#i was going to use bees but i don't like bees

[cerisereids]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐀.𝐇.

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x Girly!Assistant!Reader

WC- 7.5k (LORDDDD) (literally belle shut up challenge level impossible)

Summary- With your birthday around the corner, you decide to throw a blowout bash. The people you work with have no idea how to let go. Least of all your boss, Aaron Hotchner. Yet, he doesn't show.

Contains- 18+ MDNI, angst to fluffy smut(ish), girly!reader, reader has long hair she can run her fingers through, spicy but no explicit smut (still 18+ tho don't play), non-explicit sex scene, reader standing on business, discussions of Hotch and Haley's divorce

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto !!

The satisfying click of your white kitten heels fill the hallway as you bounce off the linoleum tiles. You’re in a delicate balancing act, juggling a tray of your famous cupcakes as well as glittery pink invitations. Gold lettering splays across the front ‘You’re Invited!’ They’re cheesy little things you had made at the local print shop, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gloomy office needs some cheer. 

You push the door open with your hip, backing into the room with small little steps as you enter the BAU. Your instantly relieved by a pair of strong arms guiding your through the doorway. “Got it, sugar?” Derek’s voice asks, his hands hovering in precaution. 

“I am just fine! Here! Take one!” You set the cupcake tray down, plucking one out for him, handing it to him with an invitation. His brow quirks, a small smile rising on his lips.

 “What’s all this for?” He asks, bemused. 

“Well, my birthday is coming up, so I thought I’d have a big, blowout, bash! It’s been too long since you guys loosened up, really got to let go and have fun!” You squeal, stepping back slightly as the rest of the team quickly finds the dessert. Like bees to honey, you like to say. 

“So, you decided that instead of celebrating yourself, to insist on us celebrating you?” Emily inquires around a mouthful of cupcake. 

“Pretty much!” You pinch her cheek affectionately, and she giggles. Your gaze turns ever so slightly, catching the window of your boss’ office. Bile rises in your throat. He won’t be so easy to coax out. Both now, and to the party itself. The mere thought of it makes you nauseous. 

Emily saddles up beside you, lightly nudging her elbow with yours. She nods to Aaron’s office, and blood rushes to your cheeks. Your gaze drops to the ground, which you scuff with the bottom of your shoe. You lift your head up, your hair falling down your shoulders like a waterfall. 

“He in?” You ask, resuming your naturally bubbly state, a wide smile plastered over your anxiety. 

“Yup, when is he not?” Emily responds, curious, like a cat. You snap out of your anxious state, giving a playful shrug. You bat your lashes and turn, grabbing the tray and remaining invitations. 

“Hey, I wanted seconds!” Spencer calls after you. You roll your eyes, your clicking heels once again the only noise as you walk away. It’s no secret who you’re going to see. 

Aaron’s office door is slightly ajar, so you enter the same way you did earlier, by hip. His brow quirks upon your arrival, but you don’t forget to clock the way his eyes catch you, scanning up and down your frame. You wore one of your favorite dresses today, a pink, ruffly number that resembles a sunset. It cascades down your body like it was made for you. By the way Aaron’s looking at you, he thinks so, too. The way he looks at you is electric, like a bolt of lightning cracking your spine as you take each other in. Your breath shortens, catching in your throat at the sight of his tired, brown eyes. 

“Hey, big guy,” you lilt, your voice in its usual effervescent tease. You don’t miss the way he flushes down to his neck at the nickname. 

“What is this all about, hm?” he raises a brow, his voice smooth like silk. His eyes widen as you set down the tin of cupcakes, revealing their chocolatey goodness to him. His favorite. You hand him an invitation, nerves bubbling in your stomach as he reads it over. Your cheeks heat, like you’re 17 again waiting for an invite to the prom.

Then, he glances up at you. There’s a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you. You’re not sure if he knows it’s there, but you cherish it. You cherish the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, the world. You cherish the way not a single other colleague receives the exact gaze you do, soft, patient, kind. It’s your best kept secret. 

You breathe out a sigh at that look, relief washing over you like fresh sunlight. 

“Did you make these? They’re beautiful,” he inspects the card in his hands, and your heart thuds against your ribcage, nerves buzzing once again. His nonchalance is like a tightrope, inching you closer either to safety or certain death. 

“Thank you,” you reply. It’s quiet. You’re afraid that if you raise your voice, your heart will come out of your throat. “I make them all myself.”

You settle on his desk, resting a light hip on it while you watch him intently. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face as he takes in the glitter of your eyeshadow, the soft swipes of gloss on your lips. His own are parted, tongue peeking out in a tantalizing way that sets your heart aflame. 

You raise a brow, asserting an effective upper hand. You watch his brow go soft, and you know you have him. It doesn’t take much for you to convince him. Of anything, really. Since you started working for him, he’s taken actual time off (rarely, but he has), eats dinner at a regular time each night, and manages to get a little more sleep. The team calls it witchcraft, sorcery. You’d call it the sheer force of the desire to keep the man you’re deeply in love with alive and healthy. That’d be too complicated, though, so you bat your lashes and accept their praises. 

“That’s really incredible,” it’s soft, his tone. Gentle and low in a way that’s reserved only for you, for these quiet moments in his office. Whether you’re talking about a case, your weekend plans, or the next set of nails you’re getting, he saves this special cadence just for you. Smooth and velvety, liquid chocolate spilling from his tongue. 

“Thank you,” your eyes glimmer as you shift on his desk ever so slightly. Your hip pops toward him in a way that has him licking his lips. Confidence surges through, you sit up taller. “Will you be there?” You bat your lashes, your prettiest doe eyes on full display. “It would mean everything to have you there.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Yay!” You squeal, hopping off his desk. You fix him a cupcake, taking the last one on the tray and placing it delicately on a pink napkin. 

“You’re only allowed to eat this if you’ve had lunch. Have you?” You’re all business again, in the blink of an eye. You poise a sassy hand on your hip, your brow arching. 

“I had a piece of toast and a pickle,” he admits. It’s sheepish, and you roll your eyes. 

“That’s a disgusting combo. Have another piece of toast before you eat that,” you roll your eyes playfully before stalking off. A barely audible ‘yes, ma���am’, follows you out. You pause, smiling to yourself before heading to your desk. 

“You really think he’s gonna show?” Penelope asks, her tongue swirling around her third daiquiri of the evening. You sigh, popping your hands on your hips as you take a step back from your large window, inspecting your decorative work. 

It’s the night before your big party, an event you normally thrive on hosting. Now, though, it’s the cause of the anxiety sparkling inside you, like your heart’s swimming in carbonated water. You adjust the rollers in your hair, the fluffy sleeves of your pink silk robe falling to your elbows as you do so. 

You center yourself for a moment, focusing on the comforting way the delicate fabric frames your body, falling over your tank top and sleep shorts. You wiggle your feet, currently stuffed into pink bunny slippers. Your gaze finds the moon, full and round, you absorb it. You welcome anything that helps you not crush under the debilitating weight of your affections for Aaron Hotchner. 

“I don’t know! He told me he’d be there!” Your voice is antsy, you wring your hands together with a small smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. While Penelope’s brilliant, she’s not a profiler. She’s also drunk. You pray these two things add up in your favor.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him go out. Not since the divorce, but if he were for anybody, it’d be for you. That much I know,” she pats a supportive hand on your shoulder, though it does nothing to quell the nausea that comes from the d-word. 

You’d been a strong reliant for your boss while he’d finalized his divorce, almost a year ago now. Getting him late night coffees, sitting on the couch in his office while he completed paperwork, bringing in little treats just to make him smile. They always did, everything you did garnered a smile out of him. 

That’s why you were teased in your first week on the job, after you’d questioned the team’s comments about their stoic leader. “He smiles all the time, what are you guys talking about?” Their sarcastic grins and chuckling was the first time you were fully aware that the relationship you had with your boss was…different than the others. The amount of time that’s passed since then, the bond you’ve made with your boss, makes your head spin.

Still, you aimed to be respectful everyday. No matter how many details you knew about his issues with Haley, the stress of taking care of Jack while he was away, you kept a professional distance. You would not cross that line. In the year since he’d taken the ring off, though, it’s been…different. A wall has come down, a layer unshed. You don’t know what to do with it, with him. 

“Hey, does this look good over here?” Emily calls, snapping you out of your Aaron-induced haze. You plaster another smile on your face, though this time it’s not too difficult. You were thankful to merely witness J.J. propping Emily up on a stool so she can pin a pink disco ball in the center of your expansive living room. Relief washes over you, the love for your friends momentarily distracting you from the ache in your chest. 

“Looks great, thanks Em!” you pat her ass playfully, laughing when she squeals. 

“Anything for you, my darling!” She calls after you as you make your way through the living room to the kitchen, grabbing your own glass of the elixir that now has Penelope fully slumped forward on your kitchen island. 

“Pen? You good?” You nudge her slightly, and she jumps at the contact. 

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m great! Cool as a cucumber!” She adjusts her own pajamas, a buttery yellow silk set that comes with a matching eye mask. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you pour your own drink. “You really think Aaron will come tomorrow?” You ask her, your voice is meek. You hate it, that this is what he does to you. 

“I would be truly shocked if he didn’t, my sweet,” she answers, and though her words are slightly slurred, her tone is serious. You smile. 

“I agree!” Emily calls, walking into the kitchen to refill her own cup. J.J. trails behind her, nodding emphatically. 

“I mean, have you heard anyone else here call him Aaron? Like…ever?” J.J. says. You jokinglya move your head side to side, rattling the thought around your head. They all giggle at your response, and your cheeks heat up. You rest your chin on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with the giddy group. 

“He’ll show. Don’t even worry about it,” J.J. states, the others nodding in agreement. 

You blow out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink in one swig. 

The bass from the speaker reverberates through your house, the walls nearly shaking from the vibrations. You’re only slightly tipsy, a bit dizzy as you slide open the glass door leading to the patio. Nearly every square inch of the pool is full of people, bodies bobbing around, elbows above water to preserve red solo cups. 

The wind blows through your hair, your eyes falling shut. You try to bask in it, absorb the setting sun as you had with the moon the night before. It’s not working. Aaron still hasn’t shown. Your attempts to not get upset about it are weak, feeble, an embarrassment. You thought fresh air would do you some good, but now, in your tipsy, clouded haze, you scan the crowd of faces. Some of them you know, most of them don’t. Above all else, you still don’t see the one you want. You feel stupid for thinking you would. Your heart splinters, cracks in the foundation breaking the whole. 

You sit on the porch step, your face falling to your hands. What’s wrong with you? Throwing parties is like a love language to you- Gatsby himself would be jealous. It’s not atypical for friends of friends of friends to find themselves in your yard. Tonight, though, you’re upset. Upset that none of them are there for you. Upset that you don’t even matter. Upset that the one person who could fix this feeling hasn’t shown. He isn’t here for you. After everything, everything you have done for him. After he promised. Tears prick the insides of your eyes, and you release a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Party Princess!” You look up to find Penelope, arm in arm with Derek. Both of them look a bit too drunk for their own good. Penelope’s face falls immediately upon seeing your teary gaze, your pouty lips. 

“Oh angel! What’s going on?!” She squeaks, sitting down beside you immediately. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you lean into them instinctively. 

“Someone special not here, pretty girl?” Derek asks, crouching down to meet your eye level. The acknowledgement of your situation only makes the tears fall. 

Penelope forces your head parallel to the ground. “Look down! Don’t let the tears streak your makeup!” You release a wet laugh at that, inspiring laughter from Derek and Penelope as well. You can hear the relief in theirs, that Aaron Hotchner hasn’t rendered you incapable of laughter. 

You feel Derek’s hand over the expanse of your shoulder, a warm, comforting grip that soothes you only slightly. Your gaze is still on the concrete, shame creeping up your spine at your emotions. “I’m sorry, guys,” you splutter, tears falling faster now. 

“No! No, don’t apologize,” Penelope squeals, finding a tissue in her bag and handing it to you. “Blot those pretty eyes, hon, and let’s go dance! Don’t spend your birthday crying over some guy!” 

