#lest my mom yell at me for 'lying'

[meateater-rabbit]

"you've never had a migraine, if you'd ever had one you'd KNOW" funny i had a migraine two days ago so bad i couldn't function eat or sleep because i was holding in vomit and trying not to cry

[specialagentsergio]

wish i were

summary: Emily’s back where she belongs, but she’s learning that you can’t come back from the dead the same as you were before. Spencer’s reeling from betrayal and broken trust. Then there’s you—their safe port in the storm. But you’re not okay either, and you have a choice to make.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, bittersweet ending

a/n: it’s finally here. thank you all for your patience. i wasn’t planning on posting angst and unrequited love on valentine’s day, but i don’t want to wait another day to post this; i’m kinda sick of looking at it tbh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. sorry it’s so long. apparently i have a lot to say.

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist || masterlist

Ten weeks ago.

“Absolutely not,” Emily croaks out. Her voice is rough and broken from the breathing tube, and it hurts her throat to speak, but she ignores it. “No. I won’t do it.”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She’s only been awake for a few hours and she’s already fed up with the bullshit the world is throwing at her. Right now, it’s in the form of her boss asking her to fake her own death. “You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable solution.”

Hotch is unreadable, his unit chief face firmly in place. “It’s for your own safety.”

Emily scoffs, then immediately winces at the pain that shoots through her midsection. But she continues. “So put me in a safe house or something. I’m not making my friends bury me.”

“It’s for their safety as well,” he replies. “Doyle’s still out there. He’s targeted them before. You know he’ll do it again to get to you if he finds out you’re alive.”

“Then let them in on this,” she argues. “They can keep a secret.”

His expression slips—just a little bit, but she sees it. It’s hesitance.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks, a feeling of dread settling over her. “I want to see her. I’m not making a decision like this without her.”

Hotch folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not your decision to make, Emily,” he says quietly. “It’s already done.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She looks him up and down, searching desperately for any sign that he’s lying, that this is all just some cruel joke, that any second now you’ll be walking through the door, a smile on your face—

There are none.

Her lungs burn and she’s forced to take in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” she whispers. “You... son of a bitch. How dare you? How dare you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch as her voice increases in volume, which only serves to make her angrier.

“How fucking dare you! You let me see (Y/N) right now, you bastard!”

The door opens—her heart leaps—

It’s JJ, who, if Hotch is to be believed, is the only other one to know about this. JJ hurries to her side and reaches out, but Emily yanks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarls. “You—” Her eyes land on the water pitcher on the table in front of her and she lunges forward, the searing pain it causes barely registering. She seizes it and throws it with all the force she can muster.

Hotch doesn’t move out of the way, letting it hit his chest and soak the front of his clothing. Its accompanying cup follows, then the TV remote. It’s not until she grabs the vase of flowers that he ducks out of the way. The glass shatters on the floor. All the while, she’s screaming obscenities at him.

JJ tries in vain to calm her down, holding up her hands placatingly. “Emily, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” she yells. “You have the audacity to come in here and speak to me when you know I’m alive and my girlfriend doesn’t!”

“Emily!” Her voice is stern. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Don’t use your fucking mom voice on me, Jennifer, I’m not a fucking child—”

“What’s going on in here?” A pair of nurses enter the room, no doubt drawn by the commotion.

“She’s bleeding,” JJ answers immediately. “I think she might have aggravated something when she sat up.”

“She’s not supposed to be sitting up at all. What did you two do?” one of the nurses scolds.

“She just got some bad news—”

“Well, isn’t that a nice way to put it!” The nurses are trying to coax her into laying back down, but Emily resists it. “A really great way to describe the two of you trying to force me into letting my family and girlfriend think I’m dead!”

“I think some of the stitches tore,” the second nurse says.

“Go get the doctor,” the first one instructs an orderly standing in the doorway.

Movement catches Emily’s eye and she looks towards it to see Hotch taking a step backwards.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she screams. “I’m not done with you, you motherf—”

“Agent, please, you need to lie back.”

