handed to you. That sentiment couldn’t be any truer than it was with the two new sisters. Emma was precisely what Linda had always needed, and Linda what Emma needed. Finally, at long last, they could embrace that. 

[samanthadalton]

Can you write fanfic ina x mc, mc teach ina how to cook? Your works are great💖 Thank you❣️

aww thank you anon for this idea i really loved it 🥺🥺

parings: Ina x mc (Bea)

warnings: implied sex but mostly just fluff i guess

taglist: @cloud9in

word count: 2.2k 😬 i got carried away

(if there any mistakes i’ll fix it later)

A recipe for disaster

After the convention, things between you and Ina couldn’t have been better. Even though your relationship was hidden from everyone else, Ina finally stopped closing herself off and pushing you away and you couldn’t be happier. You and Ina stole moments after class, where you would stay behind to help ‘clean up’ or moments in her office where you would do anything but work.

One day you randomly decided to teach Ina how to cook since the first time resulted in her totally butchering your ‘I’m sorry you had a crazy stalker dinner’ by letting the sauce of the pasta explode on her. You texted Ina, ‘‼️EMERGENCY COME TO MY DORM‼️’ and never had Ina run so fast in her life, throwing all her papers to the floor in her office, and dashing to your dorm worried that it was another Benji situation. How she managed to get there undetected by the other students is a complete mystery as when she approached the door of your dorm she banged heavily screaming out your name.

You rush towards the door and swing it open to find a wide eyed Ina, her hair slightly ruffled, sweat marginally glistening on her forehead, and her breaths heavy. Before you can speak, she barges into the room,, “So.. what’s.. the .. emergency?” She takes a quick breath between each word as she frantically looks around your dorm room until you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Jesus Ina, I don’t think the whole dorm heard you shouting my name, why don’t you scream louder?” your voice dripping with sarcasm with a hint of playfulness. Ina turns to face you and sees your eyes gleaming with admiration as flustered Ina is incredibly cute. Ina slightly frowns and closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. “Bea… is there an emergency or not?”

You guilty stare down at the floor, “well, um not exactly the kind of emergency you’re thinking, but i swear it’s important” you pick your head back up to look at Ina who is massaging her temples with her fingers, “dammit Bea I literally ditched my grading and ran here, what if someone saw me?” she continues to berate you as she goes on about her publisher and her deadlines but stops talking when you slide a finger seductively down her arm.

“I’m sorry Ina” you pout a little giving your best puppy dog eyes look and lean in to whisper in the shell of her ear, “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

Ina’s breathing shakes a little as you nibble on her earlobe and she places her hands and your hips and pushes you back slightly to meet her eyes which look less angry and more turned on and she completely ditches her earlier rant, “hmm, what were you thinking?”

Okay she definitely wants to do it right here right now but you mentally remind yourself that you’re on a mission to teach Ina how to cook so you place your thumb on her lower lip and begin to trace the outline of it, “well I was thinking of teaching you a lesson”

Ina perks up at the word “lesson” and you forget that she is wayyy too kinky for her own good. Her eyebrow raises a little and the grip on your waist tightens as her voice drops to a low murmur, “what kind of lesson?”

You lean in slightly teasing her as your breath ghosts above her lips, “a..... cooking lesson” you move your head back and take in Ina’s slightly disappointed but confused look.

“Bea, uh may I remind you of the last time I tried to cook, it didn’t end up so well”

“Well I remember getting you half naked and getting a massage so” Ina sighs heavily and before she can speak, because knowing Ina she’s probably against the idea of a cooking lesson you carry on speaking, “look I know what you’re gonna say and please, do it for me,” You once again pout your lips and stare at Ina hoping she falls prey to your charms as she usually does, “I’ll be guiding you the entire time,” you turn to face the kitchen counter and raise your arm to point at the ingredients placed upon it, something Ina definitely didn’t notice when she first came in. “Pleaseeeee Ina i’ve literally been planning this and it will be so cute.”

“And how exactly would it be cute?”

“I don’t know, i guess fulfilling a domestic fantasy of mine, cooking alongside the person i’m with while we spoon feed each other and all that romantic stuff”

Ina softy sighs and gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek, “fine but don’t blame me when this all goes south, I told you my kitchen skills are abysmal”

You laugh and being to tug her arm towards the kitchen and you place a cute blue apron around Ina’s head and move behind her to tie it up, “Just a precaution, we don’t want a repeat of last time”. Ina playfully swats at your arm and grins, “so what are we making?”

“My favourite comfort food ever, lasagna. My mom used to make it for me all the time back at home especially during times when I wasn’t feeling well or wasn’t having a good day. Lasagna always cheers me up. Well that and pizza.”

Ina stares at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world and then takes one of your hands in hers, “well I’m honoured you’re teaching me to make it, I hope I do it justice.”

You being to prep Ina on the basics of lasagna telling her “it’s all about the layers and cheese. Cheese is the most important part of this dish”.

You start by washing the minced meat as Ina begins to dice carrots, mushrooms, onions, and defrosts peas and sweet corn before washing them all and placing it in a bowl.

“Okay so we gotta cook the meat and the vegetables for a while and then we are going to add in the seasonings and the sauce and let it cook” you stifle a laugh, “make sure to not get it on yourself this time”.

Ina gives out a hearty laugh and shakes her head, “God i’m so embarrassed by that but you better watch out for when I become a culinary master”. She flourishes her arms a little and you retort, “not really a master when you can’t cook pasta”. She laughs and pinches some cheese from one of the bowls and flicks it at you.

You barely manage to dodge it, and your eyes glimmer devishly, “Oh it’s on now”. You and Ina begin to throw cheese at each other until Ina grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers before pulling you towards her, “I didn’t give you a proper thank you for teaching me how to cook” she kisses you sweetly on your lips.

“Well it’s pretty obvious you need to learn, and if we’re going to be together then you need to know how to cook my favourite comfort food at least”.

Ina intensely stares at you, her eyes full of desire and longing, she kisses you again, harder than the last one and the passion between the two of you quickly builds until you’re interrupted by the clanging on the lid against the pot as the water begins to bubble out of it.

“Crap” you quickly move toward the stove turning the heat down a little to let the meat simmer and then dramatically swipe your hand against your forehead, “that would’ve been a disaster, come on stop distracting me, you’re gonna let the food burn”.

“I’m sure the head chef isn’t easily distracted by a few kisses huh?” Ina moves towards you, pulling into another kiss. You indulge in it for a few more moments before pulling away, “nice try but I’ll make sure you know how to cook lasagna even if it’s the last thing I do” you push Ina back a little and she simply smiles.

.....

The two of you carry on cooking the meat and soon it’s time for you to begin layering the lasagna to get it ready for the oven.

“Okay like I said before it’s all about the layers” you give Ina a little demonstration, placing the pasta sheets next to each other before adding some white sauce and cheese and then repeating the step differentiating between using the red and white sauce.

Ina’s fully focused at the task at hand, attempting to perfect the “art of layering” as she called it placing the sauce and cheese in precise places until it’s ready to be put into the oven.

You grab the oven gloves and place the tray inside before closing the over door and turning to Ina, “and that’s pretty much it, it just needs to cook so we can relax for the next 45 minutes”.

Ina groans happily as she slides onto the couch and you pour two glasses of wine and make your way to the living room and give one glass to Ina before settling on the couch yourself.

“Cooking isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, in fact it’s kind of relaxing” Ina takes a small sip of her wine and you can’t help but just stare at her features, her sleeves are rolled up and small drops of sweat glisten on her face, most likely from withstanding the heat from the kitchen. Her lips are curled up in a small smile as she grips her wine glass.

“You’re a natural professor, it makes me wonder if there’s anything you can’t do” You pluck the glass from her hand and place both on the table in front of you and then you move to straddle her.

Ina runs her hands up and down your sides drinking in your demeanour as she tugs the front on your top down and whispers in your ear, “Well right now I want to do you.” She sharply inhales before clearing her throat, “I admit that sounded better in my head than out loud”. You laugh and kiss Ina indulging in her desires as she releases all the pent up sexual tension between the two of you that occurred while you were cooking.

....

A little while later you stand and move towards the hall, “I really gotta go to the bathroom so if the timer goes off Ina just take the tray out of the oven and place it on the stove okay?”

Ina gives you a nod as you go into the bathroom. Not a second later the timer beeps and Ina gets up to take out the lasagna.

While you’re washing your hands you hear a loud clang and you quickly dry your hands and run towards the kitchen. You stop in your tracks when you see Ina kneeling on the floor with the tray of lasagna flipped upside beside her knees while some of it’s contents have splattered all over the floor and somehow on the bottom drawers too.

You bring a hand up to your mouth to cover your gawking while Ina stares devastatingly at the food in front of her, “Bea I am terribly sorry, I didn’t realise how heavy it was and it slipped out of my hands, i-“

You move towards Ina and kneel beside her slipping the oven mitts off her hands, tears glisten in her eyes and you can’t help but giggle a little, “Wow Ina, I mean I knew you were bad at cooking I just didn’t realise you were this bad, I mean the food was practically ready”. You joking tone helps to alleviate some of the worry on Ina’s face but she looks down at the ground again and sighs.

“Hey, I was just kidding Ina seriously it’s okay” you place two fingers under her chin and lift her head to meet your gaze, “seriously I don’t care about the lasagna, I mean we had fun making it didn’t we?”

“Yes I suppose we did. I just wish we were able to enjoy the fruits of our labour.”

You give Ina a quick peck on her lips and whisper, “well how about we order in a pizza and then we can start cleaning up this mess?”. Ina lets out a small laugh, “Well ordering pizza, that I can do without fail”.

You manage to clean up every precipice of the kitchen that was covered in sauce and then you and Ina cuddle up beside each other enjoying your pizza while you put on a random movie to watch.

“I am sorry I messed it up Bea, if I had correctly estimated the heaviness of the tray then I could’ve-

You cut her off with a kiss which she happily returns, you break the kiss and place your forehead against hers, as your eyes bore into hers, “Ina seriously it’s okay, I had fun with you this afternoon and that’s all that matters, maybe next time we’ll do something less complex like burgers?”

You both smile and settle into the couch enjoying both the pizza and each other’s company.

[thefanficmonster]

My Warrior

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: !Spoilers!, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: They have all made it out of there. They’re safe from the real horrors, but the scenes that have been imbedded into their minds keep haunting them. They are left with scars to their subconscious as well as scars on their skin. Marks to remind them of what they went through. What they survived. Taylor can’t stand them - the burn marks on her skin and the scars that night left on her. She’s struggling way more than she’d like to admit. But there’s someone who sees through her toughness.

Requested by @chairtiger Hello there my chaotic co-cult leader! Sorry to be posting your request so late 👉👈 hope you understand and forgive me for the long wait. I had a blast writing the fic and I hope you enjoy reading it. Anyway...SHIP DAYLOR FOR CLEAR SKIN EVERYONE...Love, Vy ❤

“Fucking hell, this is torture.“ Taylor groans as she runs a make-up wipe over her foundation-covered, bruised skin. Underneath all those layers of foundations are the marks she’s been so desperate to hide - the reminders of that night. That monstrosity that wanted her dead and wasn’t gonna stop at anything to make that happen.

But it didn’t happen She tells herself, I’m here, aren’t I?

She’s happy to have gotten out of there with her life as well as all her friends, but the feeling of the constant presence of that night’s memories weighing on her mind, and thanks to the marks on her skin as well, she has a hard time accepting that she was indeed lucky. Some fucking luck. If she were lucky she wouldn’t have even ended up in that predicament. But she did and it has taken a bite out of her sanity and will haunt her for good, physically and mentally. No doubt about it.

The first place they all went to after their return was a hospital. Scrapes and bruises and some open wounds along with Andrew’s concussion were the main of the physical injuries. No broken bones or anything permanent, thank God. 

Well, almost nothing permanent. 

Taylor had seen the looks the nurses and the doctor gave her when they saw the state of her skin - much like the others she had bruises and scratches here and there, the most serious of which still had dried blood on them. However, unlike the rest of the group, she’d be left with the burn marks for as long as the memories - forever. Of course, that’s not what the doctor told her, not directly, at least. He said to give them time and some treatment that wasn’t completely sure to work. She knew what that meant - “Be ready to spend the rest of your life like this or in covering it up.”

It’s been one month since that horrible night. One month of treatment for her skin. Lotions, creams, cleansers, foundation. Nothing has worked. She spends an hour going through the process of covering the marks up and an hour taking all that foundation off. No one has commented on them which may be either because she covers them well enough or they simply don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t care what others think of them, people’s opinions never bother her on any ground. The war she has with these burn marks is personal and has all to do with an event she wants to let go of and move on from. As if her nightmares aren’t enough, she also has to deal with flashbacks every time she looks in the mirror.