You do as she says, closing your wet eye so your lash meets the tissue, small bits of mascara left as residue. You finally lift your head up, meeting Derek’s gaze. “There she is!” He smiles, “the most beautiful girl in Quantico.”

“Hey!” Penelope smacks his bicep. He laughs, holding a hand there in a show of faux pain. 

“Sorry, one of the two most beautiful women in Quantico,” he responds, walking backwards to the bar. He grabs you a shot of tequila, your favorite, and propositions you. 

“That’s much better,” Penelope smirks, satisfied. She moves from beside you, ready to assemble a lime and some salt. You stop her, a hand to her forearm. “No need.” You throw back the shot, your head tilting all the way back as you down the burning liquid. It singes your throat, and you wiggle your head from side to side as it goes down. 

That same counterfeit smile curls your lips, your eyes just as sad as they were before. “Let’s party!”

Aaron Hotchner  is a piece of shit. He knows this. His ex-wife knows this. Hell, Jack probably knows it, too. But now she knows it, and for some reason, that’s his final straw. He stands at her front porch, suit jacket long abandoned, tie forcefully loosened from hours of hunching over his desk. His hair is messy, thanks to his fingers running through it every 5 minutes. The bags under his eyes have darkened throughout the night, and he can tell from his reflection in the window that he looks like hell. The last place he should be is at a party, let alone this party.

He takes in her expansive house, a gift she inherited from her parents once they moved to Calabassass, she told him once. The front is made of classic white stone, a baby blue trim framing the door and windows. It looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years, only to fine tune and keep it looking pristine. Though, the perfection on the outside provides a direct contrast to what little he can see going on inside. He has a view of the kitchen from where he stands, empty beer cans line the kitchen island, pink streamers and popped balloons litter the floor. 

He sees the outline of someone familiar enter the kitchen. Penelope, if the bouncing blonde hair streaked with hot pink was any indicator. He watches as she stumbles about, a large figure, Derek, holding her up by the elbows as she attempts to make a mixed drink. He hopes it’s not for herself. He then realizes what a creep he must look like, a dark figure standing alone in front of a house that’s not his, staring in the window at a party he failed to attend. He turns, ready to leave, firm in his decision that this was all a big mistake to begin with. 

He stops, though from the opening of the door. He whips his head around, relief and disappointment washing over him to see Emily. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if it had been her opening the door. Fall to his knees, grovel, probably. His cheeks tint a bright red at her knowing, disappointed stare. “You fucked up tonight, Hotchner,” her affirming tone washes over him like he’s been dipped in acid, singeing his skin and finding its way to his guts. He’s nothing but a puddle. 

“Where is she?” He asks. It’s meek, feeble. A tone nobody he’s ever worked with heard him use. Emily raises her brow at that, both in shock and suspicion. 

“The backyard, near the pool. She’s had a lot to drink, though. So be careful. You may not be someone she wants to see right now.” Emily’s pitiful smile only makes him feel worse. He can’t leave now that he’s been spotted, though. It would catapult him from normal amounts of jackass to the jackass Olympics, something he’d never be able to recover from. Not when it comes to her. 

He follows Emily in, the remnants of what seemed like a blowout bash now diluted to a handful of bodies in each room. Most of them are the team, who are shooting him looks of shock and pity as he makes his way through the house. His heart beats through his ears as he slides the glass door open, stepping under the pink balloon arch to find her. 

She’s sitting alone on the edge of the pool, her feet dipping in slightly. He takes her in, giving him a brief moment of selfish reprieve before she sees him, before he has to confront the ways in which he’s broken her heart tonight. A floral pink dress flows around her, the sleeves billowing in the wind. The ruffles of the tiered dress are bunched around her hips as she sits, the hemline raised to prevent wetting the fabric. She’s a vision, the pale moonlight ghosting over her frame like a spotlight made just for her. His heart breaks. All of this, and he’s left her so lonely. He is a piece of shit. 

The creak of the porch step calls her attention, her head swinging around her shoulder to see who’s come to join her. The look on her face as she sees him…it’s too much to put into words, even for a profiler as experienced as Aaron. He watches each emotion cross her face. Her instinctual reaction was relief, her eyes brightening like a lightning flash through his heart. Her brows furrow soon after, discontent clouding her features. Anger is soon to follow, the pink gloss on her lips shining as they curve downward. 

She lands on anger. Stays there as she moves to stand, not caring where the water splashes as she swings her feet out of the pool. She stomps over to him, feet smacking against the pool deck as she barrels into him. The force is light, her drunken state impacting the collision. He still stumbles a bit, catching both her and himself as they tumble. 

“Where were you?!” she spits, the fire in her eyes paralyzing. He’s speechless. “I waited for you! I waited for you all night! You said- you said you’d be there! You promised!” Her voice gets louder with each syllable, her fists colliding into his chest with each breath. She turns, walking toward the water once more. 

He follows slowly, tentative. His hand reaches to her elbow, fingers lightly touching the skin. She turns, smacking his hand away. He flinches at the sudden contact, not expecting such force from her. “No!” She exclaims. Tears prick her eyes now, her hand is shaking as she holds up a finger in his face. Aaron’s heart splinters at the sight, guilt searing his veins like a deadly disease. 

“You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to act like you’re the victim here. You. Didn’t. Show.” She spits, venom punching every word. He can see the group forming at the door out of his peripheral vision. It’s just the team, thankfully. Though he knows he’s lost this right, he’s relieved random strangers aren’t privy to his colossal fuck up. 

“God, I feel so fucking stupid!” She exclaims, running ten fingers through perfectly tousled hair. “Sitting here in this dress, that I picked out for you, at this party, that I only threw for you!” Her voice cracks on that last word, tears finally spilling over her lash line. 

“Me?” He mumbles. It’s the first word he’s said to her all night. It makes him feel like an idiot. There’s heat in her gaze, a deadly forest fire. But she’s silent. He keeps going. “You threw this party for me?” He sounds dumb. He knows it even before she rolls her eyes. A fantastic idiot, that’s what he is. 

“God, Aaron!” She’s yelling, now. The use of his first name knocks the wind out of him every time. This time, though, with the pain lacing her tone, it hits like a tornado. “For the best fucking profiler in fucking America, you have no clue how to read people!” 

He raises a brow at this, and she yanks at the root of her hair, a loud, desperate, ‘ugh!’ tearing from her lips. “I’m so hurt, Aaron, You hurt me. I’m so angry, and I’m so, so in love with you, that I’ll probably fucking forgive you in the morning.”

The words hit him like a bullet train, slicing him clean in half. His mouth falls open, a small ‘o’ that only serves to make him stupider. She stalks over to the bar on the deep end of the pool, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of vodka from the interior. She takes a long swig, eyes falling closed. Tears fall down her cheeks, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. She stumbles a bit, nearing the edge of the water, and his heart rate picks up. He makes the mistake of reaching for the bottle. It only results in a forceful shove, the bottle falling between the two and shattering on the ground. 

Her fury only intensifies now. Her vindictive gaze could turn him to stone. He looks down at the mess, catching her shoeless feet. He grips her wrist before she can move. Her bare feet, drunken state, and the shards of broken glass are a recipe for disaster. He doesn’t care how big of an asshole he is, how much she might hate him right now, but he can’t risk letting her get hurt even more. He’s expecting her reaction, an immediate instinct to shove him off of her. He can’t even register the impact it has on his already fragile heart, because in her alcohol induced frenzy, her shove knocks them both in the water. 

The splash envelops Aaron like a slap to the face. He opens his eyes immediately, and he doesn’t even register the sting of the chlorine in his eyes. His only mission is to find her, to make sure she’s safe. He sloppily wraps himself around her, bringing them up to the surface. They both gasp upon arrival, breathing as if they’d never get the privilege again. He splays a hand across her back, pushing her toward him until they’re chest-to-chest, until she can’t wriggle out of his grasp. He won’t let her go until she’s safely out of the water.

The frantic rise and fall of her chest against his steadies him. It’s enough to ground him, to help him find his bearings as he spots the ladder leading out of the pool. He feels her relax slightly in his arms as he begins to move, her own wrapping around his neck. He lets out the smallest sigh of relief. She doesn’t completely hate him. With how he acted tonight, he’s surprised he’s even been afforded that much. 

He lets her go first, hands finding her waist and lifting her to the first step. His hands hover around her as she stumbles up the ladder, ready for any possible disaster to strike. He follows quickly, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin in a way that would make him feel exposed around anyone else. He rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders, shaking his hair out like a dog. She flinches when he sprays her, giggling quietly. The sweet, fluttering noise is contagious, Aaron laughs himself before muttering a quiet, “sorry.” 

He watches her face change as she remembers again. Remember why they ended up in the pool,  why she’s mad at him in the first place. Light, joyful eyes darken into a cloudy, stormy gaze. Her eyes are like a bow and arrow aimed right at his heart, ready for the kill. He’s ready to admit defeat, to just lay there and let her skin and eat him alive. He avoids her gaze. Cowardly, he knows. 

“So. Fucking. Unfair.” They’re punctuated by a look of desperation and disdain, desire and destruction. His head shoots up again at that, shame creeping up his spine once more. It settles in his neck, constricts his airflow. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve treated you terribly tonight and-”

He’s cut off by a groan that could spark an earthquake. She pulls at the roots of her wet hair in frustration. “Not that. Well- partially that. It’s fucking unfair that you get to skip my party, break my heart, show up, and then emerge from my pool looking like some sort of Adonis. Un-fucking fair, Aaron Hotchner.”

She moves closer to him with each passing word, to the point where his name is merely a whisper, uttered to him only inches from his own face. He studies her, the water droplets falling down her tear-stained face, the look in her eye, now softened to one of desperate devotion, despite all he’s put her through tonight. She’s breathtaking. Just as she was the day they first met, and everyday since then. An otherworldly beauty that has seemed to captivate him, mind, body, and soul. 

She inches even closer, her fingernails raking up his bare forearms. A shiver unzips his spine, invoking a light chuckle from her. As her lips inch ever so closer to his own, he nearly lets himself get lost in it. When she releases a shaky sigh against his mouth, the potent stench of vodka strongly reminds him that she is in no place for such an activity tonight. He scoops her up, folding her over his shoulder as he turns to get her indoors. 

He ignores her squeals of protest, the splattering of her palms on his back, though he can’t help but imagine this exact scenario in a different light- one where she’s sober, and he’s carrying her through his bedroom door. He opens the glass door with one hand, sliding it the rest of the way with his hip. He thanks his lucky stars that the only people left are Penelope and Derek, who likely stayed in case of any possible drownings. He nods at them, a succinct, ‘we’re good, get out.’

The message is heard clearly, the two of them shuffling out the door, but not before taking multiple glances at their boss, who’s carrying his hammered employee like a sack of potatoes. He’s in for an absolute earful come Monday, he’s sure of it. 

Her room is easy to spot, a bright pink door with her name plastered at the top. He smiles to himself, his heart swelling at the way she revels in her inner child. Sparkly room decor, birthday party invitations, a birthday party in general. He’s almost envious of the way she effortlessly mixes her childish woe with her adult sophistication. Even around the office, she clacks around in whatever heel came out of her rotating closet that morning, all while spouting off fine tuned details of any current or prospective cases. 

These are things he’s lost touch with as he’s aged, that whimsy, the wild eyed gaze she gives to new challenges. He hopes she never lets it go. He hopes she’ll be 80 with bedazzled glasses and  the best hair in the room. Knowing her, he has nothing to worry about in that regard. 

He plops her down on the large couch on the far end of her room, not wanting to douse her bed with chlorine. She needs a good night’s sleep. She whines as she attempts to wiggle out of her party dress, the straps proving to be very stubborn as she maneuvers around the couch. He turns instinctively as she figures it out, her dress bunching around her thighs before she lifts it up over her head. The small sliver of thigh he did see is burned into his brain forever, though. There’s no escaping that. 

“Aaron, I need my pajamas,” her voice is soft, tired. 

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Where are they, honey?”

He practically hears her gleam at his words. He knows she’s basking in his pet name the way she always does, like a cat who got the cream. “Top drawer. I want the silk pink set,” her voice has a certain lilt to it now that nearly has his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Pink silk. He’ll die. He could just die. It would probably be less painful than handling her delicate sleepwear, throwing it behind him without turning around. 