“And you two need to leave,” the older of the nurses says.

Then there’s a third person at her side. Judging by the white coat, it’s the doctor. “What’s the problem?” he asks them.

“She’s agitated and we think some stitches might have burst.”

“Damn right I’m agitated!” Emily cries. “They’re trying to—I—” She looks past the doctor to find that JJ and Hotch are gone.

“Emily, we’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he tells her.

Her vision goes blurry and she can’t figure out why until she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks. She lets the nurses push her back now and her head thumps against the pillow. “Please—” she chokes on a sob. “Please, I want to see my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” the doctor asks kindly.

“(Y/N). We’ve been together for almost a year. I need…” Her limbs are starting to feel heavy. “I need to call her, or—or something. She thinks… she thinks….”

“Shh, you’re okay,” one of the nurses soothes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Emily blinks slowly and shakes her head. “But she won’t be. She…”

The world fades to black.

---

There are tear stains on your pillowcase.

That’s the first thing Emily notices when she walks into your bedroom. She recognizes them so quickly because similar ones were on her pillows in Paris.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to run the sheets through the wash,” you say when you notice her looking.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She sets her bag on the bedside table, careful to jostle Sergio as little as possible. He’s in her arms, pressed against her chest and purring loudly. He definitely remembers her—she’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t.

Emily is absolutely exhausted. It has been a very long day. Doyle is dead, Declan is safe, and now all she wants to do is take a nice, hot shower and curl up in bed with you. But you haven’t been able to keep eye contact with her for more than a few moments at a time.

She expected something like this to happen. She knew once the relief of seeing her alive wore off, there was going to be a heap of more, uglier emotions surfacing.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

You glance up at her just briefly, busying yourself with stripping off the pillowcases and replacing them with a clean set. “I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you sigh. “I just… I don’t.”

She strokes Sergio’s back a couple of times to calm herself before replying. “You can say anything. You’ve been through so much, and I… I’m not going to hold what you’re feeling against you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

It confirms her suspicions. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to be mad at me,” she says. “Hell, you could even yell at me if you wanted to and I’d be okay with it.”

You snort. “I don’t want to yell at you. But, um, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Okay. Well…” You shuffle from one foot to the other. “I’m… not really sure how to ask this, but, how… how did this happen?”

Your voice is hesitant. You’re holding back, but Emily can read between the lines. “You mean, how could I let you think I was dead?” she corrects softly.

You breathe in sharply and wrap your arms around yourself. Your eyes are wet when you look up at her and nod.

Emily tries not to let her next words come out too fast, lest it seem like she’s dismissing your feelings or making excuses. “I didn’t get a choice.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “When I came to after surgery, the funeral had already been held.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at her for a few seconds, then blink several times. Your eyes move around, focused on nothing in particular as you try to process what she’s just told you. Eventually, they settle on the bedroom door behind her. “I’m gonna punch his face,” you whisper.

Emily can’t stop the genuine laugh that bubbles out of her. “Yeah, Hotch heard similar things from me.”

“Oh my god, Em,” you breathe out, and her heart skips a beat at the nickname. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she admits. “But at least I knew you were alive and that I’d see you again someday. It can’t come close to what you went through.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t the suffering Olympics. It was harder for you in some ways than it was for me, I’m sure. Like, if I was waking up after being stabbed, I’d want my girlfriend there holding my hand.”

Emily’s eyes prick with tears as she listens to you, remembering how it felt to be at the hospital without you there to hold her hand through all the scary bits. But you? You had buried her, and now you’re here considering how Emily had felt throughout all this. She’s not sure if you’re actively trying to make her fall even more in love with you, but if you are, you’re succeeding.

“I can’t promise to never be mad at you about this,” you continue, “but I’ll take being mad at you for actually being alive rather than being mad at you for dying.”

“That’s… really mature of you,” she observes.