She hasn’t expressed her frustration to anyone. She has managed to hide it as well as the bruises themselves. It’s Taylor after all, she’s good at putting on an act so no one can read her. But, because it is indeed her, she’s not used to keeping her anger in. She feels like a ticking timed bomb. A bubble with tender, delicate walls that could burst at any moment. And God help the person who she bursts in front of. She’s never held her composure this long, she doesn’t know what will even happen if she lets go.

Now, looking in the mirror, about to take off her foundation and apply the new lotion the doctor prescribed her, she feels as fragile as ever. She’s feeling the lack of sleep more than ever as well as the pain of her tensed muscles that never seem to relax anymore. She doesn’t feel mentally prepared to go through the process of taking off the cover-up. She never feels ready, it always takes a toll on her on mentally, emotionally and even physically. She always feels so tired afterwards, so drained. Maybe because she always expects to see a difference when the foundation comes off. There never is, nothing but disappointment.

Today has been extra hard for her. Her mind has never been hazier from the lack of sleep. Her thoughts are all over the place, none of them clear. Her body’s almost shutting down. She feels like a ghost of herself. Like the real her is in a different location. Probably still stuck in Little Hope.

The foundation’s off, the same sight meets her, mocking her from the mirror. And that’s the snapping point she’s been dreading for a month now. She reaches for the new lotion she picked up on her way home.

“Useless piece of shit!“ she chucks it to the other end of the bathroom. The bottle is unharmed, it just hits the tiled floor with a loud thud. She however is in pieces, also dropping on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees tucked close to her chest, hiding her face between them, sobbing her heart out. It’s certainly a freeing feeling, but it only exhausts her more.

“Hey T...Taylor, what’s wrong?“ She hears the familiar voice and goes silent but does not dare lift her head, especially not now that her cover-up is off her, the burn marks on display. She remains sitting on the ground, face hidden from his sight.

Daniel feels her heart sink at the sight of the most important person in his life being at a low point like this one. He feels guilty for not taking action sooner. He saw the signs, the red flags in the form of fake empty smile, lack of sarcasm, colorless cheeks, eyebags, red eyes. Lack of Taylor, she was nowhere to be seen. She was far from the person he’s used to knowing and seeing every day. Knowing her, he expected prying to be a bad move but now he wishes he’d done it sooner. On time. Before she could crash like this.

“Do you know how to knock?” Her weak attempt at putting her tough act back on slips through the cracks in her voice.

Daniel is by her side asap, kneeling on the ground in front of her. “T, come on, don’t do this. Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She knows better than to hide from Daniel. He know her too well. She trusts him too much. So, despite her previous determination not to let him in on the fact that she’s now a product of that night, she raises her head, resting her chin on her knee, still avoiding his gaze though. He doesn’t bat an eye though. 

Can he really not see what’s bothering me? It’s very fucking obvious

“I- I just feel like I can’t do this, you know. I can’t be fine like the rest of you. You’ve all moved on. And here I am with nightmares like a preschooler and these ugly things all over my skin. That night will permanently hold onto me, Daniel. I can never let it go if I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror.“ Her gaze travels to the lotion bottle on the an arm’s reach away. “I can empty as many of these bottles as I feel like, they never help. The doctor says they maybe would, big emphasis on the ‘maybe’ but, spoiler alert: they never do. I wish they’d stop stringing me along, every failed attempt is a hard-to-swallow disappointment.“ She chuckles humorlessly when Daniel takes the bottle from her, “And then there’s always the casually mentioned risk of it making them worse rather than better. You know, casually. Like, yeah this will either help you or fuck you up even worse.“ She ends the rant with a sigh, almost feeling like herself again.

Daniel sees it too, the fire in her eyes is fighting to light again. She’s so angry and yet she can’t express it to anyone. Anyone by him apparently. 

“So, you’re not gonna give it a shot?“ She shakes her head, “But what if it helps?“

“What if it makes it worse?“ She automatically replies, hugging her knees closer

“Let it be your last go. If it doesn’t do anything, or God forbid makes things worse, it’s on me. I owe you whatever you want. I know that’s nothing in comparison to what you’ll be dealing with, but...“ Sensing a speech is on its way, Taylor holds her hand up, shaking her head.

“Alright, spare me Mr. I-Don’t-Take-Medicine-Unless-I’m-On-My-Death-Bed. Give me the lotion.“

He shakes his head, stands up and takes hold of the hand she has outstretched instead. “Nah-ah, let me help.” The skeptical and downright humoring look she gives him when she stands to her feet almost makes him frown. “What? I’m not clueless, T. I know a think or two about skin care. You think this all came naturally?” He motions at himself cockily, stealing a genuine laugh from her.

“I knew nature couldn’t fuck up that badly. I suspected you had something to do with it.“ She narrows her eyes, meeting his also narrow-eyed gaze, both in on the fact that the other is messing around.

“Your skin is at my mercy. I wouldn’t talk smack if I were you.“ He playfully warns her, waving the lotion bottle in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah whatever you say, tough guy.“ She opens a drawer under the sink and throws him a box of cotton pads.

Not wasting any time in fear she might change her mind, Daniel takes one pad out and puts a few drops of the lotion on it. He hesitantly brings it closer to the skin on the side of her neck while she stands as still as a statue, not breathing either. Despite all the bold talk, he’s still nervous. He really hopes this miracle liquid of chemicals works, solely because it will make Taylor happy. And to him, her happiness is all that matters.

She shudders when the cold, damp cotton pad makes contact with her skin and he immediately feels the need to apologize. Instead, however, he goes on to tell her exactly what’s on his mind, cause he knows there’ll never be a better time.

“What you call a reminder of that night, the horrors we endured, I see it differently...“ he trails off, looking at her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. “I see it as proof that we’re stronger than we know. And you, T...are the strongest of us all. Any of these scars could have been a lethal would but here you are, alive. And no, I’m not trying to say you’re lucky. None of us are. Lord knows what kind of fucked up luck we posses, but it ain’t right. No, you are brave. You went through it and fought to leave the battle with scars instead of dropping to the ground with a wound that is irredeemable. You’re a warrior, Taylor.” He pauses for a second and so do the movements of his hand. He hesitantly inhales before saying the last sentence he’s been holding back, “My warrior.” 

Taylor tilts her head to look at him, genuine surprise and warmth in her eyes. She’s baffled. Pleasantly caught off-guard by words she never thought she’d hear, let alone trust. She covers all this up with a smirk. Classic Taylor. “You weren’t really a pansy back there either, Dan.” She gently bumps his shoulder with hers.

His eyes narrow again. “I hate that nickn-“ It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence cause her lips are already on his, preventing him from ranting about...whatever he was about to go off about.

You know what they say: If you don’t finish saying it, it was never meant to be said in the first place. 

@artlovingbre  @megandaisy9  @sparrow-gg​

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 26

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader Content: A sort of calm before the storm. No proof reading at all. A/N: Hey! So, GISH happened. And I’ve returned to work but under special conditions, thankfully. Also I might be very distracted from this fic due to a new hyper fixation – blame my husband for that! Ask or re-blog for tag.

26. Cupid Carries a Gun

...   Reader    ...

The word pissed does not even begin to describe what you’re feeling but at least you have the satisfaction of the weather matching your anger. Sitting in the queen’s parlour in the middle of the day, it has still been necessary to light candles all around while the dark storm outside pelts the windows with rain. Now and then a flash proceeds a roll of thunder, making you wonder if bad weather in Asgard are just a thing of nature or if it always requires Thor to be busy. Mostly though, you curse Loki.

“Where’s your mind at?” A book taps you lightly on top of your head, calling you back to the present.

“My apologies, your highness,” you mumble. Man, I gotta be such a disappointment right now.

Whatever she might think or not, the woman smiles sweetly as she puts the books and parchments away. “Perchance it would soothe your troubled mind if you told me what is wrong?” She stops your protests with a graceful hand. “What has he done this time?”

“...uhm?”

“My son. Over the years, I’ve had to deal with many whom he’s vexed. Mostly Thor, of course...” For a moment Frigga is the one lost in past events. “So...let me hear it.”

I can really, really NOT tell her that! Heat rises in your cheeks, possibly blocking your airways to prevent any words from escaping. “Nonono, it’s okay! Really! There’s no need -”

“Ah, I see...it’s what he didn’t do...”

I need to change the focus of this conversation! “He uhm he magicked me to sleep!”

A devilish smirk graces the queen’s face. “Do you want to get even or do you want to prevent it from happening again?”

“Both?” If that’s an option.

“Fortunately for you, this distraction is well timed. As you know, none of the lore and theoretical works I’ve procured has been of much use yet, and your description of your gift’s flow has gotten me thinking of the Älfir powers of old. I have managed to find one tome, however the translation is not completed.��� She pulls you to your feet, urging you towards the softer seats rather than the desk. “Perhaps, what I will teach you now about Loki is of better use, even.”

... Loki   ...

She should be back by now. The raven-haired man scowls at the setup of the room: everything is perfectly clean, a thick log is burning happily in the fireplace, and a light snack awaits on the little table near [Y/N]’s favourite chair. All that’s missing is...her.

Naturally, Frigga could have chosen to extend the lesson’s time frame or perhaps invite the guest to participate in some social hubbub. Loki would like that. It’s a much more comfortable thought than if the Midgardian has been swept away by the Warriors Three, for instance. Or his brother.

As evening creeps in, it becomes increasingly difficult to remain optimistic. Maybe she has decided to leave on her own accord? The new concern is uncomfortable the way it gnaws at his heart.

Purposely staying out of [Y/N] way, he had observed her discreetly during the morning, praising himself for the sensible decision to do so because the woman was seething with anger and he had no illusions: it was due to his actions. After all, Hel hath no fury like a woman scorn. And so, it’s with a smidgen of anxiety in his guts that he conjures the disguise and sets out to find the stubborn woman in question.

Scurrying along the hidden passages, he asks the few servants he encounters on the way to the queen’s chambers initially before the gardens, the arched balustrade over viewing the courtyard, and eventually the grand hall. That’s where he finally gets a useful reply.

“The lady is at the library,” a maid informs.

Oh, really?

...   Reader   ...

There aren’t a lot of books you can read in the Asgardian palace library but in all honesty, you didn’t end up in one of the plush seats in the corner for the sake of the literature but rather due to the quiet. Frigga has given you a lot to think about on top of a practical assignment.

“A song for light,” you mutter under your breath, staring at your fingers which are doing anything but create a glow, “light...light....”

You’re too caught up to notice a slinking figure watching you through the nearest bookcase. If I were a glow worm, what would I sound like? But the only experience you have with things that both sing and shine is Lumiere and you’re fairly sure belting out “Be Our Guests” won’t do much good in this case.

“Perhaps milady ought to retire for the evening?” a warped voice startles you.

Freaking stealth-god! He might not sport the usual mesmerizingly green eyes, but you know it’s Loki simply due to the way he looks you over. Well, keep looking ‘cause you don’t own me and you can’t order me to do anything. Ha! The silence stretches, and you recognize the beginning ticks revealing the Asgardian’s impatience – no disguise can hide that – and you have to bite back a smile as you turn to look out the tall window again.

“Lady [Y/N],” he tries again, this time stepping over to stand right next to you.

Waving a hand dismissively, you send a thankful thought to Frigga. “Not now, I’ve got some...things on my mind.”

“Allow me to ease the mental burden.” Only a thin veil separates the sarcasm from being too obvious.

The footsteps of someone coming nearer reduces the simmering standoff to silent glares, then a librarian rounds the bookcase and bows discreetly to you, informing that he will take his leave unless you have any requests. Oh, it’s tempting to invent some reason for the man to stay, forcing Loki to keep up the charade, but for the life of you you can’t think of anything and have to watch him walk away.

“Thought you could escape me by coming here, hmm?” the god hisses into your ear.

It sends shivers down your back which you do your best to suppress. “I’m not surprised you don’t know this but I actually like reading. I love books. Perhaps you should have bothered to learn a bit before assuming you’ve got me figured out.”

His eyes gleam and a grin begins to split his face. “Is that so? You presume I do not know you?”

“Fine! What’s my favourite food?” When he doesn’t answer, you power on: “Yours was roasted duck with figs and nuts when you were little. On Alfheim, you seemed to adore the salad with warmed goat cheese and honey.”

“That wasn’t goat cheese.” He doesn’t manage to derail the conversation so he tries with a new tactic, lowering his voice to an obscenely sensual level. “What I do know is how your breathing hitches as I pinch your nipples. It’s no secret to me that your hips would buck if I were to slip my fingers between your soaked folds...and, my pet, even now the scent of your arousal is rising as rapidly as last night.”

“Yet all you do is talk,” you bite back, “empty words but nothing to show for it!”

You know you’ve pushed him past that line the history books and hindsight so clearly shows when his eyes grow dark, emerald and ruby peeping through the illusion. His fingers tangle into your hair while the other hand pulls the glowing cube from the air and the world is obscured by the cloud of magic.