She giggles as she puts it on. “You can look now. I’m all covered.”

He turns, eyes trained on the floor, just in case. He’s truly not prepared for what he sees when he turns around. Her smooth legs are crossed at the ankle, her plush thighs filling out the fabric of her soft pajamas. The top is barely enough fabric to be called such, a thin tank top leaving so little to the imagination, he nearly combusts on the spot. The peaks of her nipples are enough to do him in permanently, to put him in the ground for all eternity. He’d deserve it, too. 

“I can’t move. Need you to get me to bed,” she mumbles, her body falling limp against the couch. He rolls his eyes, moving to scoop her in his arms, bridal style this time. The implication makes him choke on his own spit. 

“Wait!” She exclaims, just as he’s reached the foot of her bed. He stops in his tracks. “Need to get the rest of my makeup off, Aaron. Need the bathroom.” Her head falls against his chest, and he can’t say no. Sighing, he adjusts her in his arms and carries her to the ensuite bathroom. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet, covered in a pink, fuzzy fabric. She wiggles, getting comfortable as her eyes fall shut. 

“The soft, fuzzy washcloth on the counter automatically takes off makeup with water. If you could just wet it, I can get the rest.” She’s truly sleepy now, the alcohol taking her over almost entirely now. 

He won’t make her do all of that work, not after everything he’s put her through tonight. He heeds only part of her request, wetting the washcloth and ringing out the excess water. He crouches in front of her, putting a gentle hand to her jaw as he begins to lightly scrub the remaining bits of makeup off. She sighs, one of content and exhaustion. His heart soars. He thinks he may have to start going back to church just to make up for the grace he’s been granted tonight. 

After he moves through the next two steps- cleanser, then moisturizer, per her instruction- they’re back where they started, at the edge of her bed, her nestled in his arms. He lays her down gently, turning to sleep on her couch downstairs. He’s stopped in his tracks with a single tug to the wrist. His heart stops. 

“Stay,” she mumbles. He’s powerless. He peels off his wet clothes, making peace with sleeping in damp underwear, before she mumbles something more. “There’s extra sweatpants in the room to the right. Take them.” He has no choice but to listen. 

You wake with a pounding head, the morning light filtering in like a knife designed to split you in two. You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the sober reality you’ve been thrust back into. You’re caught off guard when you roll into an absolute brick wall of a man, panic rising in your throat before you realise who it is. The only positive is that he’s familiar, that you know it’s not some random guy you hooked up with and let stay the night. On the other side of that coin, you’re waking up next to your boss, the day after you confessed your love for him. 

The arrival of that memory triggers the rest, and they flood in like a broken dam. Your tears, the vodka, the broken glass, the pool, the way his pecs looked in his white shirt, soaked to the bone and clinging to his chest. 

You shake off the thought, though the motion only wakes Aaron. You curse lightly under your breath. It takes everything in you not to crumble at the raspy groan Aaron lets out, seemingly just as surprised to be waking up in a foreign environment. His eyes widen when they find you, pure shock lacing his features before he slowly pieces together the events of the night before. A small smile curves your lips. “Good morning, party pooper.”

Aaron at least has enough gentlemanly instinct to make breakfast. He’s quick to tie your pink apron around his waist, cracking eggs and frying bacon with ease. You perch on one of the stools at your kitchen island, still littered with beer cans and empty solo cups. You sip your coffee as you watch him. You hate how gorgeous he is, how he has the right to look like that even when you’re mad at him. 

Sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lack of a shirt tantalizing. Your eyes zone in on the slivers of skin afforded beyond the apron. You squeeze your thighs together at the hair on his tummy, the hair that trails lower, and lower…

You jump as he puts a plate in front of you, not expecting for him to be done so soon. “Oh!” You squeal, the sound muffled slightly by your coffee mug. You’re using the glass dish as a crutch now, holding it in front of your face like a shield. You know he can tell exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t stop you. He should know how you’re feeling right now, with him in front of you, looking even more delectable than the fresh, sizzling bacon. But he’s still the same man that broke your heart merely hours ago. 

He plates himself before nodding his head towards the semi-clean kitchen table. “Let’s eat there, so that way we’re not talking over pyramids of Sam Adams.”

You smile softly at this, swinging your legs around to hop off the stool. He takes your plate before you can, sitting it at the head of the table. You sit, and take a bite. It takes everything in you not to moan. If it weren’t for last night, maybe you would’ve. You sit in silence for a moment, soft chewing and forks clinking against plates the only noise. The only noise, at least, until Aaron looks directly at you. 

“I’m so sorry. I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for how I’ve treated you. I just- I couldn’t…” his voice trails off. The hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Couldn’t what?” It’s quiet as it leaves your lips, hanging between you two like a ticking time bomb. His eyes flit to the table, his hands clasped together in what looks like silent, desperate, prayer. 

“I couldn’t face rejection again,” he states, plainly. The wheels start turning in your head. Moving, but still unsure of the destination. “You saw so many details of my divorce, the ugly ins and outs. I couldn’t even fathom the thought that you’d be- that you would have any sort of feeling towards me. That you would love me in the way that I love you. Now that I know what I know…”

You’re there. You’ve reached your destination, and you can’t help but collapse your head into your hands and laugh at the stupidity of it all. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the noise you emit, but it’s all worth it at the smile that appears on his own face, cheeks bunching up around his eyes. It makes your heart swell. 

“So, you’re telling me…you didn’t come to my party because you were afraid I’d reject your feelings, and I spent the entire night drinking and crying on rotation because I thought you were rejecting me…” You spell it out, wild hand motions matching the absurdity of the situation. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He smiles, and heat rises to your cheeks. A silence settles over you then, the gravity of what this means hitting the both of you like a truck. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, though I know that sounds redundant because of my actions.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle at that, a huff of air conveying multiple emotions at once. “Aaron…I need to know that you won’t just run when things get hard. I know that you and Haley had something…else. I don’t want to be a repeat of that in your healing journey, or get in the way of your duties with Jack, or-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, a warm hand grazing your forearm over the table. “You’re not just a part of my healing journey. I learned a lot when Haley left me. You saw it. You held a heavy hand in that change. You gave me something to strive for, a glimmer after I’d thought I messed everything up. And instead of treating you the way I know you deserve, I ran right back to my old patterns. I can’t explain how sorry I am. How can I make it up to you?”

You raise a tentative brow. “The self awareness is a good sign, Aaron, but I need you to know that I’m a one and done kind of girl. Typically a none and done kind of girl. I’m making a very special exception here, sir.” He nods at this, eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to keep me if you keep your old patterns. It’s one or the other, and you can make it up to me by making that decision. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He nods emphatically, fingers lacing between yours across the table. You sigh, a true, genuine smile on your face for the first time since before last night. You finish your breakfast in a content silence before dragging him back up to your room. 

“It’s one of the only spots in the house not littered with alcohol!” You’d told him, your reasoning quite sound in your eyes. Aaron rolls his, though a smile persists anyway. 

You fall onto your mattress, lifting your arms up for Aaron to join you. He lays beside you, your finger grazing along the waistline of his sweatpants. You revel in the way he shivers at the contact. He makes himself comfortable and you sling a leg across his hips, neck craning up to look in his eyes. A tense silence falls over you two then, thick and wanting. He tests the waters, slowly inching his face closer to yours. You bridge the gap, greedily smashing his lips to yours. 

He kisses you like a man starved, his arms curling around your back as he tries to consume as much of you as possible. You break from the kiss, only for him to pepper multiple tiny ones on your lips, his own drifting to your chin, your jaw, your neck. You turn on your side so your chest to chest with him, the feeling of your tits pressed up against his was enough to make your head spin. His rigid body relaxes in your arms as his lips find yours again. 

You clutch at his shoulders, a small whimper fleeing your lips in between greedy kisses. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, hands finding the soft skin under your sleep tank. “Yeah?” you coo, and he groans. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, and you clench your thighs together. His ravenous hands frantically search for every spare part of your body they can find. “Walking around the office in those skirts, those cute fucking heels,” he punctuates his statement with more kisses. Your head is spinning. 

“I’m glad you like them, I pick them out just to drive you crazy,” you joke, and revel in the way his eyes roll back in his head. You rock against his hard length, and he shudders. 

“I need you. Now.”

Aaron lays still under the covers, fingertips raking up and down her back as if she’s made of porcelain. He releases a shaky breath, lips pressing to the top of her head. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, and the selfish part of him wants her awake, to be there with him, to kiss him some more. The nurturing part of him knows that she needs the sleep, that her hangover likely isn’t helping in her fight to stay conscious. 

“I can hear you thinking, y’know?” she murmurs, her words smushed in his chest. He laughs, a small, breathy sound escaping his lips. 

“Yeah?” He inquires, voice coated thick with love. “Just thinking about you. About what you need to feel better,” he exaggerates this point by rubbing thick fingers along her scalp. She shudders in response. 

“Think I need to sleep,” she mumbles, her lids half shut. 

“I think you do, too,” he answers, his never ending smile still on his face. “But I want to be with youuuu,” she drags out the last word, her lips pouty. He kisses them eagerly. She responds with the same fervor, her arms slinking around his neck. 

He can feel himself stir again, his now naked frame hiding nothing from the woman in his arms. 

“I think you want the same thing,” she says, suggestively. Her eyebrows wiggle as her fingers slide dangerously low. Against his body’s wishes, he grips her wrist gently. She pouts again. He kisses her again. He’ll never get tired of it. 

“Boo!” She pouts, and it’s so adorable he almost pulls her on his lap to finish what they started. 

“You need sleep, honey. I’m going to clean up downstairs, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods as he slides out of bed. He jumps when she swats his ass. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, but she just smiles, resting her head on her propped hand. 

“What? Like it’s my fault you have a cute butt!” She shrugs. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he moves to put on his now-dry clothes from last night. 

“Sleep,” He orders. She wiggles her brows in challenge. 

It takes all his will power to leave her there, naked and wanting. It’s for the best right now, for both of them. Her lids have returned to their half closed state, and he ghosts another kiss over her lips before he goes. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too. Get some rest.”

“As long as you’re here when I wake up,” she mutters, nestling into her pillow. 

After last night, he couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 10- Static Amongst Memories

A/N: Guess who’s back after not existing for almost two weeks 🧍🏽 not my fault (totally my fault I forgot about I had to write instead of daydreaming)

Dick held the mantel of being the big brother they can rely on. He couldn’t say no to his baby brothers and sisters, especially when they feel low. He loves his family, seeing it expand over the years he knew them like the back of his hand.

Yet ever since a week ago he felt like shredding that mantel to pieces. He couldn’t even imagine being the best brother after failing you, losing you, seeing you in that grave made him fall into disparity.

“I-Is it done? Did you finally get to my baby bird? Are we going to see them one last time?” He asked in a frantic manner, gripping the back of Barbara’s chair, causing her to scowl at him and swatted his hand away.

“Back off birdbrain, we’re all wanting to see them,” She hissed at him, her calm demeanor didn’t hide her shaking hands that were filled with excitement and dread. The Bat Cave was filled with the entire family, all waiting around as the process of infiltrating your phone was almost complete.

She wanted to see how truly a genius you were, but it made the fact she didn’t see you as you, and that made her feel horrible because she saw you the same way people saw her when she was first bound it her wheelchair. She swore to never make others feel weak for who they are.

God, this whole family is full of hypocrites.

“Dick done with his aneurysm?” Jason asked while limping back to the Bat computer. It was a mere few moments after his attempted murder on the bee beast, being scolded heavily by Bruce and Alfred before his broke wrist was tended to.

"Look," Damien spoke up, "Whatever we will see, it'll be out of respect and closure... even if we don't deserve it," Ever since your death, Damien has gone through a roller coaster of emotions, your room, photos, now these videos he inspected very single thing just to understand what he failed to see all thise time.

“So you have managed to break through the H.I.V.E defense, congratulations! ~🐝”

A cheery robotic voice popped that caused everyone to scramble and stand right in front of the computer. Barbara grinned widely in triumphant pride before clicking on the keyboard.

“The few reasons to do so is that if my creator has had their device stolen, a simple hacker attempting to get a hard-on for getting through strong encryption, or that my creator has sadly passed, ~🐝”

Duke and Alfred looked at each other, hugging out breathless laughs. That was created by you alright, even if one of them knew you for hours, it was definitely your humor.

“I must advise you to handle with my creator’s mind with care, they were a very gentle soul, ~🐝”

With a glitch and a static, the voice went silent before beginning to upload files of videos into the Bat Computer. Barbara swallowed hard, before pressing play to the first video ever recorded.

The family went silent when the video showed the camera behind shaken around, being set up before staying still, showing off the empty warehouse. Nobody appeared on screen for a moment before a child like voice began to make “duuuun, dun dundun” sounds and a cardboard with scribbles that appeared to be earth came on screen.

“Earth!!” A very young voice that belonged to you years ago spoke “What is it? A floating rock drifting in space? A massive planet filled with awesome life and color? And why is it considered to be the greatest?” You dramatically asked.

The cardboard was thrown to the side, and there you were. You were only 10 years old, yet your smile never changed in Alfred’s eyes. His gloved hands tighten around the chair, tears welling up as you giggled on screen.

“Simple. Plants and animals! They were first roaming the earth way before the mere concept of humans! And plants are like the superheroes to them! They feed us, give us protection, and provided materials to make our world today!” You waved your arms up in the air, giggling while you yelped when the camera unfocused on you, frantically fixing it.

“But that’s the problem. Humans are getting greedy and hurting this planet, causing the bee population to go out rapidly! Which is where we come in!” You stepped out of view, before pulling a cart with flourishing plants on top, cloth covering a large object underneath.

“(M/N) Raine, a wonderful and beautiful woman who spent her life on saving those bees. She had a whole group to help her, even got funded by The Bruce Wayne!” Another scramble and you held up a different cardboard that had a photo taped to it of your mother, your finger pressing on a crude drawing of the Wayne Enterprise logo.

“Right before he ghosted her and got her pregnant like the slut he was,” You then bluntly stated, “But that doesn’t matter! Because despite her no longer being here… I-I made it my goal to keep her legacy alive,” You trailed off, eyes drifting away before clearing your throat.

Meanwhile, Bruce watched with his heart aching at the fact you saw so lowly of him. Though he cannot blame you, what you said was true, and he regrets it every single day until he dies.

“Hello, my name is (Name) Raine Way… Raine, and this is day one of my re-research to bring Project: Honey back! For you, mama!” You swirled in your chair, giggling as you pulled the cloth off the cart, revealing the small beehive that belonged to your mother. You tended to it all this time even after a year being away.

The video ended, showing the black screen that reflected the whole Wayne Family. Some stared in awe, others letting their tears fall. You were so small, so alone in the Manor yet you still smiled as bright as the sun.

“Show us more,” Bruce managed to choke out, placing a shoulder on Barbara’s shoulder. She nodded and clicked on another.

~

“Day 15, all these papers don’t make sense!” You whined, holding up old papers, with complex math equations and blueprints of bees invoking over complicating words.

“But that’s why mama was so smart! She could understand this…” The look in your eyes the kids knew very well. Missing your parents was hard, but they had each other to comfort. But not you.

~

“Day 46, and the bees have hatched their new queen!” You beamed, “Aaand, guess what? Bruce took in another kid! His name is Jason, and he’s so nice to me! My new big brother!” You rambled on as you let a bee perched on your finger.

Dick’s heart shattered. He never was mentioned once, and Jason got the title of big brother? He… deserved it.

~

“Day 847… JayJay is…” You hiccuped, “I don’t know why… how… but he’s-,” You couldn’t finish the recording as you broke down, sobbing into your hands as you scrambled for the camera, cutting it off quickly.

Tim gripped Jason’s hand as he felt his brother shudder ragged breaths. It was a hard blow to remember that day, he was selfish to not see how it truly affected everyone.

~

“I think this is day 1034? Wow,” You breathed out, looking older, “Guess helping for the greater good takes a while, huh?” You looked tired, with a terrible black eye on your left side.

Jason remembered. The day he returned, he punched your face out of anger. But it wasn’t for you. Never towards you he would be angry.

~

“Day 2304, Just had to shake off a dog attack from… a brat,” You tried to joke, but there was bitterness in your tone, rubbing the bandaged area on your arm.

Damien winced ever so slightly and looked away. That damn scar on your forehead stayed permanently traced on your skin the moment he arrived. He made it your problem for him not understanding anything outside the League of Assassins.

~

“Day-! Um… well, it’s my 15th birthday,” You gave a little cheer, “Wanted to try and ask Cass and Steph to hang out… didn’t even acknowledge me,” You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath before smiling again when your bees began to swarm the sweet fruits you brought them.

Steph looked down in shame, Cass clutching the photo that held you and your mother she took from the warehouse.

~

“Another kid came in today… his name was Duke,” That was all you said, tiredly looking at the camera before moving on with your bee process, as if he wasn’t worth mentioning.

It hurt Duke deeply, but he knew it wasn’t personal truly. The others swept him away before he had the chance to know you, and he shamefully admitted he never bothered to see you again since then.

~

“Day… whatever,” It was a 16 year old you. Only recorded a month ago, you still have the awkward yet bright smile. However, the smile you had was a tired one, one that looked pitiful and pathetic.

“Not really a day to log for important things. Just a way to vent I guess,” You shrugged, before slumping over the desk and rubbing your face, inhaling shakily.

“My so-called family apparently did a family portrait when I was at school… couldn’t even be bothered to interrupt them so I just snuck behind them to my room,” You snapped bitterly, fiddling with your sleeve.

“Not only that, but Damien decided to get me into trouble again… I hate that little rat,” You hissed, before your lips quivered ever so slightly.

“I’m tired…” You finally admitted, “I’ve been trying for years to get things right, but all deemed failures… no breakthroughs, no discoveries, no legacy,” You rubbed your hand across your face.

“And the worst part? I have no one to lean to…” Tilting your head up you blinked any years away. It broke their hearts seeing you cry, why now should they feel guilt for witnessing you cry?

“My family… I can’t keep living there any longer. I have a father who doesn’t even look at me, siblings who never gave me a hint of acknowledgment unless it’s only to torment me… but at least I have a father figure, a-and a mentor!” Your wavy lips turned into a small smile, trying to cheer yourself up.

“Her name is Ivy, and she’s amazing with plants! I told her all about my love for bees, plants and animals! Sure, she’s one of the most deadliest criminals in Gotham for trying to replace humans with plant mutated corpses, but so what?” You awkwardly smiled, before coughing and sucking your teeth in at what you said.

“Poison Ivy…” Bruce mumbled, eyes wide in realization. How could he have been so stupid for not figuring it out?! Where you knew about plants so much in your journals, ones where they were extinct too, either you were into books too much… or you had a little tutoring from the best of the best plant lover.

“She even asked me who my family was so she could grind them into fertilizer for my “siblings”? And take me away from Gotham… okay now that I think about what she said-,” You scratched your neck, eyes widened at how crazy you must’ve sounded, but let out another awkward laugh.

“B-but anyways, haven’t told her who my family was, because you know. Not like it matters, since once I publish my mother’s research, I’ll be out of there and living in my own home, with my friends, and Ivy, and even Alfred!” You gave the same old determined bright smile before cutting the video short.

“That plant bastard,” Tim hissed after a moment, “Of course, she must’ve had brainwashed (Name) into their death,” Maybe he wanted someone else to put the blame on, or maybe truly Ivy was manipulating you all along, but that wasn’t true. They know nothing of your trust in others, even if it might be obviously to the point of naivety.

“Do we really know master (Name) enough to claim such things?” Alfred muttered, causing Tim to stagger slightly and rubbed his arm.

The last recording you made, was dated to the night where you were taken away from them.

“I don’t want to see this moment again,” Steph muttered, attempting to move away, yet her eyes still trailed up to the screen as Barbara hesitantly clicked on the very last video you made.

The video immediately began frantic breathing, the loud sounds of rain hitting metal was heard as the camera was shakily being tossed around before half-hazardously getting set up on a stand.

"Project: Honey," You began, "An intense research study on genetically altering the DNA and structure of the honeybee. To provide better insight on saving endangered plants and to uprise the declining bee population," You swallowed hard, preventing more tears from falling.

You were pacing around the warehouse, grabbing whatever you needed going in and out of frame, mumbling like a madman. Duke watched uncomfortably seeing you act like this. It unnerved that it was the same you when you were smiling with joy hanging out with him earlier that day.

Bruce watched as his child, the one he was meant to love and protect, breaking out after he destroyed the last thing you ever cared about in the Manor. How could he screw up this badly?

"Final test, what more can you push yourself into being a part of your research than being just like a bee?" You asked yourself, holding the jar up in the light, "For you, mama," And with that, you took a small sip.

Then another, then another. Tim and Cass winced at how you became more desperate in drinking more honey, mumbling about how delicious it was, tilting it until the honey was all gone.

Then silence.

Then it all started.

The horrific, unimaginable horror recorded for them all to see. Alfred stumbled back as if he was slapped, face pale and his hands shook. Dick covered his mouth and choked. Jason felt like throwing up, along with Steph as she looked away. Cass couldn’t bear your screams and the disgusting noises of flesh tearing. Duke was mortified, bile rising in his throat before vomiting. Barbara pushed her wheelchair away and gagged as the sounds boomed across the cave.

Then… silence. Bruce managed to stay still the whole time, horrified at what he witnessed. The bee beast… the one they saw hovering over your corpse… was you all along. The camera was then knocked over and froze mid recording when the sound of the glass roof shattered. Then silence once more.

No one dared to say a word, not a single movement as they took in what they saw, and what they realized.

“It was them…” Jason stumbled back, causing all eyes to be on him, “W-When I tried to attack it… them… It was Bumble all along… a-and I tried to kill them,” That’s when all hell broke loose.

“W-where are they now?!” “They must be all alone and scared! Of us!” “I tried to kill them…” “Oh god, are they even still alive?!” “They must be…” “Poison Ivy probably has them being tortured as we speak!” “We have to search the whole city!” We don’t even know if they’re still in Gotham as all!!” All these voices broke amongst each other, all filled with shame, fear, and rage.

Meanwhile, Bruce’s fearful eyes turned to Alfred, the one who truly knew you yet never did, the one who cared yet was never there to protect you, the one who loved you yet never was enough.

“Alfred…?” He whispered out, before flinching when a tear fell down the butler’s face, eyes shiny and hands trembling. All Alfred managed to say was weak, yet it was clear enough for all to hear.

“I need to get my baby back,”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

They say there’s two reactions to danger: Fight or flight. In your bees’ case, it was freeze. Older workers protected the little ones, drones high alert, your mother’s beehive bused so loudly it shook the entire warehouse.

“My my! A party? I must say, you simply cannot call this a party without inviting entertainment!” The raspy and psychotic tone that fell into manic giggles caused the whole hive to go silent.

No one spoke, simply staring at the clown and his goons piling inside, guns drawn and pointing at them. The glow from the hive began to dim completely, the tense feeling filled the air.

“Now, which one of you sweet little insects is the leader?” Joker asked in a fake sweet tone, crouching down to look at the drones as if he was talking to children. And in a way, he was, the youngest drones were 12.

A 14 year old worker snarled at the sight of Joker, horrid memories of her last encounter with the clown involving her parents and Joker Gas rose her rage. An older drone sensed her fear and mixed rage, stopping the kid before anything she does anything stupid.

Then, a sudden loud thump shook the ground, all heads snapped at the dictation to the gigantic figure standing in the center of the hive. Joker clapped his hands delightfully and giggled.

“Wonderful! Say, something about you seems familiar? Have we had band practice before?” Joker pointed a finger, grin wide as ever, yet you stayed silent. He playfully placed a finger on his chin, thinking and squinting his eyes as he stared into yours.

“Yes… I recognize you! Hahahaha!!” Joker clapped again, “Those eyes are always a show for the light!” He waved his hands up, signaling his clown goons to raise their guns higher, causing your drones and workers to back away out of fear.