[letsperaltiago]

now or never

Sooo... my last smut (and my first ever) got such good feedback so I'm back with another one! This is based on nr. 47 on a smut prompt list which is: "Were you just mast*rb*ting?"

Enjoy! And lemme know what you think

Read here or on AO3 

RATED E

He had really tried to fight it. So hard. He really had.

Alas, at some point, will and pride just hadn’t been enough which meant Jake had given into the temptation of sneaking away from the rest of the Santiago family; a temptation which had been knocking on the door to his mind for quite some time. Weak as he was he gave in. More specifically he managed to sneak off to Amy’s childhood bedroom - a tiny, tidy room with a queen-sized bed where he and Amy always slept whenever they stayed at her parents’ house - where he quickly had kicked off his jeans and boxers before getting under the covers.

The walk to the upstairs bedroom from the garden, the place where the entire family consisting of 20 plus people were hanging out, playing games and drinking, had at first felt like an obvious walk of shame. Although the second he noticed that everyone was too busy enjoying the sunny weather to notice him, even less questioning his walking away, he figured he was safe. It was natural - it was okay.

Of course, naturally, he and Amy didn’t get down and dirty every single night, especially not after becoming parents, but the week leading up to this getaway had been extra busy. They hadn’t been gifted any time or energy to enjoy each other. And then there he was: week two without any kind of “adult fun” (how they addressed it around Mac) and he was slowly but surely going insane. It sure didn’t help that kept replaying Amy getting dressed in her nice (lacy) underwear that morning. He would’ve acted on it if she hadn’t picked their 6-month old up from his travel crib the second she was dressed leaving him no room to intervene whatsoever. So there he was: under the covers of his and Amy’s bed for the week with his hand hidden under the cream-coloured covers as it dutifully stroked his boner - one he felt like he’d had constantly since their first night at her parents’ house. His gorgeous and stupid hot wife was both a blessing and a curse.

He’d basically kicked off his pants and boxers the second the door closed behind him, he didn’t want to be away from everyone else for too long after all, and now the clothing lay abandoned and undone on the bedroom floor as he slowly ran his right hand down his already half-hard shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed. It was far from his ideal way of taking care of said problem: he’d much rather be helped by his wife, but he also knew and respected how she felt about sex at her parents’ house. Especially when her entire side of the family was there as well. The odds of getting caught were not exactly on their side.

He let his mind slip into a vivid daydream, pictures of Amy in the red lingerie he’d bought for her on valentines day (just before they found out they were pregnant) writhing her beautiful body the way she knew would drive him insane. There was no denying the fact that at this stage the mental images of his wife alone could’ve gotten him there, but when you’re in a Santiago household with the entire family visiting there’s no time for patience, Jake knew, so his hand accompanied with a grip around his cock working its way up and down on repeat.

“F-fuck,” unable to suppress them, occasionally small whimpers and groans would escape him. Even though they were kept to a minimum they, to Jake’s oblivion and ignorance, were loud enough to immediately catch his wife’s attention when she as silently as possible, thinking her husband was gone to take a nap (being with the entire Santiago-family for so long definitely earned him that privilege), walked into the room. She hadn’t thought much of his absence but now having entered the room it was clear as day what was actually going on.

Jake, on his part, mid-bliss and nearing his climax was almost too caught up to notice anything at all. Then again Amy’s childhood bedroom was far from big enough for Amy to remain unnoticed. The second his eyes drifted just a bit open they shot open wide in shock and his hand came to a rough halt even though it pained him to leave himself hanging this close to the edge.

“Ames!”

His wife froze like a deer in headlights and for sure knew what was going on in the room she’d just barely entered. There was a moment of silence, just briefly and long enough for Amy to form a sentence.

“Were you just masturbating?”

Fair question, he thought.

“Uh-” Jake stuttered trying to come up with an explanation only to realize that there was no way around the truth. “Yes.”

Of course she would never be disgusted or mad, Jake knew (his wife loves him in any sexy context) but he did have to admit that he was surprised when she let the bunch of Mac’s baby toys she’d been holding fall to the floor. Nothing was said to explain the action further and it only made sense to him when she, within a matter of seconds, successfully shifted from shocked to flipping on her own switch. Next thing he knew he was watching her unbutton her jeans and wiggling out of them.

“I left Mac with my parents telling them I was going to put away his toys and then mash him some bananas-,” she informed him abruptly after succeeding to kick the jeans off and away to a corner of the room before walking over to him in bed,“-which means we have approximately 10 minutes before my absence will be categorized as suspicious.”

The way she informed him, promptly and with any insecurity, had Jake feel like he was back at the academy being bossed around. Only this time he didn’t mind one bit - especially when she climbed the bed first, then under the covers onto him to straddle his naked hips.

“You up for the challenge?”

It all happened so fast: from the second Jake discovered her in the room to then having her on top of him, and it’s safe to say that he was just a tad confused. Yet also horny and turned on enough to put two and two together fast enough to reply before she got too impatient.

“Uh- ready? For what?”

Of course he was ready! He was mid-buildup to a climax he needed very badly and he could’ve very well just...gone for it. Yet when his wife was bold and brief like this, it always scrambled up his mind and flipped his plans upside down. God, she was hot - even in her casual mom-wear (jeans, now on the floor, and one of Jake’s flannels tied at the waist to crop it and accentuate her curves. All of this paired with the perfect messy bun).

“Efficient intercourse,” she proved her point by grinding down to feel his already hard cock earning herself the delicious sound of Jake letting out a soft moan.  “You feel ready to me. Ahead even. A prepared man - I love that.”

“Gosh,” he breathed out through his gritted teeth taking a hold of her hips, a part of her who always felt like the most perfect soft yet sculpted handful for him. “If I wasn’t already so fucking turned on and way past reasonable judgement I would so tell you to never call it efficient intercourse ever again…”

Amy chuckled in return both at his comment but mostly as a sound of enjoyment at the fact that her husband was a mess beneath her.

“... But I won’t even bother at this point. God, Ames… I really need this.”

It was his turn to grind and his hands dutifully accompanied her hips into a grind of their own to meet his desperate sway. He needed her so bad. Lucky for him Amy was quick to oblige and without delay Jake got to feel her soft lips against his. They kiss every day and it never feels not amazing, even the smallest pecks, but that kiss right then and there? It was on fire and it was as if they were kissing for the last time. It quickly grew into a hot and heavy, horny teenager-ish makeout session. Safe to say that shared between the two of them there is no shame. The pent up parents-syndrome was so very real.

“You’re already so hard, babe,” Amy managed to let out between clashing lips and the small sounds of pleasure, calling out for each other, that they shared. “Can’t believe you had your own fun without me.”

“It’s never really fun without you, Ames,” Jake was quick to counter and it was obvious that she smiled into the kiss at the remark. A smile was the best thing his word could bring out of her. “Just a less-fun substitute.”

“Poor thing. Let's put that less-fun substitute you had before me to good use then, shall we?”

Amy straightened back up and raised herself to stand on her knees allowing her to push down the edges of her panties, not all the way but just enough to expose the part of her he so shamelessly was craving to see and more importantly feel. The fabric never got further than mid-thigh but then and there it was enough: Jake’s hand reached past the already damp fabric and unhesitatingly began stroking her already lower lips with the entire surface of his palm. Amy’s hips were quick to join the rhythm of his fingers by grinding to meet him. Bit by bit he added fingers to provide more enjoyment successfully earning him small whimpers. Loud enough for them to clearly hear but controlled enough to not draw any attention to what they were currently doing if someone were to walk by their room.

It was truly a sight to die for, Jake thought, looking up at his gorgeous wife as she quickly built up a sweat that competed with the wetness developing in-between her folds.

“As much as-” she was interrupted by her own impossibility to hold back a whimper when he crooked his finger just right brushing her clit. He kept feeling her at the same angle to make sure no enjoyment was lost but still she fought to finish her sentence. “-as much as I love this...” she thrusted into his hand with more drive than before as emphasis earning her a groan in return before continuing, “... I need you to fuck me before someone becomes suspicious. We can do proper foreplay some other day.”

“When? In another 6 months?”

Jake’s voice was drenched in sarcasm. He loves his son with a capital L although that doesn’t change the fact that he does miss having all the time in the world to please his wife as she so rightfully deserves. Foreplay, loads of it, taking his time with her and allowing her to do the same with him? It was rare these days. A baby with no respect for intimacy will do that.

“Shut up,” she grabbed his shaft to give it a few strokes in preparation as she slowly let her knees bend sinking down towards the awaiting tip. “Panties,” she commanded and Jake immediately complied by pushing the obstacle to the side. Time was of the essence and having to search for a pair of slung away panties afterwards wasn’t something they’d have the time for; keeping them on was definitely the most efficient way to tackle the problem.

Jake had barely got the fabric out of their way when he was swept into another (dearly missed) world by the feeling of his wife’s warm wetness surrounding his shaft. He knew, of course, but once again he was in a total state of euphoria at this great reminder of the fact that nothing would ever beat the feeling of Amy Santiago - especially not his own sad hand.

“F-fuck,” she stuttered head immediately thrown back, half-undone bun dangling and eyes closed trying to contain the overwhelming feeling of pleasure washing over her as she took her time sliding all the way down onto him.

“So good,” he breathed heavily as his hands found their way to her hips as if to stabilize her quaking thighs throughout her progression down onto him. Soon she reached the goal, filled up by him entirely, and after taking in the dearly missed burning sensation she picked up a rhythm bringing her right back up to the tip of his cock before going back down on it with even more power than the previous time. And so it kept going, picking up pace with every thrust, power of the thrusts escalating, and the two parents gave into the craving for each which they’d subdued for so long. So long that it seemed like forever.

“Y-Yes, yes, yes!”

Her words, or rather barely understandable high pitched whines, were only just kept low enough to keep secret but loud enough for him to enjoy like his own little intimate performance. One hand left her hip bone sliding back to grip her ass cheek. A

“Keep quiet, okay?” he warned looking up at her with a commanding glance that would leave her wanting to question what he meant. But there was no time: as soon as he figured the coast behind their bedroom door was clear (at least he really hoped it was) his hand left her ass only to come back to it in the shape of a smack that was definitely a bit louder than intended - so was the moan it earned him. Whether it was because they were so cautious about their noises or it actually was loud, Jake prayed no one walked by right then and there. “Shh, Ames.”  

“Jake,” she carefully whined obviously back to being in control of her voice’s volume. “That felt so good… This feels so good.”

“I know, babe, but keep quiet. You don’t want your family to hear us, right?”

He immediately realised it kinda came out as sexy-talk but he actually meant it. She would kill herself and him if they were to be caught. With no hesitation.

“I almost don’t care.”

“Oh, trust me… You do, babe.”

In hopes of keeping her mind off of the anticipation, the fear but also the excitement of doing what they were doing, her hips picked up speed. She leaned forward to share a kiss with her husband, probably the deepest in a while, which would hopefully muffle whatever future too loud sounds her body failed to control. The second they both felt what the slight change of angle did they were both thankful for Amy’s decision to initiate a kiss: he entered her just right and the shock of pleasure it sent through them both was worthy of a tiny scream. Alas a scream she had to fight to tone down to a loud whimper muffled by her husband’s hungry lips and moans in return.

“I’m so close already,” he pulled back to breathe the words heavily into her sweaty temple as their pace only grew faster, deeper, as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass in support.

“M-me too. Embarrassingly close. I needed this.”

“You look so fucking good in my flannel. Even better when on top of me like this.”

Amy was just as out of breath and straightened back up, or at least halfway, to grab the wooden headboard rising from the top of the bed before her. This would work as support for the last stretch, Amy thought to herself, as she reached a pace even she was surprised by. Perhaps that was what being pent up did to her: gave her superpowers in bed. Jake definitely noticed and within seconds they were both fighting to control moans and whimpers as they chased their climax.  

“Right there,” he breathed pulling her in closer to him by her ass.  “Yes, Ames. Now, now, now-” he was cut off by himself reaching the peak, bursting into his still grinding wife causing his mess of words and sounds transcending into one last dragged out sound of pleasure as his hips rolled with her through the aftershock.

“A-a-almost,” Amy accompanied the sounds of his climax looking deeply into her favorite sight: the sight of her climaxing husband’s blank eyes and gaping mouth. One thrust, two thrusts, three thrusts-

“Yeeesss, Jake,” she hissed louder than intended with her head thrown back and knuckles white from holding onto the headboard as she came just seconds after her husband. After giving their almost synchronised climax a few soothing thrusts, per se, a ride through the entirety, they both came to a halt. Jake still inside of her. Amy still gripping onto the headboard looking down between her reached out arms and down at him.

The silence let the other know that they were indeed literally speechless. It didn’t last last long though: a voice belonging to non-other than Amy’s mother came from what sounded like downstairs and sweeped the intimate atmosphere like an exploding bomb.

“Amy, Mija! Mac has been non-stop crying for five minutes now. I think he’s hungry!”

“Shit!”