“You surely changed a bit, but I know your eyes anywhere!!” He grinned, “You’re that child belonging to that bee loving scientist! Lovely woman, I admit!” The drones and workers held disgusted expressions when Joker licked his lips at the thought of your mother.

Yet you stayed silent.

“A beauty in one’s eye, I admit, but still not amusing enough to spare her life however,” He clicked his tongue in feign sadness, shaking his head as if her death was a mere inconvenience. Your antennas twitch wildly, causing the others to snarl at him.

“They said it was a mugger, but oh ho ho!! I knew better!!” He cackled, “A simple accident on my end, one of my loyal minions had a bit of pent up anger, took it out on poor dear mother!” He faked a horrified gasp, pointing his gun at his head and pretended to shoot his head, grinning as he could practically hear your heart stop.

“But that’s neither here nor there, I supposed you want to know the reason I’m here! Funny story, really!” He kept on laughing. His stupid, irritating, psychotic laugh that made your anger rise more and more.

Your emotions vibrated heavily through the hive, causing your drones and worker’s antennas to twitch with rage, your mother’s beehive glowed in a searing bright light as Joker raised his gun.

“You see, Cobblepot has really irked me lately, and he totally crossed the line! Do I decide to be a little petty, and bring your head on a platter to him!” He did a shrugging motion, one hand on his hip and the other holding the wild lazily as if this was just another Tuesday.

His stupid smile still there.

“A reminder to him that I. Do not. Like to be undermined by,” He cocked his revolver, his face swirled into a serious sneer before grinning again, “You’ll understand when you’re older, kiddo! Or rather… guess maybe not!!” He lets out a cackle before snapping his fingers, and his clown goons pointed their guns at your drones and workers.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

The hive wasn’t filled with screams, no terror, no nothing. The Joker still had his manic grin, yet it faltered ever so slightly after the dust has finally settled. His clown goons lowered their weapons a little, searching for the bodies they assumed to take, but not a single drop of blood.

Between the clown and the drones, was a bright orange glowing wall of honey, one that you controlled with a single lift from your arms. A glint in your eyes priced Joker’s own eyes, grin getting a little wider as you swung your arms down to release the wall of honey.

With a snap of your fingers, your drones pushed the workers back and lunged at the clown goons with such speed it was merely a blink of an eye that they attacked. Joker took a stumble back, eyes darting at the sounds of the screams from his goons, the darkness only illuminating so little of silver glints from the moonlight.

The silver glints from sharp objects digging into the skin of the clown goons, cries and screams continued before Joker looked back, only to see glowing eyes in the shadows, and the looming figure of your bright body staring him down.

The Joker could only let out a hysterical giggle before taking another stumbled and tripping over a gun, falling as you sneered at him with disgust and hate.

“You dare enter my home,” One step closer to this pathetic clown.

“Terrorize my drones,” One terrified scream from one of his goon’s before muffled by honey.

“Insult my mother,” One constant cackle from Joker.

“Yet dare to expect me to laugh at my own demise?” One last step you grabbed his throat tightly, claws digging into his pale skin.

“When a wasp intrudes into a hive, the bees kills the wasp by lots of excess heat produced from intense rubbing of their bodies,” Your eyes glowed in sync with your drones, your wings unfolding and fluttering over the lights, creating a bright and reflective shine looming over Joker.

“But death seems to be a kind route… You killed j̸͈̆͌̂̋̑́͂͜͠â̸̠̋y҉̃̀̋̑j̸͈̆͌̂̋̑́͂͜͠â̸̠̋y҉̃̀̋̑, so I have a special fate for you,” That name was like a mixture of poison and fondness, an unknown yet familiar. You weren’t going to kill him. God knows you can’t take a life, you’re not a monster.

But you could make him into something useful. Something you can make better. After all, royalty needs a jester. You pushed his jaw down, opening his mouth as he kept on cackling, his permanent smile painted on his sickly pale face.

“You wish to be this party’s entertainment?” You stared down at him, pushing his mouth farther apart while your clawed finger lowered a single large drop of your honey, glowing so bright as everything seemed so fuzzy in Joker’s eyes.

Buzzzzz

“Then open wide,”

A/N: Heyyy!! Looks like you got ONE thing from your father, you don’t kill! Just… use them ig-

Anyways, that’s neither here nor there.

You finally got the Bats reacting to your videos! All sad and shameful really, but now they know!

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven @danart501 @esposadomd @trashlanternfish360

[chrissv4mp]

★ HEATWAVE

INTRODUCTION : PART 1 : PART 2 reading now...

warnings. fluff, angst, language, arguments, both are in the wrong, and crying.

synopsis. after a long year of struggle, your parents decide to move back to the place you spent most of your childhood years: the old farm that they never had the heart to get rid of. however, after leaving a decade ago, they hired some help who you were never aware of until your arrival.

words. 6.4k

letters. idk if i love this or hate it, but here u guys go 😽

SERIES MASTERLIST : NAVIGATION

the morning slips in slow, golden, and quiet. soft rays of sun creep across the old hardwood floors and up the pale walls of your old bedroom, warming the corners of posters you never took down when you had to leave. througy your open window, you can hear the low hum of bees and the distant chirp of something rustling through the fields.

it's warm inside despite the crack in the window, and it's only when you shuffle that you realize you're on top of billie.

you're both tangled in the cotton sheets that were starting to hold billie's scent even after only one night in your bed.

she's on her back, her side pressed against the wall, breathing slow and deep like the whole world could stop, and she wouldn't even notice. her arm's curled loosely around your shoulder, her cheek resting near the crown of your head.

one of your legs is draped over hers—somehow, in the middle of the night, you migrated entirely onto her body.

you don't move.

instead, you remember the events after you took her up here.

the way she whispered about everything and nothing the night before—childhood stories, horses she used to sneak sugar cubes to, a terrible scar she got from climbing the barn roof to watch the stars. she kept talking even after your eyes fluttered shut, voice soft, steady. just in case you were still listening.

a sleepy smile curls on the corners of your mouth.

and then—

"oh—oh my god," your mom's tired voice slices through the morning like dropped glass. you don't even turn your head at first. you just feel your entire body freeze.

"i—well, i didn't know you brought her over last night," your mom stutters, still standing in the doorway, staring.

your hand moves to billie's shoulder, shaking her roughly and hoping that she'll wake up before—

"she still asleep?" your dad's voice follows, heavy footsteps approaching.

"dad, wait, don't come in!" you call frantically.

too late.

he pokes his head in, and upon seeing the scene, bangs his fist against the door to wake billie up. it scares her awake immediately, her entire body jolting beneath you as you try to roll over and give her space, but the bed doesn't allow that.

stupid twin bed.

"sleepover's done, girls," he announces loudly, sighing tiredly.

billie practically levitates off the bed like the mattress was on fire, mouth dry, and heart rate picking up rapidly. she stutters, trying to find her shoes and hat as she stammers an explanation at the same time.

"we fell asleep—shit, i'm—we were just talking, i—"

your dad nods slowly, unimpressed, "uh-huh," he raises a brow, "should i be calling your parents and telling them you'll be staying for breakfast, miss eilish?"

a frustrated sigh passes by your lips, bringing a closed fist up to your eye and trying to rub the sleep away, "dad!" you groan, "can you not?"

he only puts his hand hands up like he's innocent, but the small smirk on his face stays.

your mom is still stunned, but not mad—just tired and confused as to why the farmhand was sleeping in your bed. more so, why a girl was sleeping in your bed.

billie ties her boots and throws on her hat in record time, muttering apologies as she scurries past your mom and dad like they might bite her if she stayed much longer.

you scoot off the bed slowly, rubbing your eyes and trying to find your footing as your dad walks closer, "really?" you huff.

he just shrugs, looking through your window and seeing billie practically bolt out of the house, "what? i just didn't feel like having company today."

you roll your eyes so hard you almost make yourself dizzy.

then your mom turns on her heel and walks away to her room, facepalming and muttering something about "not even wanting to know what happened last night."

your dad pats your back, guiding you through your doorway and down the stairs until he parts ways with you once you reach the kitchen. you sit down at the dining table, yawning tiredly as your dad flips the pancakes he was making just before scaring the shit out of billie.

he slides you a plate just as your mom comes sluggishly stomping into the kitchen, walking over to your dad and starting up some coffee for the three of you—which, normally, she doesn't do, but you definitely needed it.

you're barely halfway through the pancake before your dad is starting to talk again, turning around and leaning back against the counter, itching the back of his neck.

"you wanna be useful this morning, sweetheart?" you blink at him.

"...do i have a choice?" you mumble, voice muffled against the food in your mouth. when he shakes his head, you huff in annoyance.

he grins at your response, "well, i need you to go get billie."

your face drops, and so does your fork.

"you just scared her away, and now you decide you need her back?" you scoff, furrowing your brows at him and leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"i forgot we had chickens, until your mother reminded me last night and we swung by the barn to see if everything was fixed. great job on the stable door, by the way," he says, turning back around and flipping a few more pancakes before continuing, "and they need more food."

"i think i remember you having a car?" you murmur, taking another bite of the pancake.

"you're right. but then how would you kids ever patch things up from your little sleepover?" your face flushes in embarrassment, and you're immediately pushing the chair from out of the table and rushing up the stairs to your room.

and just like that, you're changing and brushing your teeth in a hurry before heading out of the door without a goodbye to your parents. as you're getting far from the house, you realize your dad didn't even give you an address or anything. just a casual—"you'll know when you see it" as you shut the door.

so, to pass the time of the long walk into town, you begin to rehearse what you'll say to billie.

"hey, sorry about this morning. my dad's a lot." too casual.

"i didn't mean for that to happen—i mean, i didn't not mean for it, but—" messy.

"you looked really comfortable. but you talk in your sleep, by the way." avoiding the whole point.

you're so deep in your chaotic spiral that you don't even realize when you walk into town—or when you're bumping into the very girl you were thinking about just a second ago—walking very slow the same way you were going, hat on her head, still in the same old clothes from this morning.

"well if isn't my little bed hog," billie teases immediately, smirking before you even get the chance to speak.

you blink, trying to collect your thoughts. "hey, what? i did not—"

"yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, darlin'," she interrupts, adjusting her tank top. "i was an inch away from falling off the mattress and breaking my tailbone."

all you do is stare at her, your cheeks heating up from the name. you should be used to this by now, but somehow, you're not.

"okay," you murmur, "but are we just not gonna talk about the way you scrambled out of the bed like it was gonna eat you alive?" you laugh, nudging her arm.

billie snorts. "i panicked, alright? your daddy looked like he was about to kill me."

you shrug, understanding quite a lot. "he just has that look. scared all my boyfriends away back in the city."

"oh, also," you pause, explaining before you forget, "he wanted us to pick up some feed for the chickens because their food is empty. that's the only reason i came."

billie raises her eyebrows, not believing that's the only reason you came.

you walk beside billie until she abruptly stops in the front of a small house, turning to you and putting a hand on her hip, running the other through her hair.

"you comin' in?" she asks.

"...i can stay out here, if you'd like," you murmur shyly, glancing over at the walkway.

billie shoots you a look that says 'really?' and then adds, "you'd last five minutes out here before knocking on the door like a stray dog. just come in."

you roll your eyes but follow her anyway.

the house is small, cozy, a little older than you expected, but it smells like lemon and cleaner and something fresh out of the oven. the moment you step inside, you're hit with air conditioning and a woman's voice calling from deeper in the house.

"bil, is that you?"

before you can fully step in, there's a flurry of footsteps heading yours and billies way. then, a woman with gray hair comes around the corner and practically lunges at billie.

you barely have time to blink before she's got both hands cupped around billie's face, eyes wide, looking her daughter up and down like she's checking for injuries.

"do you know how close i was to calling the sheriff? you didn't answer your phone once, billie. what even—where were you? did you sleep? did you eat? did you—?"

"mom," billie laughs, her voice strained and a little embarrassed as she tries to wriggle free. "i'm fine. still in one piece, see? stop stressin' so much."

maggie blinks rapidly, trying to calm herself down, hands still cupping billie's cheeks. "well, i'm not fine. you scared me half to death last night—i've never seen your father pace before last night."

a man, who you're guessing is billie's dad, hums from the living room, "i don't recall that."

maggie ignores him.

you're still in the doorway, awkward and quite but at the same time trying not to laugh. you try to pretend you don't even exist, which is working quite well considering maggie hasn't even looked your way.