And never before has Amy flown off her husband's body and gotten re-dressed with such speed. At least she’d kept her panties and his flannel on.

“Coming, mom! Just need to find something in our room!” She yelled back in panic hoping it would gain her some time and hopefully keep her mom downstairs. Meanwhile her husband admired the chaotic scene with a toothy grin on his face. “Worth it?” he asked curiously.

She might’ve been mid-closing pants, more afraid of being caught than ever before, yet it didn’t keep her from answering “Definitely” with a dark look in her eyes paired with a devilish smile as she threw her mussed hair into a new messy bun that didn’t make her look like she’d been fucked into another world (which she had but shh).

Man, he loved her.  

[wistfulcynic]

where none intrudes

SUMMARY: Emma has been in love with Killian for a long time, but it takes a pandemic and eighteen hours of panic when he’s not answering his phone for her to realise it. Now they’re quarantined together and sharing a bed and she needs him to know how she feels. If only she could find a way to tell him. 

Killian has been in love with Emma for as long as he’s known her, but he knows the quickest way to send her running would be to tell her how he feels. Now he’s waking up every morning with her in his arms and all he wants is for this to be his life forever. If only he could find a way to tell her. 

-

SO here it is, the AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED fic. I realise this is a sensitive subject for some people, so please do be forewarned that there is some discussion of the coronavirus here, though it is primarily a soft and fluffy idiots-in-love story with much emoting and sharing of beds and very little angst. If you choose to read it I hope it brightens your day and helps get you thorough these challenging times. 

Copious love to @ohmightydevviepuu for stopping me from banging my head against the wall ❤️❤️❤️

-

Rating: a soft M Words: 4.7k

On AO3

-

where none intrudes: 

Killian pulled up in front of the tall brick building, slipping neatly into a parking spot he could barely believe he was lucky enough to find. Normally he had to park several blocks away from Emma’s place—his old place—and drag his loaded satchel or his groceries or now his suitcase through the streets of the neighbourhood trying not to feel self-conscious as curtains twitched in the windows as he passed. 

He whistled a little tune as he took his suitcase out of the trunk, his heart racing in anticipation of seeing Emma again. It had been far too long. Just over a year ago he’d moved to Chicago for a job opportunity far too good to turn down, and since then he’d only managed to see her twice. The last time was Christmas, when they’d both been so busy with the rest of their friends and their family obligations that they’d barely had an hour together to catch up. 

Killian wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than it had been before, when they’d lived across the hall and had seen each other every day, spending most evenings at one or the other of their apartments cooking together and watching TV. As much as he missed just hanging out with Emma—as much as he missed her—he didn’t miss the ache of longing that had pretty much permanently taken up residence just below his heart. It was less acute in Chicago, or maybe it was just different—an ache born more of missing than of wishing—wishing for things he knew could never be his. 

He dragged his suitcase up the steps to her door and rang the bell. It swung open immediately and he barely had time to catch a glimpse of Emma’s pale face before she was in his arms, her own wrapping tightly around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Oh my God, Killian,” she whispered. “I was so worried.” 

“What?” His arms had come around her automatically and now his hand stroked her back soothingly as she began to tremble. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” she snapped, pulling away and punching him in the arm. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you been watching the news? Why aren’t you answering your damn phone?” 

“I’ve been driving for the past eighteen hours!” he protested, rubbing his arm. “You know I always turn my phone off in the car. Safety—” 

“Don’t you dare say ‘safety first,’” she hissed. “Not when I’ve spent the past eighteen hours wondering if you were dead!” 

“Why would you wonder that?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I—” 

“Look, would you come inside?” She grabbed his arm—the one she’d punched—and pulled him into the apartment. He barely had time to snag his suitcase and haul it in behind him before she’d slammed the door and locked it. 

“Go wash your hands,” she said. “I’ll be in the living room. Leave that!” She scowled as he reached for the suitcase handle again. “We’ll disinfect it later.” 

“Disinfect—” 

“Hands, Killian. Living room.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. 

Frowning in confusion, he retreated to the small bathroom off her kitchen and washed his hands thoroughly. This must have something to do with that virus, he thought. He may not always pay as much attention to current events as Emma thought he should, preferring to give his attention to his books and his research, but he did work in a university library and though his role wasn’t normally student-facing he was aware of the recent hand-washing and social-distancing edicts designed to protect them all from its spread. Still, Emma’s reaction seemed extreme. 

When he entered the living room she was there, pacing back and forth with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and a frown still creasing her forehead. 

“What is all this, love?” he asked, resisting the urge to pull her close again and soothe her obvious upset. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s the coronavirus,” she said. “You are aware of that, right?” 

He ignored her sarcasm. “Aye, of course I am.” 

“Well, it’s been officially declared a pandemic. The number of cases in town has more than doubled overnight. Businesses are shutting down and we’re all being told to self-isolate. No going outside except to get food, and even then we have to stay six feet away from each other. People are hoarding toilet paper and you weren’t answering your damned phone and I thought…” Her voice broke and Killian strode across the room and wrapped his arms around her. It was a sign of how deeply upset she was that she didn’t hold herself stiffly as she often did in hugs but melted against him, fisting her hands in his sweater and pressing her face against his neck. 

“I’m fine, love,” he said softly. “I was driving, that’s all. I had my phone turned off and I wasn’t listening to the radio. I’m so sorry I made you worry.” 

“It’s okay.” Emma sniffed and his heart broke a little as he felt tears leak from her eyes and dampen his collar. He hugged her tighter. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” she murmured. “And here.” She swallowed audibly and snuggled against him. 

“Aye, love,” he agreed. “Me too. And we have a whole week to spend together to catch up.” 

“Um, yeah. About that.” She pulled back from his embrace and reluctantly he let her go. She crossed her arms again and shot him a wary look. “The thing is, we’re basically quarantined now. No going outside. For um, the foreseeable future, they say. You might—have to stay a bit longer.” 

He frowned. “I can’t stay longer, I’ll have to get back to work.” 

“Your university’s closed. All the schools and universities are closed. You can maybe work from home, but you’d have to talk to your boss about it.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s really something I can do. I work with rare books and they can’t leave the library. Maybe I should call Belle now—” 

“Do it on Monday,” said Emma. “You’ve just driven a thousand miles, you must be exhausted.” 

“I am, actually. But love, I don’t want to impose, I can get a hotel.” 

“Hotels are closing too. You’ll stay here.”  

“Are you sure? You really wouldn’t mind having me here, possibly for weeks?” 

Emma smiled, the soft, warm smile he loved so much. “No, of course not. Stay as long as you need.” 

—

It was remarkable how quickly they fell into a routine—a quarantine routine, he said, nudging Emma with his elbow as she rolled her eyes—though actually, Killian thought, it wasn’t really that remarkable at all. They had always meshed so well together, fitting so easily and so naturally into each other’s lives. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed that in Chicago until he had it again, even more of it now than when they were neighbours. Back then they’d seen each other every day but always within the boundaries laid out by their friendship. Now, though… now he saw Emma all the time, in ways he never dared imagine he would. Fresh from the shower with her skin pink and dewy and her hair wrapped in a towel leaving her long neck bare, or blinking sleepy eyes and grunting in response to his cheerful greeting when he poured her a cup of coffee every morning. And then a week into his stay both the best and absolute worst way of them all—curled up in bed with him, sound asleep and snoring softly with her head on his chest. 

Naturally he had insisted on taking the sofa. That had been their plan anyway for the week of his visit, and though Emma reminded him multiple times that the sofa was so old the upholstery in the armrests had worn down thin and flat and there was that one broken spring that always seemed to know just where to poke him, he’d waved away her concerns, reminding her that it was only a week and he’d manage. He’d slept in far less congenial circumstances during his navy years. 

And manage he did. The spring gouged holes in him and the armrests put a crick in his neck no matter how many pillows he wedged beneath it, but though he never uttered a word of complaint after a week of watching him wince as he rubbed at the ache in his neck each morning Emma confronted him, hands on her hips and wearing her most no-nonsense scowl. 

“You’re sleeping in the bed tonight,” she said. “No arguments.” 

“Love, I—” 

“I said no arguments, Killian!” 

“You can’t expect me not to argue when you try to give me your bed!” he protested. “That sofa is considerably less than ideal and I won’t allow you to—” 

“Oh, I’ll be sleeping in the bed too,” said Emma lightly, as though she hadn’t just dropped a metaphorical anvil on his head. “We don’t know how long you’re going to have to stay here and if you sleep on that sofa much longer it’s going to permanently disable you. We can share the bed.” 

“But—” Killian gaped at her. “I—I mean—are you sure?” 

She shrugged. “It’s not like we’ve never fallen asleep together before,” she pointed out. “It’ll be fine.” 

It was true. Many nights they had dozed off on her uncomfortable sofa while watching a movie, curling around each other to avoid the poky spring and resting their heads together in lieu of pillows. Each morning after Killian would wake slowly, taking as long as he dared to enjoy the soft weight of her against him and to indulge in a reckless fantasy or two, letting himself imagine, just for a moment, that things were different and he could wake her with a kiss. He would imagine kissing her, softly at first and then gradually deeper until she was desperate and trembling beneath him and then—and then he would remind himself firmly that she was his closest friend and the best and surest way to fuck that up would be to act on his feelings for her. Then he would pick her up and carry her to her bed, and go home. 

Waking with her on the sofa like that had been difficult enough, but as he discovered the following morning, waking in her bed with her curled tightly against his side, her hand on the bare skin of his stomach beneath the t-shirt he didn’t normally wear was considerably worse. Unlike the mornings they’d woken on the couch they were both stretched out comfortably and it would be easy… so easy… far too easy to roll her beneath him and kiss her awake just as he had dreamed of doing for so long. It would be so easy and the idea of it was so tempting that he couldn’t even allow himself the indulgence of fantasy. Instead he held his breath as he eased Emma gently back on her pillow and slipped from the bed with a sigh of relief. Her bed may be more comfortable than her sofa but it was also seriously dangerous and Killian knew that he would need to be on his guard. 

Just keep it together for a few more weeks, he told himself firmly as he put the coffee on and scrolled absently through the news on his phone while it brewed. All you have to do is not tell her you love her, and you’ve been doing that successfully for five years now. 

Of course, he’d never been completely engulfed by temptation before, never offered this tantalising glimpse of what his life could be if they were together. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it, the longing lodged beneath his heart fiercer then ever. This was what he wanted of life, him and Emma and all those tiny intimacies you only come to know when sharing space with someone. He wanted his toothbrush in the same cup as hers, their clothes all jumbled together in the dryer. He wanted mundane conversations about whether they needed milk and what kind of bread they should buy. He wanted that so badly, had wanted it for as long as he’d known her and always managed to keep it contained, but now that he’d had a taste of paradise he had no idea how he could ever give it up.

With a groan he let his head fall against the cabinet above the coffeemaker and banged it softly. How was he ever going to go back to Chicago and resume his life there, now that he knew what it felt like to spend the night in Emma’s bed and wake with her in his arms? How could he leave the woman he loved a second time?

—

Once the bedroom door had closed behind Killian Emma curled up on her side, hugging her pillow tightly and wondering what the fuck she thought she was doing. They were friends, she reminded herself. He was her best friend, the only friend she’d ever had that she felt completely comfortable with, yet here she was doing her best to fuck that up by trying to sleep with him. Even wanting to sleep with him already had her so much on edge that she didn’t know how much more of it she could take. 

It wasn’t like she’d never noticed before how ridiculously handsome he was, or taken advantage of the occasionally blurry boundaries of their friendship to snuggle up to him as they watched TV and fall asleep secure in his arms with her head on his shoulder. It was that she’d always been able to compartmentalise the attraction she felt for him, to lock it away where it couldn’t endanger their relationship. 

The people Emma loved always left her. If she never loved Killian, she told herself, then he would never leave. They would always be friends, slightly too-close friends maybe but still just friends and that meant she could keep him, have him in her life forever. 

Too bad it was too fucking late for that now. 

She had not been prepared, not anywhere near prepared for the sheer chest-gripping, knuckle-whitening terror she’d felt the week before as his phone had again and again and again gone straight to voicemail and she’d begun to imagine him not just struck down by the virus but in all kinds of dire scenarios. 

If Killian died, she’d realised in a single blinding flash, it would break her. She very literally did not know how to live without him. Even this past year when he’d been in Chicago she’d known he was always on the other end of the phone and that no matter when she called or what he was doing he would drop everything to talk to her. And if she didn’t have that—didn’t have him—she would be completely, utterly lost. 

She couldn't deny her feelings any longer, and so now here she was with that ever-present simmer of attraction brought to a full rolling boil by the stupid, inconvenient, seriously annoying fact that she was in love with him. She was in love with him and all she could think about was touching him, her hands on his skin and in his hair, wrapping herself around him and never letting go. This past week she’d woken in a cold sweat every night, heart pounding and tense with anxiety, and each night she had snuck silently into the living room to make sure Killian was still there, still breathing, letting the sight of him soothe her frantic heart as she trailed her fingers gently over his face, the familiar beloved features softened by sleep. 

She couldn’t let him stay on the sofa, not just because it was uncomfortable but because she needed him close enough to touch. Close enough that she could slip into his arms as he slept, snuggling into them and enjoying the way they tightened around her, hoping that maybe if he woke and found her there something might happen. 

Exactly what she didn’t know. Something. Anything to ease this unbearable tension, this endless itch beneath her skin. 

With a sigh she dragged herself from the bed and slipped a cosy sweater on over her pajamas, then trudged to the kitchen. Killian was there of course, already pouring her a coffee. Her heart skipped several beats then soared when he looked up with that bright smile he gave her every morning. 

“Morning, love,” he said. “How’d you sleep? I didn’t disturb you, I hope?” 

“Huh uh,” she muttered, accepting the mug he offered her and taking a generous, delicious gulp. Killian’s coffee was always just right. Not too hot or too strong and the ideal ratio of creamer and sugar. It was perfect. He was perfect and she was so, so fucked. 

“Eloquent as always,” he teased, though a small frown creased his forehead. “Are you sure? I can always go back to the couch if I bother you—” 

“No,” she said firmly. She wanted him in her bed, even if it was just to sleep. She needed to be able to reach out and feel him there beside her, needed to hear the gentle rhythm of his breathing and know he was here and he was safe. “It’s fine. I slept really well, actually. Um, did you?” 

“Aye, I did.” 

They sipped their coffee in silence for a moment. 

“So,” said Killian with a wry smirk. “What shall we do today?” 

Emma emptied her cup and smirked back at him, finally feeling caffeinated enough to form coherent sentences. “Well,” she said. “It’s hard to choose given our wide range of options, but I think we should start with a movie. Then maybe we could have a few episodes of a TV show, and after that you’ll probably want to read something—” 

“I can’t stare at a screen all day, love.” 

“—and at some point we’re going to need to have something to eat and I’m pretty sure we’ll dance around the kitchen and sing along to terrible music as we cook it, and then, I don’t know, maybe another movie. Or three.” 

“Quarantine, eh?” grinned Killian. “What a life.” 

Later, as they sat snuggled together beneath a blanket, cosy and contented, those words rang through Emma’s mind. What a life. 

—

They did of course occasionally have to pause in their movie watching and bad song singing to do some actual work. Killian had journal articles to write and a project to digitise the special collections library he ran, and Emma had case files to read and emails to answer, and traces she could run in preparation for hunting down her skips after the lockdown was finally over. Every few days one or the other of them would venture out to buy groceries from the newly replenished supermarket shelves, carefully maintaining the required social distance and washing their hands thoroughly when they returned. Each night they cooked together—a healthy meal at Killian’s insistence, which Emma pretended to hate but secretly loved—and watched one final thing before heading to bed. 

Every night Emma waited until he was asleep before easing across the bed and snuggling into him, relaxing against his chest when she felt his arm curl tightly around her waist. And every morning she woke up back on her own side of the bed, to the sounds of Killian whistling cheerfully in the kitchen as he made coffee. He never said a word about waking up with her wrapped around him, and neither did she. But as the days went by she felt more and more strung out, antsy and aching and growing increasingly desperate. 

So caught up was she in her own struggle that it took far longer than it should have for her to notice that Killian too was growing tense and restless, with lines of strain around his eyes and his smile gone brittle at the edges. They still cuddled on the sofa but now he seemed to brace himself before opening his arms to her, holding very still as she curled against him, his breathing carefully even. When it was time for bed he changed into his pajamas in the bathroom, never emerging until she was safely tucked beneath the blankets and with a strange, unreadable expression on his face as he slid in beside her and wished her good night. And each night she waited longer for him to fall asleep.

Emma knew she should probably stop what she was doing, should stay firmly on her side of the bed and quit tormenting herself and possibly Killian as well, but as much as she tried she couldn’t do it. She craved that nightly contact, needed it, more than she could remember needing anything in her life before, and she looked forward to it with equal amounts of eagerness and dread. 

Still, they couldn’t go on like this forever. Something needed to break, to change, before she lost her mind completely and simply threw herself at him. Emma knew how she wanted things to change. She wanted this life, not the quarantine specifically but this intimacy with Killian, sharing everything with him from food and clothes to her bed and her body. She wanted it all but expressing feelings had never been her strength, and cuddling him each night was the only way she knew of to tell him how she felt.  

—

One sunny Wednesday morning just over three weeks into the quarantine Killian came awake slowly, as was his new custom. All his life he’d been an early riser, bright and alert the minute he opened his eyes, but since opening them now meant facing the reality of untangling himself from Emma and leaving her bed he tried to keep them closed for as long as he could manage. 

Waking up was the best and worst part of his day. Best because it was wonderful, to start the day with her soft warmth pressed against him and the sweet scent of her hair in his nose, the way her hand always found his bare skin and made him ache. Worst because he knew even before he opened his eyes that none of it was truly his and all too soon it would end. 

That morning they were more entwined than ever, and as consciousness, unwelcome as it was, began to break he became aware that his leg was between hers, wedged so tightly she was basically riding his thigh. His hand was splayed on the small of her back, spread across the warm skin beneath her tank top while hers rested on his chest, her head tucked into the curve where his shoulder met his neck. 

Her skin was so soft, like silk beneath his fingers, and Killian tried to move his hand away, he truly did, but it did not obey. Instead it stroked up her back and then down again, slipping under her pajama shorts to curl around her ass and pull her hips more tightly against his. 

Bad idea, Jones, his brain screamed at him, pointing out that she could hardly fail to notice his erection at that angle, but his body still refused to listen, and when Emma moaned deep in her throat and clenched her thighs around his leg he gave up thinking altogether. 

He rolled her onto her back, pressing his leg harder against her core and glorying in her gasping groan and the helpless way her hips bucked up as her eyes fluttered open. For a breathless moment their gazes met and held and Killian waited for her to realise what was happening, to push him away. Instead her hand trailed up his chest to curl around the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss that fulfilled every dream he’d ever had of her and more. 

Her mouth opened beneath his and he groaned, losing himself in her taste and the softness of her tongue against his and the dizzying pleasure of finally kissing her. He wanted to kiss her forever but he also wanted her naked, and when the second desire was impeded by the first he actually snarled in frustration.

Emma shoved him back and yanked his shirt off followed by her own, and at the sight of her bare breasts his breath stuck in his throat and he stared for a moment, still struggling to believe that this was really happening, still unsure it wasn’t all another dream. Then she was pulling him back down again, kissing him hard and frantic as they fought their way free of the rest of their clothing. And then—oh God, then— he was nestling between her legs, sinking deep into her heat and softness and wondering if it was possible to die from sheer bliss. 

She gave another little moaning gasp as he began to move, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and locked her legs around his waist, her fingernails digging into his skin as she clutched at him and rocked up to meet his thrusts. They fit together in this as in all things, so naturally it seemed inevitable, and Killian knew as he felt her begin to flutter around him, her climax sparking his own, deeper and more intense than ever before, that their friendship was over. There was no way he could go back to it after this, no way he could live with something so tame when this fire and beauty could exist between them. 

He collapsed onto his side and pulled her against him, and when she hummed in pleasure as she snuggled close his feelings overcame him. 

“I love you,” he murmured, wincing internally even as his mouth formed the words. He waited a beat and when she didn’t reply tried to recover. “I’m sorry, I—” 

“I love you too.” 

“—shouldn’t have said—wait, what?” He pulled back, just far enough to gape at her. 

She flushed and bit her lip, not meeting his eyes. “I said I love you too.” 

“You… do?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, still not looking at him. “I think I have for a while, but I didn’t really know that’s what it was until that day when I couldn’t get ahold of you and I just kept thinking terrible things, like what if you were sick or hurt or—or dying and I couldn’t get to you and I never saw you again—” She blinked rapidly and drew a shaky breath. “And I realised—I mean, I always knew it but it really struck home how you’re the most important person in my life and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don't ever want to find out.” 

“Emma.” He tightened his arms around her, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I’ve loved you for so long... I never imagined you might feel the same.” 

“I did. I just couldn’t admit it. I always lose the people I love—” 

“You won't lose me.” 

“You can’t know that, Killian.” 

“No, I suppose I can’t. But I’m a survivor, as you know, love, and I will never, ever leave you. Not as long as you want me to stay.” 

“I want you to stay. I want this life. Not the quarantine—” 

“The quarantine routine.” 

“—oh my God you’re so annoying,” she sighed, and he could almost feel her eyes roll. “Not the quarantine routine, if you insist, but just—this. Us, together like we’ve been these past few weeks.” 

“I want that too. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted.” 

“What about your job, though? It’s your dream.” 

“Well, how would you feel about moving to Chicago? It doesn’t have to be forever, but for a few years maybe?” 

A small smile curved her lips. “I could consider it. People jump bail in Chicago, right?” 

“I’m certain they do.” 

“Well, then.” She snuggled closer, her fingers tracing patterns through the hair on his chest. “It’s a plan. Just as soon as they let us out again.” 

“No rush, then,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek. “Now that we’ve discovered these more enjoyable activities I find I’m not all that eager for the quarantine to end.” 

“Me neither. And we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” 

“Very true." He stroked his hand down her body, fingers teasing at the tops of her thighs. "What do you say we get started on that?”

-

title taken from this lovely poem:  “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,  There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more” ― Lord Byron

-

@thisonesatellite @katie-dub @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook @artistic-writer @darkcolinodonorgasm @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @shardminds​

[missjanjie]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered | (6/7)

Title: Signed, Sealed, Delivered Summary:   Jan is in love with her French pen pal, Nicky. Her roommate, Crystal, is in love with her best friend, Gigi. A (perhaps ill-thought out) plan emerges: give Nicky a reason to visit by inviting her to Crystal and Gigi’s wedding. With a month to pull the scheme together, no one knows how this will end up. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~17.4k (total) Relationship(s): Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Jan rubbed her eyes, trying to dislodge whatever had gotten caked in there overnight, then pushed herself out of bed and made herself walk towards the kitchen. She put on her glasses and saw Crystal cooking breakfast – so she took off her glasses and put them on again to make sure she was seeing that correctly. “You’re up bright and early,” she observed.

“Is that weird?” Crystal asked, feigning innocence because the answer was obvious. Especially since she couldn’t look Jan in the eye and started shifting her weight from one leg to the other. That went on for about twenty seconds before she broke. “Okay, okay. It’s just… Gigi spent the night.”

That didn’t clear anything up for Jan, who waited for a further explanation. When she didn’t get one, she pointed out, “Gigi spends the night all the time, we both know she’s very comfortable with that. I mean… She practically lives here.”

She huffed because now she had to get into specifics. “No, but it was different this time. We… you know…” instead of outright saying it, she made a ‘v’ with her fingers and flicked her tongue between them.

“Oh please, you can just say you fucked,” Jan said, only for it to hit her a beat later. “Oh my god, you guys fucked?” Her eyes went wide and she bounced excitedly. “Wait, wait, wait. What does that mean for you guys now? Are you gonna be a thing? Is she still here?”

Crystal blinked. “How can you breathe when you’re talking so fast?” She turned back to finish cooking, then plated the food. “She’s taking a shower… I don’t know what this means for us,” she sighed. “The whole thing started because she said we weren’t convincing when we kissed for the photos. Maybe she thought we needed to explore our physical chemistry so we can use it better.”

Jan put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “I’m sorry, but that sounds like a line,” she told her, moving around the kitchen island to pour herself coffee. “Which, I mean, is good for you, because it means she was looking for an excuse to feel you up,” she added, bumping her hip against Crystal’s.

“That’s what I said! But she swore we just needed to be super convincing or it’d ruin our whole plan.”

She quirked her brow and snickered. “You believed that?”

Crystal looked down, pushing a forkful of her omelet into her mouth. “I mean… Why would she make that up? That doesn’t make any sense.” She looked back up, eyes meeting her roommate’s incredulous expression. “What?”

Jan was about to scream, her eyes ready to pop out of her head. If it was obvious to her, it was damn near bewildering that Crystal couldn’t pick up on it. This wasn’t some cute, subtle flirting, like the kind they had been trying to master this whole time – this was as close to an outright declaration of affection that someone like Gigi would get. “I don’t know, Crystal,” she answered with pointed sarcasm, “lying to people we like seems to be the norm here, let’s think this through a little bit.”

Luckily for Crystal, she didn’t get a chance to think too hard. Before she could reply, Gigi exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body, another wrapping up her hair. She looked at the other two girls, blissfully unaware of the bubbling tension between the two roommates. “Hi Jan,” she greeted, at least realizing she had walked in on the middle of a conversation, and added, “I’m gonna go get dressed,” before disappearing into Crystal’s bedroom.