"look," billie says gently, taking her mom's wrists and lowering them from her face. "i was just at the old farm. slept over."

maggie blinks, raising a brow. "the old farmhouse? why?"

and this is the part where billie shoots a quick glance over her shoulder, where you're frozen in place like a statue.

"uh," she says smoothly, "she just... needed help. movin' stuff. and it got too late to walk home. i was tired, as well."

her mother sniffs. "well, you should've called. you know how I get—"

"i know, i know," billie says, guiding her mom toward the kitchen. "'m'sorry, okay? won't happen again, ma."

she turns back to you, mouthing 'play along,' before jerking her head towards the stairs, "c'mon."

you nod quickly, silently thanking the universe that billie didn't tell her mom the real reason you were curled up on top of her in your bed all night. it was embarrassing. you sneak past maggie, who finally notices you mid-hug and just blinks in surprise like you showed up out of nowhere.

"oh—hello, sweetheart," she says, trying to collect herself, brushing hair from her face. "you poor thing, did you sleep there too?"

poor thing?

you smile awkwardly, nodding once and just deciding not to tell her you live there, "yeah, actually."

maggie just sighs, softening. "i'm just glad you both are safe. i don't care where you sleep as long as you're safe."

"maggie," patrick calls out calmly, "they're almost adults."

"right. almost," she huffs.

billie's already dragging you up the stairs before her mom can say another word, taking you down the hallway until she reaches a room on the very end of it.

when you walk in, her space is way bigger than you expected. warm wood floors, posters everywhere, guitars in the corner, a window cracked open with a soft breeze pushing through her curtains. it's effortlessly her.

"this is your bedroom?" you mutter, looking around.

"what? did you expect hay bales and a bucket for a toilet?" she smirks, walking to her dresser and rifling through a drawer.

you don't get the chance to reply, because as soon as you turn to look at her again, she's tugging her shirt off over her head.

you freeze.

"billie!"

she pauses, confused. "what?"

you squeal, slapping your hands over your eyes as you spin around on your heel quickly. "you could've warned me! oh my gosh."

billie just laughs. "you've literally seen me drenched in sweat and covered in mud."

"that's not the same!" you grumble, cheeks burning. "you had your shirt on both of those times, idiot."

she pulls a new tank top over her head, this one black and a little tighter than the last. "relax. it's nothin' you haven't seen in health class diagrams."

you groan, still refusing to look even when you don't hear the shuffling anymore. "you're insufferable."

"and you're a prude."

"am not!"

"mm-hm." she walks past you, fingers tugging on your belt loops as she goes. "you can look now, drama queen."

you peek over your shoulder, pushing billie away and glaring at her as she shoots you a smug grin.

your heart's beating a little too fast for your liking.

billie drags you almost an inch by your belt loops before you shove her away playfully, following her out of the room and back down the stairs.

"mama, we're headin' out again!" billie calls over her shoulder, swiftly snatching the keys from a ceramic plate on a table near the front door.

she lets you out first, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you as she swings the keys on her fingers. she unlocks a truck in the driveway, and you pause immediately.

"...are you kidding me?" you scoff, turning to billie and smacking her arm with the back of your hand as the headlights of the truck turn on, "you had a truck this whole time?"

billie's already grinning, ducking away from you as she laughs. "ow—first of all, rude. second of all... yeah?"

"billie! we walked in the heat for miles these past few days!"

she shrugs, completely unbothered. "figured you needed to toughen up a little. besides, domino needed the exercise."

"you just said yesterday he was gonna be sore. i hate you."

"no, you don't," she says with that insufferably smug grin as she rounds the truck and hops into the driver's seat.

you slam the passenger door shut dramatically. "i could've been sitting with the ac yesterday."

billie only chuckles, reversing out of the driveway with one hand on the wheel and the other resting lazily on the gearshift. you're still scowling as you buckle your seatbelt, but even you have to admit—her confidence behind the wheel is kinda attractive.

the little bell above the farm shop door jingles as the two of you step inside, the smell of grain, hay, and something... earthy hits like you a wall. you wrinkle your nose a little, but billie'a already making a beeline for the back, completely unbothered. like she lives in this place. which—okay, fair.

"you know," you say as you trail behind her, eyeing the stacked bags of feed. "you could've at least warned me that my entire week would be filled with this. instead of treating me like your emotionally unstable, city-raised intern."

"you are my emotionally unstable, city-raised intern," she fires back over her shoulder, grinning.

a scoff falls from your lips, "well, you're wrong. i wasn't city-raised," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest. "ugh, i hate it here."

"that's not what i heard yesterday," she teases, already squatting down and throwing a giant sack of chicken feed over her shoulder like it weighs nothing. "and i see the way you look at the animals, like they're your emotional support pets."

"okay, first of all," you start, pointing at her in shock. "that bag is definitely heavier than i am. you're not supposed to make that look easy."

billie smirks, flexing her shoulder slightly just to be obnoxious. "jus' say you're impressed."

"fuck no," you deadpan. "but if you throw out your back, i'm not helping you. i'll just sit on a hay bale and plan out your funeral."

she chuckles loudly. "please. i've carries heavier things than this."

"like what, your ego?"

the cowgirl lets out a sharp laugh and nearly drops the bag, "okay, i'll give that one to ya."

you flash her a smug grin, finally satisfied. she sets the bag down at the register like it's made of feathers, barely even breathing hard. showoff.

the cashier rings it up, and billie throws the bag over her shoulder again, heading to leave and holding the door open with her other hand. she winks at you when you pass by her, and you only roll your eyes in response.

you hate her. you hate her so much.

billie throws the bag into the truck bed before skipping over to the drivers side door and jumping in, shutting her door just as she starts the car and you hop into the passenger seat.

the drive to the barn is much shorter than the walk, and it only makes you hate her more for making your feet sore for the next week.

she pulls up along the side of the barn, tires crunching against the gravel. you hop out a second after billie, smoothing out your top and rounding the truck. she grabs the feed bag from the truck bed and starts walking to the open barn doors, you trailing not too far behind, still muttering about show-offs and secret trucks and lies.

you're about halfway into the barn when the soft clinks and brushing noises start to register. and then—

"yo," a voice calls out from somewhere deeper inside. "thought i heard the ol' girl pull in."

you peek around billie's shoulder just in time to see a taller guy standing next to one of the younger horses, holding a brush in one hand and a carrot in the other. his sleeves are rolled up, long but short ginger hair fluffed from the heat, and he's got a casual nice guy grin.

this must be finneas.

billie drops the bag near the front of the barn doors, deciding that she'll take care of it later, "hey, finn." she greets, walking over to pull him into a hug.

you follow behind her slowly, smiling up at the two of them. you can already feel how strong their sibling bond is.

when they pull back, finneas ruffles billie's hair and then turns to you, setting the brush down on the stool he was sitting on a few minutes before you two arrived.

"and you must be her shadow," he smiles, holding out a hand to you in a greeting.

you take his hand, shaking it, "y/n is the preferred name, though."

he hums, loosening his grip before pulling away entirely, "finneas. nice to meet you, y/n."

billie turns to you, motioning to her brother with a hand, "well, now that you've met him, is he all you expected and more?" she teases.

you grin, glancing at billie before directing your attention back to finneas, "well, i didn't expect him to be ginger."

finneas chuckles, turning back around and picking up his brush again to continue with his job. he holds up the half-eaten carrot to the colt, and he immediately takes a bite.

"understandable," billie murmurs. "but i'm not exactly a natural brunette, so..."

you fully turn your body to her this time, eyes widening and brows furrowing in confusion, "sorry, what?"

the cowgirl shrugs, brushing it off as she goes back over to grab the bag and carry it to the back of the barn, where the chickens resided in a coop out in the yard.

she was impossible.

yet you follow her because you have nothing better to do. so, you hold open the feeder as billie cuts open the bag with her pocket knife, turns it upside down with a quiet grunt, and begins to pour the seed into the feeder.

once she's done, you step back and watch as she clicks her tongue to get the chickens over. but they're already scrambling to the feeder, clucking and squawking. billie steps away, smiling down at the little ones like she loves them.

because she really, really does. and you've grown to know that over the short time you've been here. the way she cares so gently for the horses, how she immediately jumps to help the sheep if they ever get stuck in fences, and just the sheer kindness she has for everything and everyone around her.

but before you can say something, billie's moving again. she never seems to let herself catch a break around here.

she goes over to the hose, unraveling it from the reel and dragging it over to the messy pen of pigs that wasn't too far from the chicken coop.

you scurry to the reel, looking over at billie and waiting for her signal to turn the valve. when she gives you the thumbs up, you begin to turn it. but it's surprisingly hard. and you can hear billie's surprised chuckle even from a few feet away.

when you finally get the water on, you're sweating. you try to convince yourself it wasn't just due to the struggle, but also the unbearing heat of summer. still, the fact that billie watched you made it even more embarrassing.

"damn, i thought you climbed fences and threw chairs back in the city," billie inquired teasingly, glancing over her shoulder just as you walked up to her. "guess not. that upper body strength isn't the best."

you nudge her roughly, causing her to groan at the light pain. she changes the setting on the hose before fully turning the water on, aiming it at one pig and spraying it down on a medium water pressure.

her arm flexes when she moves the direction of the hose to spray another one, biting her lip and trying not to get the water directly in their eyes. gosh, why does she have to be so concentrated all the time?

it makes it harder to hate her.

your lips curl into a cheeky smirk when you come up with a teasing remark, knowing billie wouldn't see it coming.

"steady hands, huh? is that just with hoses or..." you trail off with a smirk, eyeing her arms and hands.

billie turns her head to you, furrowing her brows with a surprised and annoyed smile on her face. however, what you don't expect is when she turns to you completely and starts to spray you down.

she turns the water pressure up just a bit, making you squeal and jump back in shock, "billie, what the fuck!" you gasp.

"don't mess around when i have a hose in my hand, city girl." billie says, beginning to chase after you when you decide to sprint off in the yard.

you wipe your eyes, trying to shield yourself with your hands as you laugh in shock. billie doesn't let up, she just continues to spray your face and body in retaliation.

that's when you decide to finally charge at her, hands grabbing at the hose in an effort to grab it and spray her just like she did you. but her grip is strong, her hat falling off her head as you try to grab her.

then you lose your footing, slipping on the wet grass.

a loud gasp escapes your lips as you feel yourself going down quick—until it stops. you feel a pair of hands on your waist, holding you up so that you don't fall farther.

your hands clutch billie's shirt the second you open your eyes, your own tank top soaked. she holds you there for a moment, face so close to yours that you can feel her breath on your lips, your cheeks flushing.

the laughter from earlier dies down in the back of your throat.

she's just staring at you, eyes soft, face relaxed.

little drops of water drip down the ends of her hair from your playful fighting, the neck of her shirt partially wet. but all you can think about is the way she's clutching onto you so surely.

then she chuckles, "don't start things you can't finish, princess," billie winks at you teasingly before helping you back onto your feet, walking back over to the hose reel and wrapping it back up.

neither of you speak on it. instead, you just go back to annoying billie while simultaneously helping her with the chores you were assigned today—which weren't very many, now that you think about it.

in—what feels like—record time, you and billie are already walking back out to the front.

you wipe your dusty hands off on the back of your jeans, glancing over your shoulder at finneas, who's slowly emerging from one of the stables. your arms aren't as sore as the past few times, your legs barely ache, but there's straw in your socks somehow. again.

billie pats her jeans down and squints up at the burning sun, "looks good. we're done for today."

you blink, whipping your head in her direction. "...that's it?"

"yes ma'am."

you turn back around to the barn. no horses to brush, no food to fill, no gates to fix or sheep to sheer. it's... weird. after a whole week of nothing but labor, you almost don't know what to do with yourself.

finneas walks up before you can say anything else, brushinh his hands off on a towel. "you two hungry?"

"starving," you both say in unison, and billie smirks at the timing.

"right, cool. i'll drive, just lemme finish lockin' up." he holds out a hand, and billie tosses him the keys without hesitation.

he catches them without even looking—still turned toward the barn doors—and your jaw drops just a little.

"damn," you mumble.

as finneas slides the doors closed and slips the bolt into place, he calls out over his shoulder, "you takin' her to the rodeo later, by the way?"

you're still brushing off your hands when you hear his question, and just as you look back at billie, she perks up.

"what rodeo?" you ask, turning back to finneas with a look of confusion.

finneas walks over, swinging the keys. "oh, yeah. i forgot you're new," he chuckles. "there's a rodeo with this cool bonfire every year. always right at the beginning of summer. it's always a good time."

you glance back at billie, who's dead quiet and frozen in place, "...what?"

she clears her throat, trying to play it cool. "i—uh. i was gonna go with someone, actually."

finneas—god bless his oblivious mouth—grins. "oh, right. savannah rae."

"who?"

billie's cheeks flush, the tips of her ears a light pink.

"she's an old friend. though, i haven't seen her 'cause i've been busy with you all week," billie explains. "not that i mind, of course." she adds quickly.

"we were gonna go together before... y'know. 'fore you got here." she murmurs, voice trailing off. she'd learned that you were a bit... reactive, in the past week.

you nod slowly, trying to keep your face neutral even though something twists low in your stomach. "oh. cool."

you hate how obvious it sounds. you're not even sure why it bothers you. maybe it's the blush. maybe it's that you thought you were... special. just a little.

but billie notices. of course she notices. you perked up when finneas mentioned it, thinking billie might ask you. and now? your posture's just the slightest bit stiffer, like you're trying not to care.

finneas breaks in again, throwing an arm over billie's shoulder and unlocking the car. "you can always take both of 'em," he teases.

the cowgirl pushes him away, rolling her eyes. "it's not like that, dummy," you glance between the two siblings, then out toward the fields.

but she doesn't look at you when she says it.

you slide into the backseat and try to laugh it off, even as your arms cross on instinct. "didn't know you were that kinda person, cowgirl."

she slides into the passenger seat just as you say it, glancing back at you a moment too long, "neither did i."

it's times like these when you hate her. really hate her.

the sun is fully set as you sit on the porch swing of your parents house, one leg crossed over your other as you clasp your hands in your lap. billie said she'd pick you up at 7, despite your obvious attitude toward the whole thing.

so, here you were: wearing a short skirt and one of the tighter crop-tops you'd found in the back of your closet. this was your norm for a going-out outfit, especially if there was gonna be a bunch of people there—that, and the fact that you were probably gonna be attached to billie's hip the whole time.

you turn your head up when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up to your place. it parks in front of the house, and billie's already jumping out and walking up the front steps.

"you ready, y/n?" that's the first time she's used your actual name since the day you've met.

and your gut tells you the reason behind it is the girl staring at you through the drivers side window from the passenger seat. that must be savannah. and god, is she annoyingly attractive.

she already looks like she hates you, brows slightly furrowed and a pout clear on her lips. you try not to stare for too long, but it's too late because billie's already looking at you like she's lost.

"yeah, uh," you stammer, clearing your throat. "i'm ready."

billie kisses her teeth, nodding and turning on her heel to jog back down the porch and to the truck again. you pull open the backdoor, slinging yourself in, but you can feel savannah's eyes on you, sharp and critical.

the second you slide in, you catch her staring at you with some kind of annoyance. like you're a problem she's been handed without an option. she doesn't even say hi—just sends you a small smile.

"you look... nice," she mutters before turning back around to look at billie, her smile growing genuine.

you're about to snap something back—maybe something rude—but you manage to stop yourself just in time. hardly.

instead, you throw yourself against the back of the seat, crossing your arms and avoiding billie's eyes in the rear view mirror, staring out the window. you're not in the mood for small talk. or any talk at all.

the drive is mostly quiet, except for a few moments of forces conversation that you're not even pretending to be interested in. you can feel the tension building. billie keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out what's going on, but you won't give her the satisfaction of saying another word.

finally, the truck bumps over the gravel road as it pulls into the rodeo grounds. you can already hear the yells and shouts, the low murmur of the crowd, and the distance crackle of a bonfire. there's a part of you that wants to enjoy it, but it's buried under the fact that the only thing that matters right now is billie—how she's been acting weird since finneas brought this up, how she brought you and savannah, how everything feels off now.

billie leads the way, and you follow, your boots kicking up dust, too proud to admit how much you're looking forward to getting to the bonfire. but your eyes are locked on savannah, and every time she catches you looking, she raises an eyebrow, as if she's daring you to say something. you stay quiet. for now.

the bonfire flickers, lighting up the crowds excited faces. it's hot, and the sound of country music echoes around the place. you see people laughing, dancing, but the only thing that's really drawing your attention is billie and savannah talking, thr two of them whispering between themselves. it doesn't help that savannah keeps looking at you like you're a joke.

"you good?" billie finally asks as she steps forward, her tone unsure, like she's being cautious.

you snap softly, unable to control yourself. "yeah, i'm great," you bite, rolling your eyes. "just... amazing."

billie gives you a confused look, but you're too busy staring at the fire to meet her gaze. you just want the night to be over. to go back to the farm, back to normal. but you don't wanna admit it.

"y'wanna go see the rodeo?" billie offers, but she sounds like she's asking herself more than you.

"no, you and savannah go have fun," you mutter, stepping away from them both and moving toward the fire.

billie hesitates for a second, like she's trying to figure out if you're playing some kind of game with her. she looks over at savannah, who just shrugs like it's whatever. billie takes a breath and shakes hed head, walking off to join the crowd without another word. you're alone again, but this time, it feels different.

you hate it. you hate her.

the night drags on after that, but the air feels thick and heavy. you're getting more irritated by the minute. the heat, the noise, the people... it's all too much. the rodeo's dying down, but the bonfire outside it still roaring with energy. you hear footsteps before you see them. billie and savannah walking past you and going to sit at one of the benches near the fire. it's making you insane, the way savannah's kept billie's attention the whole night. and she doesn't even try to hide it—her little smirk every time she talks to billie, the way she keeps leaning in, whispering to her. you're done.

it's been like this since you got here. billie's barely spared you a glance since she went into the building, caught up in whatever she's got going with savannah. so when billie looks over her shoulder and motions you over to sit next to her, your patience runs dry. you throw a sarcastic comment savannah's way the moment you sit down, loud enough for billie to hear, not caring if it's cruel.

"yeah, i bet you and you're little lapdog have a lot to talk about," you scoff, too tired and angry to stop yourself. you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tighter. it's just—something about savannah being all over billie again rubs you the wrong way.

your comment is enough to set her off. she grabs your wrist, muttering to savannah about being right back before she drags you over toward the parking lot. her lips are pressed tight with frustration. "are you serious right now?" she growls, getting in your face. "what the fuck is your problem with her?"

a scoff falls from your lips as you bite back, words sharp. "my problem is that you invited me, knowing you already had a date, only gave your attention to her the entire night, and made me feel like i'm just in the way," you snap. "maybe i should've just stayed home, so you and your little girlfriend could've had some alone time."

billie eyes flash with surprise, her jaw tightening noticeably. "that's what this is about? me spending time with savannah? i haven't had a break from you since you came here, and now you're complaining about me not spending time with you?"

her voice is rising now, and you can see people turning, hearing the tension in the air. some phones are getting pulled out, whispers being passed. but billie's beyond caring, her voice growing rougher.

"maybe that's what's been driving me insane—your constant fuckin' complaining. you hate farm, you hate the weather, you hate the people... you've barely even tried to get along with anyone, and now you're taking it out on her?"

you sputter, your face flushed with heat. "you seriously think i'm complaining just to complain?" you growl, voice shaky. "it's not my fault you decided to invite me when you knew you were bringing that bitch. why even ask me to come..."

"don't call her that," she says quickly, eyes flashing dangerously. it's clear that she's done with you, shoulders tense and hands stiff in fists. her tone is raw, and it's a side of her you've never seen before. but it doesn't shock you. you've been waiting for this, honestly—waiting for her to finally get sick of you like your parents did.

you try to spit something back at her, but thr words catch in your throat. it's like you can't even breathe through the sting of billie finally lashing out on you. you stare at her, and suddenly she can't control herself. "maybe this would've been better if you didn't come to the farm at all."

the air feels thicker now. your chest tightens, and for a moment, you feel like you might throw up. billie doesn't soften, doesn't back down. she just... watches you, eyes hard, daring you argue.

you're too stunned to respond. the words are there, but they choke in your throat. her words echo in your mind, a painful reminder that, yeah, she might've just been putting up with you this whole time.

the crowd around you has gone completely silent now, watching the scene unfold, phones lowering, whispers picking up again. but it doesn't matter. nothing matters except the way billie looks at you, like she's done with this, done with you.

for the first time tonight, your voice catches, and the anger fades. it turns into something worse, something bitter. you stare at her, the hurt creeping in. "fuck you."

your words are just above a whisper, heavy with the weight of it all. you turn on your heel and storm off, not caring about the people watching, not caring about anything except the pit in your stomach that you haven't felt since before you got back to your hometown.

billie doesn't chase after you. doesn't call your name. she just watches as you walk away, and for a moment, it feels like she's glad you're leaving. that she's done with this.

the crowd doesn't stop staring, but you don't care. you walk fast, faster than you should, not knowing where you're going, but needing to get away before someone notices the tears in your eyes. you just need to leave.

somewhere—anywhere—where you don't need to feel like this anymore.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @hkkuugu @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaeilishh @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @astr-0-wrld @lovesturni0l0s @cvrledpages @umadirectioner @lanabrock

[megapteraurelia]

we need more Kenma 🫶🫶🫶 latest one was sooooo cute

your wish is my command !!!! hope you like it, love!!

"i'm gonna get some snacks. what do you guys want?"

"nothing." — "just go already."

kenma shifted out of the way when kuroo walked past him, the glint in his eyes already giving away that he was not going to let you speak like that. except you knew your brother too well. his footsteps seemed normal until he suddenly bee-lined towards you, the smug little pause, the speed with which his hand shot out to flick your forehead, but your book was already there like a shield, slapping him away.

"predictable."

"rude," he scoffed, heading to the kitchen, "you used to be cuter, you know?"

"don't care."

kenma's gaze flicked from his screen just long enough to watch kuroo disappear around the corner; the moment his footsteps faded down the hall, the quiet in the room shifted. you had waited for this, and kenma knew it. he didn't look at you, but his shoulders tensed slightly, like he knew what was coming, like he knew exactly how you were going to pounce.

and true to your word—

he blinked, slow, "wha—?"

"no talking," you whispered, a wicked grin on your mouth before pressing a kiss on his cheek. then his jaw. his nose. a feather light one on the corner of his mouth. then again, slower, more sensually, more intimately, until the console slipped from his fingers and his hand instinctively reached out to rest on your knee, caressing your legs.

"you're gonna get me killed," he mumbled against your mouth, breath hitching as your hands sneaked underneath his hoodie to pull him closer.

"yet," a kiss, "you're," another, "still here."

he groaned softly into your mouth but didn't protest, didn't deny your words, the discarded gaming console digging into your thigh when his nimble fingers took a hold of—

"let's doooo something, please. work's killing me, i need entertainment," kuroo's voice sounded out from the hall, closer than before.

you instantly pulled back, sliding to your own spot on the couch, grabbing the book again in a swift move as if you hadn't been almost sitting on kenma's lap. speaking of — kenma sat frozen with his hands slowly sinking, flushed, wide-eyed, lips swollen, trying not to look like he had just committed treason, his eyes flicking to kuroo strolling in with a bowl of popcorn, and promptly coming to a halt.

his eyes narrowed suspiciously at kenma, head tilting, "dude, you look like you just ran a marathon. you okay?"

kenma didn't look at your brother, and you didn't look at kenma. your boyfriend cleared his throat, soft, hesitant, "just a hard boss fight."

"ooooo…kay, weirdo," kuroo shrugged and flopped down next to you, hand already out to slap the book off your hands. once again, you evaded him, whirling around to scold your brother for always trying to annoy you, heart racing with the adrenaline of almost having been caught, fingers sweaty, skin so very aware of kenma's slow gaze tracking you.