Crystal exhaled once Gigi left and waited for her heart to return to its normal speed. She hated that even though she knew the other girl hadn’t heard anything, her mere presence made her chest tighten. Even after all that had happened the night before, she had the feeling of walking on eggshells around Gigi whenever the subject of her feelings was approached. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Not to sound like the world’s biggest hypocrite, but you could talk to her about it,” Jan suggested gently. She imagined life was a lot easier for people who weren’t afraid to say how they feel, to just open their hearts up and speak their mind without fear of repercussion. It must be nice. Completely unrealistic, but nice.

Unsurprisingly, Crystal scoffed at the mere suggestion. “If talking about things was plausible, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

Jan sighed and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.” She exhaled deeply and looked out the window. “God, we’re pretty fucking useless. Almost makes it hard to believe that graduation’s at the end of the week,” she mused. “When’s your family due in?”

“Day before the ceremony, so Friday. Means we got two whole days of peace and quiet before we have to deal with them,” Crystal explained between bites. But then she abruptly stopped, eyes going wide. “Oh fuck, what’re we gonna do about the… everything?”

Before Jan could answer, Gigi – now fully dressed – rejoined them, naturally noticing the horror in Crystal’s expression before anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“We failed to account for Crystal’s family flying out here in the midst of all of this,” Jan told her. “So we’re either going to have to clue them in, avoid mentioning anything entirely, or let her conservative parents think she’s about to marry a girl they’ve met… what, twice?”

Crystal nodded to confirm Jan’s answer. “I think the second one is our best chance, probably the easiest one too.” She strummed her fingers against the plate, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “Gigi, you need to tell your mom not to say anything, they’ll still probably want to say hi to you guys.”

Gigi shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t think she’s planning on going to the ceremony, so I dunno when she’d see them anyway.”

“I’m just covering our asses!” Crystal snapped, causing both of the other girls to take a surprised, cautious step backward. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “Look, my parents are… They’re trying. But it’s still a work in progress. I just want everything to go as smoothly as possible.”

Jan and Gigi moved back to Crystal, gently holding her from either side. “Everything is going to be fine,” Jan said with a certainty she’d been lacking for the entirety of their plan. But it was different, avoidable, and they weren’t going to let it ruin such an important day. “We’re not gonna let anything ruin this, I promise.”

------

Jan and Crystal, like the rest of their graduating class, were seated in alphabetical order, keeping them apart for the duration of the ceremony. They texted each other, and both Jan and Gigi made sure to reassure Crystal that there was nothing to worry about. And as they sat and listened to speech after speech, things felt increasingly calm, to the point that they were both able to walk across the stage with their heads held high.

And when they tossed their caps in the air, they felt free. The past four years had been a tough, enduring chapter in their lives, but a fun one as well. It also helped to have one less thing on their plate with Nicky’s visit and the ‘wedding’ around the corner.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” Gigi beamed when she finally caught up with the two of them after weaving through the crowd of graduates and their families. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Crystal answered. “I don’t see why they had to hold this so damn early.”

Jan frowned sympathetically. “She didn’t get a chance to get her coffee,” she clarified to Gigi. “Honestly, I’m just happy it’s all done. Gonna miss a lot of it but like… I’m not rushing back any time soon.”

“Yeah? Not going for that MFA?” Gigi asked, absentmindedly looping her arm around Crystal’s waist.

“Not now, at least,” she shrugged. “Gonna see how far I can get with this before I sign myself up for more school.” As she spoke, she felt her phone vibrate in her purse, then fished it out and smiled when she unlocked it. “Aw, look at this cute ‘congratulations’ gif Nicky sent me.”

Crystal’s gaze narrowed as she looked at the screen. “Congrats on your graduation, darling. I have a special present for you, but it’s a surprise. Heart, winky-kissy emoji,” she read off the screen, then looked at Jan quizzically. “What the fuck was that? Did you guys move to sexting already?”

Despite her reddening face, Jan’s expression read just as perplexed. “Believe me, you would know if we were. I have no idea what the surprise is.” She decided to set the mystery aside for the time being. “We should get back home and throw an overnight bag together, we can check into the hotel and leave them there, then right out to dinner with our families.”

“I still can’t believe your parents booked you a night in a penthouse for graduation,” Gigi chimed in. “They don’t mind that I’m going too, right?”

Jan shook her head. “It’s fine, you’ll just have to share a bed with Crystal… But I’m sure that won’t be an issue, right?” she did her best to fight off a smirk, but by the way, Crystal was glaring at her, she was pretty sure her efforts were not paying off.

But Gigi didn’t seem to notice either way. “Yeah, no problem here,” she answered with a casual shrug.

------

Much to everyone’s relief, dinner with Crystal and Jan’s families went off without a hitch, and the two of them, along with Gigi, were ready to have a fun, relaxing night in the penthouse. The suite had two queen-sized beds, Jan running to claim the one closer to the window and the air conditioning.

“Holy shit,” Crystal remarked as she looked around. “How much did this cost?”

“Dunno, my dad used his airline points to cover it,” Jan explained, then flopped down on the bed. “This is a perfect note to end our college careers on.”

Gigi sat on the edge of the other bed. “Can we order room service?” she asked, pushing herself further onto the bed and aimlessly swinging her legs.

Jan sat up and nodded, then got the menu from the bedside drawer. “You know, Nicky never got back to me about whatever her surprise was, I didn’t get anything in the mail.”

“And no salacious photos?” Gigi asked.

“No.”

“She must have a big package for you,” Crystal mused, then laughed at her wording. She ignored Jan and Gigi rolling their eyes and moved to look at the menu, the three of them calling in an order shortly after.

As the three of them sat on Jan’s bed, eating overpriced food and drinking wine that was probably fancy, but they wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between that and the fifteen dollar bottles they were used to. And after a couple glasses of wine, they had become even more relaxed, enough for Crystal to admit, “Jan knows we fucked, by the way.”

Gigi blinked, looking between Crystal and Jan with her lips pursed around the glass. “I didn’t know it was a secret,” she replied once she lowered the glass. “But why did Jan want to know?”

Crystal swallowed thickly, trying to think of a way to talk herself out of what she’d just gotten into. “Because… We’re friends? We talk to each other about this sort of thing. We’re close.”

“Very close,” Jan added under her breath, then giggled when Crystal shot her a look.

Gigi frowned. “Okay, can I ask something that’s been bugging me for a while? Do you guys have, like, a thing?”

Crystal nearly choked on her drink while Jan just seemed to sit and think, then answered with “define ‘thing’.”

“Look, I know you’re in love with Nicky, I’m not saying I think you guys are gonna run off together or anything,” Gigi assured. “But… Sometimes I get the vibe that Crystal might have a crush on you.”

While Crystal’s mouth hung open in shock and a bit of wine dribbled down her chin, Jan had burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding knocking anything over in the process. It was the type of laughter that left her out of breath and with watery eyes.

“Are you done?” Gigi asked, deadpan. “Did you get it out of your system?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jan panted, then turned to Crystal. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I have to tell her the truth,” and Crystal didn’t put up a fight, so she proceeded. “Okay, look, Crystal and I did have sex. Once. But she did it to take her mind off of how much she likes you. It wasn’t anything more than two friends getting high and helping each other out.”

It wasn’t easy to stun Gigi into silence, but Jan’s explanation seemed to do the trick. Had she had it wrong this whole time? Misread every interaction? Ignored every sign? Sure, she knew she tended to be oblivious, but this just made her feel silly. At this point, she didn’t care that Jan and Crystal had hooked up, all she was concerned with was what happened next. “Since we’re all telling the truth now… I have an embarrassing confession. The last girl I hooked up with… I, um, called her ‘Crystal’ in bed. Kinda realized I couldn’t ignore how I felt anymore.”

“If I may,” Jan chimed in. “Literally the first time I saw you guys without the engagement rings was at graduation. Maybe this was a stupid, convoluted way to figure it out, but I think you guys are supposed to be together. Now, I… suddenly have the desire to take a long bath… Bye.” She got off the bed and quickly ducked into the bathroom to give the other two the time alone they needed.

“She’s trying her best,” Crystal remarked before turning to face Gigi. “I… that story… you weren’t just saying that to have an excuse for liking me, right?”

Gigi smiled softly and shook her head. “Is it really that hard to believe?”

Crystal shrugged. “I guess not. The image of you saying the wrong name in bed is funny, though. Just wanted to make sure it was real.” She shifted closer to Gigi and rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m so tired of pretending, not pretending to be engaged, pretending to just be friends.”

“You’re not suggesting we get engaged for real, are you?”

She laughed, picking her head up and resting it against Gigi’s. “No, not at all. I just wanna be your girlfriend, Geege.”

Gigi grinned broadly and pressed a kiss to Crystal’s lips. “I love how that sounds. Say it again, please.”

And Crystal would’ve happily said it as many times as Gigi wanted, as long as she got a ‘yes’ in return. “I wanna be your girlfriend.”

“Then… You are. That’s that,” she concluded, kissing her again, this time longer and with much more emotion behind it. “If we barricade Jan in the bathroom, we could probably fuck before she breaks down the door.”

Crystal laughed, getting up and moving back to hers and Gigi’s bed. “She wouldn’t care if she walked in on us, neither would I, honestly, but I kind of… don’t want to have sex right now. I’m all emotional and vulnerable and whatever,” she admitted as she laid on her side, opening her arms and beckoning Gigi to join her.

“Oh,” Gigi felt her heart swell with warmth. “We don’t have to at all, then,” she hummed, laying with Crystal and holding her close. She pressed gentle kisses over her face, carding her fingers through Crystal’s hair.

They cuddled in comfortable silence for about another ten minutes until they heard the bathroom door open. Jan was wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, her hair a bit damp, and let out a content sigh. She looked over at the couple and smiled fondly. “Aw, you guys are too cute!” she squealed.

“You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?” Crystal asked.

“Nope,” Jan answered honestly. “I’ve been texting with Nicky. But it looks like you guys worked everything out.”

“We did,” Gigi confirmed, then her brows furrowed. “She’s up late, isn’t she? It’s after three in the morning in France, right?”

Jan looked at her phone and counted to herself. “Yeah, that is late, but that’s not uncommon for her, so I didn’t ask.” She gathered up the plates and glasses, stacking it up on the tray and setting it aside. “You guys are gonna finish this bottle off with me, right?”

Before either of them could answer, there was a knock on the door that caught them all off guard. “Wonder what else my parents have planned,” she mused, expecting some sort of additional graduation present, or maybe just an extra dessert. Either way, she opened the door with a smile, only for her jaw to go slack and practically drop to the floor. Surely she was seeing things, or maybe she was more drunk than she realized. There was no way–

“Surprise!” Nicky beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

[heartofether]

Episode 16 - Lorelei TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

VAL

Warning: This episode contains discussions and descriptions of child abuse, and may not be suitable for all audiences. For exact time stamps and a full list of content warnings, please check the show notes. We suggest you check the content warnings regardless, since this is a bit of an intense episode, and contains instances of panic attacks, screaming, and violence. Listener discretion is advised.

AUTOMATED VOICE

[VERY SLOWED DOWN] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT./EXT. OUTSIDE OF LORELEI FOSTER’S HOUSE, DAYTIME.]

[THE SOUND OF A RAVEN CAWING IS HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT JUNE

Jeez, this place smells like a zoo.

AGENT MAY

I need to introduce the recording. Interview with Lorelei Foster, at her home. Part of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Conducted by Agents May and June. All— [CUTTING HIMSELF OFF] June, hey, stay in the car!

[AS HE TALKS, AGENT JUNE IS HEARD OPENING THE CAR DOOR AND STARTING TO STEP OUT.]

AGENT JUNE

What? Come on, dude, I’m getting impatient.

AGENT MAY

We’ll go up to her door in a minute. There’s just—I need to ask you something first.

AGENT JUNE

Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?

[HE CLIMBS BACK INTO THE CAR, CLOSING THE DOOR. AGENT MAY SIGHS.]

AGENT MAY

[SLIGHTLY NERVOUS] You are aware of the case of Lorelei Foster, correct?

AGENT JUNE

Uh, obviously. She was a part of some coven and they all went missing except for her. She moved to this house way outside of town and refused to show her face.

AGENT MAY

Well, under the naming conventions of Valencia and Wood, the Foundation believes that Lorelei Foster is what is known as a “Beastly.” What she could be capable of—it’s not something to play around with. Okay? She could be dangerous. Not deadly, per say, but still potentially devastating in her power.

AGENT JUNE

[PANICKED SARCASM] Wow, that’s super comforting, Agent May.

AGENT MAY

Just don’t say or do anything stupid, alright? Also, if when we see her, she looks, you know, different, don’t comment on it. Act like you don’t even notice.

AGENT JUNE

That’s all? Well, don’t worry about it, then. I’ve never judged a book by its cover. I’ll just stand there and act as well-behaved as I always do.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] That’s what I feared.

[THEY BOTH GET OUT OF THE CAR AND WALK UP TO HER FRONT DOOR. IT'S A LOVELY DAY OUTSIDE, WITH BIRDS CHIRPING AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG. AGENT MAY KNOCKS.]