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit ;

[leafy-heart]

What Each the Thunderbolts member Listens to

Yelena:

Lots of ABBA songs, especially "Money, Money, Money" and "Thank You for the Music"

Not for any particular reasons, just to vibe to it while making mac'n'cheese

Ain't it Fun by Paramore

Girl with One Eye by Florence + The Machine

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

All the Small Things by Blink-182

She would have listened to emo music if she grew up in Ohio, and not Red Room. It's a generational DNA thing, you can take a girl out of emo but never the emo out of the girl.

Diva by Beyonce

Oops!... I did it again by Britney Spears

Government Hooker by Lady Gaga

Breakin Dishes by Rihanna

This is her training/mission hype songs. She tried Taylor Swift because Kate Bishop recommended, but it lacked some badassness. She is fond of the "Reputation" album though.

Bob:

Lose Yourself by Eminem

No Money by Galantis

Fantasy by Mariah Carey

American Idiot by Green Day

Bad by Micheal Jackson

Don't Try Sucide by Queen

you should see me in a crown by Billie Eillish

He likes music, but not picky about it. He probably Shazams music and puts it in his playlist without a second thought. He's also taken random recommendation from people he met when he was high.

Some insane D&B that no one can listen to if they are fully sane

Like Him by Tyler the Creator

Bucky:

Lots of Queen, "Save Me", "I Want to Break Free" and "Too Much Love Will Kill You" as notable repeats

Lots of The Beatles too. His favourite is "Twist and Shout"

First Steve introduced it to him as a part of what he has missed. Shuri used to put it on in the lab because "old white man music", and Sam used to put it on the car because "old white man music"

Shake It Off by Taylor Swift

This is the only song he knows from Taylor Swift. But it has made its way to his playlist because it came up one too many times in his attempt to catch up to pop culture.

September by Earth Wind & Fire

Staying Alive by Bee Gees

He actually liked dancing back in the days. Can you blame him?

Any records of 40s music he can find.

He refuses to listen to the music from his era digitally. Claims "it sounds too different"

John Walker:

Piano Man by Billy Joel

Unironically shouts to "Bill, I believe this is killing me" part

Another One Bites to Dust by Queen

Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet

Highway to Hell by AC/DC

American Idiot by Green Day

He only started listening to the last one after he killed that guy.

Von Dutch by Charlie XCX

Claims it's his "comfort music" (he has the whole album downloaded)

Ava:

Lofi Jazz

This is my headcanon, but I think because of her condition intense loud music makes sick and irritated.

Classical music, especially dramatic ones by Tchaikovsky

village song by Paris Paloma

Through the Eye of a Child by AURORA

Velvet Ring by Big Thief

Flowy, dramatic music with a touch of female rage is her style

Part of Your World

How Far I Will Go

Colours of the Wind

She also like Disney songs because it makes her feel like she's reclaiming her childhood.

Alexei:

Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl by Chappell Roan

Good 4 U by Olivia Rodrigo

Apple by Charlie XCX

Does not know what cringey means. He hears it, he likes it, he listens. He also knows the chants and the dances if there is any.

ETA by NewJeans

ANTIFRAGILE by Le Ssearfim

"These girls are extremely coordinated, Lena! Like you" Makes disturbing comparisons of K-pop groups and the Red Room.

POWER by Kanye West

Thought I was Dead by Tyler the Creator

Not Like Us by Tyler the Creator

Sings the part he's not supposed to sing. Bob had to tell him every single time. John and Bucky visibly gets uncomfortable.

Too many Bruno Mars

[factual-fantasy]

29 Asks! Thank you! :)) ✏️

My dearest compadre I am left handed

@ardent-38

WOAH hold your horses there friend! Octo and Seafoam aren't a couple- they're more akin to brothers than anything. So there will be no kissing in any scenario I conjure up for them <XDD

But other than that-- WAHGGGG THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭😭🥰🥰 YOUR MESSAGE MEANT SO MUCH TO MEEEE!!! 😭😭🥰💞💞 --and honestly have encouraged me to reconsider drawing that idea!! :00 So thank you for that too! :DDDD

A force shutdown isn't the word I'd use to describe cybertronian fainting.. "force" sounds more like someone on the outside doing something to Ratchet to make him shut down when he is otherwise healthy/ok. Rather than something going wrong internally.

Like if he was going under for surgery, maybe when he goes under it could be called "force shutdown" as well as "inducing stasis".

Now a "system failure" or "system crash" might be more appropriate for fainting or suddenly collapsing. When Ratchet injected the Synth-en maybe his systems were overwhelmed by the foreign substance and he suffered a complete system crash and collapsed.💔

Something tells me that wouldn't work somehow, but I don't have all the technical knowhow to really explain why that would be a bad idea <XD I'm sure Ratchet could explain why that would be bad.

Hmmm, good question...

The only thing that comes to mind is for Raf I headcanon that he is fluent in sign language and that's how he communicates with/understands Bee. (My version of Bee communicates with sign language, not random beeps and boops that Raf somehow magically understands)

@rainbowwatermelon7

A drawing of mine doesn't feel complete or "safe to post" unless its been watermarked. But it could be different for you and that's ok :0

I mostly draw the scribbly head when I'm feeling well, and the drippy head when I am unwell in someway. I have been dealing with some health problems for well over a year now so drawing myself drippy became my new norm. <XD But its starting to get old so I might return to the scribble head just for the fun of it tbh-

I just like to draw it a bright and fun red instead of a dull and realistic dark red :00

Probably mentally break down and die somehow. 🫠 I couldn't handle living in a world where our planet and everyone on it could be destroyed by Megatron at any moment. Let alone being on the front lines along side the Autobots.

I do have other social medias, but they are all private/just for viewing other peoples art. This is the only one I post artwork to :00

Bibi you mean? I guess I was inspired by cats <XD But I cant remember anything specific that inspired me other than that.

@zecromgen5

Nothing specific I can share online, 😅 but yeah things have been alright!

I only know of YouTube <:( That's where I watched it back then.

@candyglumboy

Aww! The boys!! :DD

(Referencing this post)

Same ✋😔

@milk-powrit

My favorite of the beasts is Mystic Flour, for personality, powers and design. The others are alright I suppose <XD

I would probably be poisoned and die within the day 💀

If you mean if I was a transformer tho, I'd probably become really emotionally unstable like Ratchet was and just sob uncontrollably until I burned through it all 😅

I've seen it floating around Tumblr, but I never really looked into it <:0

He's recruiting more Autobots it seems XDDD

They might not want to fish, but they'd like to watch the koi swim around! :)

AAAA Thank you so much!!! :DDD

@florafandoms

Ough... so old.. 💔💔

Also thank you so much!! :DD

@misscherrypie (Pics from this post)

XDD I was hoping people would notice that. I think a hug from Bibi would fix me 🥺🥺

Pick up a pencil and my friend you have the power to bring a flood 🌊

@briandraws

My spirit animal ngl

@wolfie-777

Hey that cat is pretty cute! We should make a beloved internet meme about it! :D

@kaiserdarken

I have no idea <:0 Since MatPat took a step back from his channels I haven't been keeping up with any new FNAF lore 😔

@beryl-shade

I would obliterate the fleas with my Mary sue mind powers. No fleas shall cause my babies discomfort ☝️☝️

I have now. <XD How bizarre-

[the-ellia-west]

Mangrove and Rose

Mangrove trying to learn to be a good person

-

Rose: "What do you want, kiddo? Here for a fight?"

Mangrove: *drops to his knees* "Teach me. You know magic, better than anyone. I need your help. Please. Teach me."

Rose: *surprised*

Mangrove: "..."

Rose: "What?"

Mangrove: *flushed because he's embarrassed at being humbled* "DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN! HELP me, I need your help! I can't use my powers, I need help! And nobody else can teach me, they don't have the skills, or the power like you do."

Rose: "Huh. Let me think about it."

Mangrove: "WHAT?!?!"

Rose: "First of all, if I'm going to train you, you're going to respect me. And you're going to listen to me. Understood?"

Mangrove: *he grits his teeth* "I- Yes ma'am..."

Rose: "Come on, get back up! You're a god, right? You can do this! GET UP."

Mangrove: *growling as he scrapes himself off the ground*

Rose: "Ha! I knew you had it in you!"

Mangrove: *trying to decide whether to be pissed that she slammed him into the ground and is ordering him around, or happy that she recognized that he was a god and complimented his capabilities*

Mangrove: *just looks down*

Rose: "Let's go again."

Mangrove: "YOU FUCKING W-"

Rose: *death glare*

Mangrove: "Let me kill him!" *snarling*

Rose: "No."

Mangrove: *silent obedient fuming*

@an-indecisive-nerd @sunflowerrosy @urnumber1star @homelessnerd @vesanal @darkandstormydolls @supercimi @corinneglass @sm-writes-chaos @thebookishkiwi @blargh-500 @lunaeuphternal @write-with-will @yolbert @thewritingautisticat @carb0n-m0n0xide @theweirdbox123 @inspirationallybored @daringcrafter @elronthemage @storiesbyemma @bees-with-a-camera @i-do-anything-but-write

[cybertr0nian]

" Oow..." it hurt when Darkfang let go but damn it hurt more to have him bite onto him...lesson learned don't drop anything while Darkfang is sleeping, or you know don't put him in the cog hole? Nah.

Once Darkfang was out of his cog hole his servo moved to raise the small snake to his optics listening to what he had to say but was confused "...you can?" but he he took care of himself, well the best he could down this hole. It's not like they generously throw items down for him aside from energon to keep him alive.

He'll just use his rag to clean up again, even if there was no grease inside that he knew of " Sorry I scared you." Bee apologized as his other servo moved to rub Darkfangs helm...he can't help it he's adorable.

Trapped in sleepy hazed processors, everything around him felt slower. Vocals slurred, barely focusing, barely hearing. The digit against his helm brought out a rumbling growl and a tightening of jaws. Why was he trying to take his prey away from him??

The gentle rubs refused to stop, a good choice, as each stroke brought Darkfang closer to the present. Optics focused, with a tired huff of an ex-vent. Darkness with a glimmer of light to his left. Safe? His prey, not a small cybermouse, but a full grown cogless bot.

The bite loosened gradually, with a pinching tug of fangs off Bee's inner workings. Right, cog hole, recharging, tiny. He rumbled out a mutter as he slithered onto Bee's digits and up. His movements slow and sluggish as he came out off the small space. "You should clean it in there proper, I can still taste the grease on my glossa." He lied with a grumble.

Awakened kliks ago and already a menace.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I am absolutely begging people to stop treating nazism as their big, bad blorbo caricature they can just invoke when they're mildly irritated about people who (they think) have Bad Opinions.

Nazism is not just "any time a Bad Guy does Bad Things." Nazism is not your final jojo stand you can invoke to win discussions or debates. It is a real life ideology that is intrinsically linked to the radical antisemitism it espouses and ignoring that is fundamentally harmful to the point of being radically antisemetic.

Since this is on-topic, I've been reading People Love Dead Jews (I am on chapter two), and I think downplaying nazism is absolutely part of de-emphasizing and reprioritizing antisemitism to make it about everything else but the antisemitism. When nazism is everything, then it can't be fundamentally antisemetic. You won't have to acknowledge that jews are the primary target of nazis and nazism if nazis are everything else. It's not a coincidence, especially seeing how many jews people call nazis. This is part of the dead jew that people love - if your eye is turned away from the fact that jews both exist still and are affected by violence and oppression, you get to say, "the jew is dead!".

Regardless, you will never live in a world without us**

עם ישראל חי

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

I think a demon possessed me to make this

[i-lavabean]

There will be time to figure out what happened later after you finally rest

[transmasc-rose]

I think bad things should happen between Dr. Caelius and Lucy 👍

[celestiachan]

how do i express to my search engine that i would like a lip balm WITH mineral oil actually

[sheepcreature]

I should graduate in queer-ing every character I get on my hooves.

[bardkin]

been doing some internal questioning that boils down to “is it the auADHD or i am plural in some way???”

and i’m. not sure if i want to know the answer. at least not yet.