AGENT MAY

Ms. Foster? This is Agents May and June. We’re with the Harper Foundation. We’re here to ask you a few questions.

[A RAVEN CAWS AS THERE IS NO RESPONSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Maybe she’s not home?

AGENT MAY

I don’t believe she ever leaves her house. Look at her car. It’s untouched. I’m sure she even gets her groceries delivered, somehow.

[HE KNOCKS AGAIN.]

AGENT MAY

We do not wish to harm you or bring you into custody, Ms. Foster. We won’t tell anyone what you are or what you’re doing here. We simply believe you may have some helpful insight on Ether. Just let us ask a few things, and then we’ll be out of your way.

[THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Maybe it’s a lost cause. Well, at least we can say we tried. Guess we should just—

[AS HE’S TALKING, THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN JUST A CRACK.]

LORELEI

You do not plan on taking photographs, do you?

AGENT MAY

We’re recording this over audio. Nobody will see your face except for the two of us, we promise.

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, don’t sweat it. We’re not gonna—[STARTLED] Oh my god!

[AS HE SPEAKS, LORELEI OPENS THE DOOR THE REST OF THE WAY TO REVEAL HER TRUE FORM.]

LORELEI

Is there a problem?

AGENT MAY

Not at all, Ms. Foster. Apologizes for my colleague, he is—

AGENT JUNE

[NERVOUSLY BLUFFING] I have a fear of new people. Yup. Terrified of ‘em.

AGENT MAY

[PLAYING ALONG] It’s tragic, really. Makes our job incredibly difficult.

LORELEI

[SUSPICIOUS] Quite.

[A BEAT.] Well, you said you had questions?

AGENT MAY

That we do. May we come in?

LORELEI

I would advise against it. Terrance is a pacifist when around me, but I am unsure of how he would react to new people.

AGENT JUNE

And who is Terrance, exactly?

LORELEI

A bear. [SADLY] Used to be a friend.

[A BEAR GROWLS IN THE BACKGROUND. AGENT JUNE MAKES A WEAK NOISE OF FEAR.]

LORELEI

I am still unsure whether his calm nature is because he maintained his human consciousness, or if I have some level of control over him that makes him do as I wish. Perhaps a mix of both.

AGENT MAY

Did you make him this way?

LORELEI

That much should be obvious, don’t you think? Assuming you really know what you’re talking about, and you’re not just bluffing.

AGENT MAY

We are somewhat familiar with your kind, but we’re always looking to learn more.

LORELEI

[SHE SCOFFS.] Is that what this is? You view me as a learning opportunity? Like a sample dragged in by the biology teacher for lab day?

AGENT MAY

Of course not. We’re just trying to learn more about Ether.

AGENT JUNE

I am very curious about how you managed to do it, though, if you care to indulge us?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

[SOLEMN] I never asked for any of this. When we attempted the ritual, our hope was that by the end of it, all of us would obtain the same level of power. Valencia told me it would never work. I had quite the rebellious streak back then, though. I didn’t believe him. Perhaps I should have.

If I had known that all of that power would have been channeled into me, I never would have attempted it. Now that time has passed, I realize how useless of a power it even is. What made Ether decide to curse me with it, I’ll never know. Perhaps we didn’t speak clearly enough when we did the ritual.

I had no idea what my limits were, or how to use my abilities. The consequences, of course, were far greater than I could have ever imagined. Terrance and Abigail were both accidents. Clementine, I turned her into a spider in a fit of rage. Scott happened when I was sobbing my eyes out, and he made the mistake of trying to comfort me. I am unsure if I intended to turn him into a snake or not. By the time River was the only one left, they came to me and asked to be turned into a cat. They said they knew I was bound to do it eventually, and they wanted to choose what animal they became. I did as they wished.

[JUST AS SHE SAYS THAT, A RAVEN FLIES OVER AND SQUAWKS. AGENT JUNE STARTLES, YELPING AT THIS.]

LORELEI

[SHE GIVES A DRY CHUCKLE.] I don’t think Abigail likes you.

AGENT MAY

You mentioned the consequences were far greater than you could have imagined. Was that in reference to the loss of your friends?

LORELEI

Oh, don’t make me say it. It would have been one thing if I simply turned my entire coven into my own little petting zoo. Now, however, I can never escape my own errors, even if I were to leave them all behind. I am forever haunted by the marks my ability has left. The bear paw that has become of my left hand. The raven feathers in my hair. The spider eyes sprawled across my face. The venom that drips from my fangs and burns my lips. And oh, how disappointing having the tail of a cat is, despite how elegant I thought it would be when I was a little girl. Cats used to be my favorite animal. They aren’t anymore.

AGENT MAY

Don’t you think River would take offense to that?

LORELEI

Hm. Perhaps you’re right.

[A CAT MEOWS FROM INSIDE.]

AGENT MAY

How did you access Ether’s power?

LORELEI

The same way I’m sure most people have. We did a ritual. Just as most of them do, it went wrong.

AGENT MAY

Do you know where exactly it went wrong?

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

Can I be honest with you? I have had years to think long and hard about the events that transpired that night. I read through our plans over, and over again, hoping to find a way to undo it all. After all of that, I came to the conclusion that whatever fault it was—whatever slip of the tongue or missing ingredient it could have been—none of it would have mattered.

Ether chooses who to favor and who to damn by the luck of a draw. Flip of a coin. It knows no order. It will do what it pleases. It is not a person, or a sentient being—it is a random number generator that can grant unlimited power if you get lucky. It’s a lottery of stones, however. Nobody is ever really winning, even those as fortunate as the Forget-Me-Nots, or those well-off enough to never hear about Ether at all.

[A PAUSE, THEN] Do you have any other questions? I’m rather sure my pets are looking forward to their dinner.

AGENT MAY

Just one: where is the heart of Ether?

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

I would be careful, if I were you. I’ve heard things, rumors, about your little project. Though I doubt you fully understand the dangers, seeing as you’re just the worker bees, hm?

AGENT MAY

It’s not my place to question, I’m afraid.

LORELEI

Perhaps you should. Never does anyone any good, blindly following orders.

[AS THEY TALK, RIVER MEOWS, PURRING AS SHE RUBS AGAINST AGENT JUNE'S LEGS.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERING TO THE CAT] Ah—hey! Go away! Shoo!

AGENT MAY

If you could answer the question, I promise we’ll be out of your hair.

LORELEI

Hm. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help. For years, people believed Ether resided in the sky, but that is untrue. Though, during the brief window Valencia was willing to speak to me, he did tell me he had a theory—

[AGENT JUNE CUTS HER OFF BY SNEEZING.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUTTERS] Stupid cat!

[RIVER HISSES.]

LORELEI

[OFFENDED] I would appreciate it if you did not insult my animals.

AGENT JUNE

[CONGESTED] Then tell River to leave me the hell alone. Can’t you control them, or whatever? At least use your freaky powers to—

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] Agent June—!

AGENT JUNE

I just want this damn—

[THERE’S A TENSE PAUSE AS HE REALIZES LORELEI IS GLARING INTENTLY AT HIM.]

AGENT JUNE

I mean, uh, this lovely cat, to uh…I’m so sorry, ma’am, this has been incredibly rude of me.

LORELEI

[A BEAT.] What was your name, again?

AGENT JUNE

Juh—uh, Agent June?

LORELEI

Agent June. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH DISDAIN.] Agent June, do you have a favorite animal, by chance?

AGENT MAY

[WHISPERING, PANICKED] Don’t say anything. Just thank her and let’s go before—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] I don’t know. Uh, have you ever heard of Sonic the Hedgehog?

LORELEI

[MIXED WITH CONFUSION AND DISGUST] Sonic. The Hedgehog.

AGENT JUNE

[NERVOUS RAMBLING] Yeah! I was obsessed with those games growing up, and so I went through this whole phase where I wanted a pet hedgehog really bad, but my parents never let me have one. Said I was too irresponsible, or whatever. That dream kinda, like, carried over into my adult life though?

LORELEI

[NODDING] So, hedgehogs.

AGENT JUNE

Um, sure.

LORELEI

I see.

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

I do hope you’re happy with that choice, Agent June.

[A HIGH-PITCHED RINGING IS HEARD AS SHE REACHES HER HAND OUT. AGENT JUNE STARTS SPUTTERING IN FEAR.]

[EERIE AND TENSE MUSIC BEGINS TO PLAY.]

AGENT JUNE

[TERRIFIED] What the—?

AGENT MAY

Shit.

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD PULLING OUT A DART GUN AND SHOOTING A TRANQUILIZER DART AT LORELEI. SHE CRIES OUT A BIT, BEFORE STUMBLING, AND THEN COLLAPSING.]

AGENT JUNE

Did you just tranquilize her?

AGENT MAY

I didn’t have a choice. Come on, get in the car. The full effect only lasts forty-five seconds.

[THEY BOTH FRANTICALLY CLIMB INTO THE CAR, SLAMMING THE DOORS AS THEY GET IN.]

AGENT MAY

Are you okay? Did she change you at all?

AGENT JUNE

[HYPERVENTILATING] No, no! But it—this really weird feeling washed over me, like, like my body was trying to fit into a smaller one, I—that was the worst thing I’ve ever felt, oh my god.

AGENT MAY

[ATTEMPTING TO SOOTHE] Agent June, calm down. You’re safe now, okay?

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, only because of you. You just saved my life. I mean, technically, I would have survived, but I would have had to live out the rest of my days as a hedgehog!

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Maybe if you had been able to hold your damn tongue for thirty seconds, this wouldn’t have happened.

[AS HE TALKS, AGENT MAY STARTS THE CAR AND SPEEDS AWAY, THE TIRES SQUEALING.]

AGENT JUNE

I’m sorry I was having an allergic reaction!

AGENT MAY

That’s no excuse for you to have said the things you did. I told you to keep it together.

AGENT JUNE

Stop trying to blame all of this on me. I don’t care if it’s my fault, I almost just lost my humanity. Do you know how horrifying that was?

AGENT MAY

[HE INHALES SHARPLY.] No, you’re right. You’re not entirely to blame for what just happened.

If only she had at least finished her sentence about Valencia’s theory.

AGENT JUNE

[GUILTILY] Yeah, that was pretty poor timing, huh?

AGENT MAY

We’ll find out one way or another. Might have to go back to Irene Gray.

AGENT JUNE

Ah yes, the other enemy we’ve made in this town.

AGENT MAY

I guess we’re going to have to find a way to change that, then. [A BEAT.] Turn off the recording, please.

[SOME SHUFFLING AS AGENT JUNE MOVES TO TURN THE RECORDER OFF.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[EXT. LEMONGRASS PARK, NIGHT.]

[IRENE IS SITTING IN HER CAR. THERE ARE CRICKETS HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

IRENE

I’m parked in front of Lemongrass Park. To be honest, I’ve never actually been here, even though it’s so close to my house. It’s small, but it’s a nice park. There’s a swing set, a seesaw, one of those metal slides that would always burn my skin during the summer. Some nice trees, too.

[REMINISCING] Do you remember when we would go to the park late at night? It was really stupid of us to go there after dark, honestly, it’s a miracle nothing ever happened. Well, I mean, you did hurt your leg that one time you fell off the swing, which I still feel bad about. It felt so serene, though. Like we were the only people in the world. We were still clinging onto our childhood innocence, and you, you were so fond of that park near your house, and I was so fond of the way you laughed. You’ll love this park, too, I think, if you ever get to see it. You always loved places where—

Wait, hold on, I think—I think Sadie’s waving at me. She’s sitting over on one of the swings. At least, I think it’s her? Not quite what I expected her to look like, but then again, I don’t know what I was expecting. She’s wearing all black, and has a striped shirt underneath her t-shirt, even though it’s hot as hell. Is this how emo kids dress these days? I think Aden said something about “e-girls” or something. [SHE SCOFFS.] Jeez, I need to start keeping track of these things. I feel so old.

She’s also wearing a black fabric surgical mask, with a white design? I’ve hardly seen people wear those outside of the medical profession—I mean, there was one time, but that was an outlier. [SHE SAYS THIS PART UNCOMFORTABLY BECAUSE THIS IS REFERRING BACK TO THE FIRST TRAILER.]

It must be her, though. Otherwise, why would she be waving at me? I have the box of film in the passenger’s seat. Avery and I talked today, and they were incredibly vocal about how bad of an idea this was, but they said I’m an adult and can make my own choices.

Avery is…well. I think they have good intentions at heart. They act indifferent all the time, and they’re incredibly mature, but they seem…I don’t know. Sometimes, there’s this, fear, maybe? That bleeds through when they speak. I think they try to hide it. Reminds me they’re still, technically, a kid.

Right, I feel kinda awkward sitting here while Sadie is staring at me. Guess I should get this over with.

[IRENE GRABS THE BOX OF FILM AND STEPS OUT OF HER CAR. SHE WALKS TOWARDS SADIE. WHENEVER SADIE TALKS, HER VOICE IS JUST SLIGHTLY MUFFLED.]

SADIE

[FROM AFAR] Irene, right?

IRENE

Yup!

SADIE

Wonderful!

[SADIE WALKS OVER TO IRENE.]

SADIE

I’ll take that.

[SHE'S HEARD TAKING THE CARDBOARD BOX FROM IRENE.]

SADIE

Looks heavy! How many photos did you take?

IRENE

[HANDING THE BOX OFF] Thank you, uh, I didn’t take these, though.

SADIE

I see. That’s a bummer. I thought I’d met a person of similar passions.

IRENE

Sorry to disappoint.

SADIE

Don’t stress it! Where did you get the film, then?

IRENE

[LYING] It’s from one of my dead relatives.

SADIE

Mm. Sorry to hear that.

IRENE

It was a while ago, so it's okay.

SADIE

They sure took lots of photos. Do you have any idea what they photographed?

IRENE

No clue.

SADIE

Well, I’ll do my best to get this developed. I’m staying with my uncle for part of the summer, and he never uses his dark room, so I have it all to myself. You know, he has this massive house, spends lots of money on rooms he never uses every time he gets a new hobby.

IRENE

Odd he chose Daughtler of all places to stick it.

SADIE

You know, that’s what I said! My professor went green with envy when I told her about it, though. She said this is a perfect town to take pictures.

IRENE

You’re a student, then?

SADIE

Yup! Majoring in photography, in case that wasn’t already clear. [SHE GIGGLES.]

Anyways, I’ll try to get this developed for you as quickly as possible. It may take a while, ‘cause there’s so much of it, so would you like me to give it to you in batches?

IRENE

That would be great, yeah. Um, thank you. Are you sure I can’t pay you?

SADIE

Oh, please, don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’m just thankful for the opportunity.

So, any other questions for me? I’m happy to answer them.

IRENE

Um, I have a bit of a weird one.

SADIE

Hm?

IRENE

Why are you wearing a surgical mask? Is it, like, a germ thing, or are you sick?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

SADIE

I should go get started on this.

IRENE

Um, you didn’t—

SADIE

[AGGRESSIVELY CUTTING HER OFF] Pleasure working with you, Irene! I’ll get back to you about your first batch ASAP!

IRENE

[TAKEN ABACK] Oh. Okay, then. Um, bye.

SADIE

Later!

[IRENE WALKS TO HER CAR AND CLIMBS BACK INSIDE. THERE'S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

Well, that was interesting, for lack of a better term. Sadie seems fine? I guess I just got a bit too personal with the mask thing. I mean, if it makes her feel comfortable, I don’t see why she can’t wear it. I’ll try not to worry about it. As long as she can develop the photos, that’s what matters.

Though I am kind of worried. I mean, Valencia could have taken, well, suspicious photos, assuming they’re connected to his research. I have no idea. I guess we just have to hope? Sadie seems pretty okay with minding her own business, it seems, so if I’m lucky, she won’t question it.

[HER PHONE STARTS VIBRATING.]

IRENE

Oh, hang on. Avery is calling me.

[A BEEP AS SHE ANSWERS.]

IRENE

Hello?

AVERY

Just making sure you didn’t get murdered.

[AS AVERY TALKS, THERE IS THE SOUND OF MASHING VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER BUTTONS AND JOYSTICKS.]

IRENE

[SHE SCOFFS.] Well, I didn’t. Sadie was fine. You really had nothing to be worried about.

AVERY

[DISTRACTED] I mean, it’s still a really bad idea to be meeting someone in the park this late. Daughtler is a small town, but even if we don’t have much of a problem with normal creeps, weird stuff is still kind of the norm, you know?

IRENE

Yeah, I’ve gathered that much, I—wait, hang on, are you playing video games right now?

AVERY

Dude, it’s just Stardew Valley. It’s not like I’m fighting anything.

[A RAVEN CAWS FROM THE GAME.]

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] I don’t know what that is.

AVERY

That’s because you’re old.

IRENE

Hey.

AVERY

[OVEREXAGGERATED, FAKE] Ah no, I just got attacked! I gotta hang up, sorry Irene!

IRENE

You just said there’s no—

[AVERY HANGS UP.]

IRENE

[DEFEATED] …combat.

[SHE HUFFS.] Talk to you later, I guess.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[INT. THE APARTMENT ABOVE THE OPEN EYES BOOKSTORE, NIGHT. A BUDGIE IS OCCASIONALLY HEARD CHIRPING OR FLAPPING ITS WINGS IN THE BACKGROUND THROUGHOUT THE SCENE.]

[HOLLY IS HEARD SORTING THROUGH A GROCERY BAG AND SETTING THINGS ON THE COUNTER.]

HOLLY

Is it recording?

PHOEBE

Yes, it is.

HOLLY

Cool, cool. I got eggs, by the way. I know you talked about wanting to try to make pie at some point, and you were running low, so.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY OVERLAPPING] Oh, um, thank you! Um, why were you out so late, anyways?

HOLLY

Hm? Oh, just a nighttime stroll.

PHOEBE

[WARY] I see.

[HOLLY WALKS OVER, AND SITS ON THE COUCH NEXT TO PHOEBE.]

HOLLY

Alright, then. You have the next letter? I guess all that’s left to do is open it.

[THERE'S A PAUSE AS HOLLY HESITATES.]

HOLLY

You sure you’re okay with me being in the room for this? I know her letters to you were, well, personal.

PHOEBE

It’s okay, don’t worry. I—I trust you. I’m sure Grandma Doe would, too.

HOLLY

[TENDERLY] That…that means a lot.

[A BEAT.] Go ahead, then.

[PHOEBE OPENS THE LETTER.]

PHOEBE

Phoebe, If you are reading this, I assume you have successfully completed the ritual. If it was not a success, well, I have a separate envelope marked for you to read. I suggest you find it.

HOLLY

Almost want to read the other one just to see what it says.

PHOEBE

[UNSETTLED] I don’t think that’s a good idea. If the alternative was that bad, well. I don’t want to think about what could have happened to me.

HOLLY

Fair, yeah. Continue.

PHOEBE

[SHE CLEARS HER THROAT.] If everything worked as well as I hope, then you have now stepped into your role as a Forget-Me-Not. I could not be more proud of you, little wildflower. What a lovely Forget-Me-Not you will be.

I have already warned you of some of the dangers, but now that this is your reality, I am going to begin to describe it all in more detail in order to prepare you. It is nothing I have not already mentioned in previous letters, however.

Now, let us start from the beginning: why did I name them the Forget-Me-Nots? Valencia thought it to be a rotten name. Too flowery, he said it was, too delicate. I believe it to be a sophisticated name. Better than the Hungry, or whatever other titles he’s come up with.

HOLLY

The hell is the Hungry?

PHOEBE

Um, I’m not sure. I’m sure we’ll find out?

HOLLY

Let’s hope.

PHOEBE

It goes on: Anyways, I called them the Forget-Me-Nots because it is not just about their quest for new knowledge. It is about the knowledge they already have. Sure, they know where to find any and all information, but what about that which is already within them? A Forget-Me-Not cannot forget anything. Even the tiniest detail, they will cling onto for the rest of their life. I still remember what I ordered at an Italian restaurant twenty-seven years ago. It was some mediocre chicken parmesan. The sauce was a bit too bitter for my taste, but I went back there because they had delightful breadsticks.

However, this is a double-edged sword. It is not just new information you will begin to retain. If only it was that simple. A Forget-Me-Not also remembers all which has happened before. This includes all of your life up to this point, from your early childhood, to more recent events.

When I chose you to be my predecessor, this is what I dreaded most. Your mother and I always considered it to be a blessing in disguise that you did not remember much of your childhood. I know you are aware of what happened, but the specifics are far worse than I think you’ve ever processed. I would not wish memories of that horrid time upon anyone, especially you. Your poor mother, my dear Agnes, she lives through them every day.

You may be forced to confront some of the memories of your father. The sick, rotten, vile man he was. I am eternally grateful I was able to save you from some suffering when you were a child, though I am deeply remorseful for all your mother put herself through. I wish I could be there to walk you through it all, to comfort you as you remember, but the circumstances are not in my favor.

You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, however, and you do not have to do it alone. Please do not hesitate to reach out to your mother if you find yourself needing the support. You could also talk to a friend—I’m assuming you have an abundance of those, you’re far too charming and sweet to not have any. Like I’ve said, isolation will only drain you of all you are. Nothing about this process will be easy, but I would not put you through it if I did not believe you could handle it.

Take your work slowly. Do not rush into it. Allow your mind to process the—

[PHOEBE SUDDENLY STOPS TALKING. THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

HOLLY

[A MIX OF CONFUSED AND CONCERNED] Phoebe?

PHOEBE

I— [A PAUSE, THEN] Sorry, sorry. Sorry. It’s just. [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

HOLLY

Is something wrong?

PHOEBE

Th—the letter, it’s just, um, got me thinking, I guess. About my father.

HOLLY

[CAUTIOUS] How much do you remember of him?

PHOEBE

[SHE GIVES A SHAKY CHUCKLE.] Oh, I’m trying to avoid that train of thought. I’m scared it will all come flowing in at once.

HOLLY

Oh, right, yeah. Try not to focus too much on it, okay?

PHOEBE

No, I’m okay, I just—I remember bits of it. More vividly, now, than I did before.

[WHAT FOLLOWS IS THE AFOREMENTIONED DESCRIPTION OF CHILD ABUSE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.]

PHOEBE

Have you seen the stuffed cow sitting on my bed? It’s so old and worn, but it’s one of the most precious things I own. Its name is Baby. It’s, um, a silly name, I know. I used to play pretend with it, though, and act like I was its mother. I cradled it, pretended to feed it. So I named it Baby. [A BEAT, THEN] I didn’t remember why I named it that until now.

My dad hated Baby, though. He hated that I was so attached to a stuffed cow, of all things. He would constantly use Baby to threaten me, holding his ability to take it away over my head, because he knew that was a quick way to make me upset. If it was his choice, I’m sure he would have destroyed it. Not sure why he never did.

One day, when he was in a bad mood, and my mom was at work, I hid Baby inside my closet. He stormed into my room, and demanded for me to give it to him. I lied and said I had no idea where Baby was, but of course he didn’t believe me. He tore through my room, ignoring my pleas for him to stop, until he found Baby and took it away. I was forced to clean up the mess he made before my mom got home.

When she did get home, I instantly went and hugged her legs tightly and sobbed. I told her that Daddy had taken Baby away, and ruined my room. She asked me to take her to my room, so I did, only to find Baby sitting on the bed, staring right back at me.

My dad came in. “Of course I didn’t take the stupid toy,” he said. “She probably just misplaced it.” My mom didn’t argue. I was outraged. How could she believe him? Looking back, however, she knew something was wrong. I know she did. Even as a kid, I could read it on her face. He didn’t give her a choice, though.

[A BEAT.] He let me keep Baby, at least. Though he warned me not to try to tell mom what he did ever again. Otherwise, he would be very upset with me.

[A WET CHUCKLE.] And I didn’t even face the worst of it. I would spend days, weeks even, here with Grandma Doe when my dad was especially bad. That’s why her and I were so close, and why I didn’t remember so much of what my dad did. My mom had to endure most of it, though. That is, until she was finally able to get a divorce. He was arrested for a few years, I never learned what for, but I hope it was for the right reasons. When he got out, my mom got a restraining order against him.

The last time I saw him was my eighth birthday. He didn’t get me anything.

[THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

HOLLY

I’m going to kill him.

PHOEBE

[NERVOUS CHUCKLE] I—I appreciate you caring, but—

HOLLY

[A BIT TOO ANGRY] No. I mean it. If he’s still alive, I’ll kill him.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY STARTLED] I don’t know if he’s still alive. I mean, it’s not like I’ve made an effort to reach out to him, heh.

HOLLY

[A PAUSE, THEN, SINCERE AND EMOTIONAL] I’m so sorry.

PHOEBE

It—It’s okay! Really. I promise. It was a long time ago. It’s just…I’m not sure how much I’m going to remember. As time goes on. I mean, I’m sure I would have been forced to confront my childhood eventually, this is just kind of speeding up the process.

HOLLY

You can always come to me, you know. If it gets to be too much.

PHOEBE

I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Holly. Really.

HOLLY

Of course. Anything I can do. [A PAUSE.] Would a hug be okay?

PHOEBE

[SHE TAKES A SHAKY BREATH.] A hug would be nice.

[THERE ARE FABRIC RUSTLES AS THEY ARE HEARD EMBRACING.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "In every couple there is one who is the historian of the relationship."

Susan Sontag in Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

[AT THE END OF THE CREDITS, THERE IS A BRIEF, HIGH-PITCHED RINGING NOISE, THAT BEGINS TO BREAK UP BEFORE STOPPING ABRUPTLY.]