“I started seeing a therapist a few days after the funeral,” you say with a shrug. “Can you put Sergio down and help me change the bed sheets?”

She nods and places him gently on the floor. She’s about to ask why you’re wanting to change them right now, when you’re clearly just as exhausted as she is, when she finds a tie wedged between the top and fitted sheets at the foot of the bed. She frowns as she lifts it up—it’s not one she recognizes as yours or hers, but she does think she’s seen it before.

“Oh, so that’s where that went,” you say.

“I don’t remember you having a tie like this. Is it new?”

“It’s Spencer’s,” you clarify.

“Oh. What… what’s it doing in your bed?” she asks hesitantly.

“He would stay over sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and he’s too long—“ you spread your hands apart “—for either of the couches.”

“I see.” Emily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric and crosses the room to put it on top of the dresser, trying to tamp down the sting of jealousy. The other side of your bed is supposed to be hers.

“Nothing happened,” you say and she realizes she’s frowning.

“I know,” she replies, and she does—she just wishes it had been her in the bed with you. But you’ve at least given her a good lead-in for her surprise. “Anyways, you wouldn’t have even had the time with the amount of online Scrabble you were playing.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “How do you know about that?”

The corner of her mouth turns up. “I was there for every game, sergio2010.”

It takes you a moment to put it together. “You’re cheetobreath?” you ask. “I thought that was JJ.”

“It was her idea,” Emily says. “And that’s what you were supposed to think.”

Your reaction delights her—you start laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I had to stick it to Hotch somehow,” she defends, barely holding back her own laughter.

You shake your head fondly as you finish tucking in the fresh sheets. Emily helps you spread the comforter back over the bed and return the pillows to their spots. She isn’t sure what to do after that, though, and nervously clasps her hands in front of her. You’re silent for a few seconds, watching her from across the bed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say eventually.

“Um, okay,” she replies. “But you know, I could go stay at a hotel instead if you’d prefer.”

You shake your head. “You’re gonna join me.”

“Ah.” Emily swallows, part nervous, part thrilled. “That’s… I mean, yeah. Okay.”

You hold out your hand in invitation; she circles the bed and takes it.

After, when you’re both clean and settled into bed, she pulls you as close to her as she can. “This is so nice,” you sigh into her skin. “You’re so soft, Em.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um, thank you?”

“Spencer’s bony,” you explain.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, I know. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet a few years ago and it was painful.”

You giggle. “Did you know he talks in his sleep?”

“Morgan’s mentioned it. You learn anything else when you were snuggled up with him?” she teases, running her fingers through your damp hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest. “We didn’t snuggle. I’d just kind of… press my forehead on his arm and one leg against his.” Your voice lowers as you continue, “I just really missed being close to someone.”

“I did, too,” she whispers back. “I wish it had been me, but I’m glad you had him.”

You nod against her in agreement. “I love you, Emily,” you say, briefly tightening your grip on her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “So much.”

You drift off to sleep quickly, and she’s not far behind.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

---

Spencer’s barely heard from you since the hearing last week.

He’d gotten plenty of texts from Jennifer (all of which he ignored), but only a few from you. That’s probably normal for most adult friends, but not for you two, especially so when the fact that you were the only two people not to apply for reinstatement to the BAU is taken into consideration. He thought that he’d be able to seriously talk about it with you, to share his feelings and maybe work it out together. But all he had gotten was a brief message:

Emily was reinstated, so I’m going back, too.

It left him frustrated, but when it came down to it, he understood—he was the same. Since you were going back, so was he.

On Monday morning, everyone’s first day back together, he gets off the elevator and is immediately confronted with the last person he wants to see.

“Hey, where have you been? I wanted to do brunch this weekend,” Jennifer says.

Spencer barely resists rolling his eyes, instead keeping them fixed on the file he’s holding. “I had to deal with some stuff with my mom.” It’s not a lie—he did have to check in with his mom. It just didn’t take as long as he’s implying. “Have you seen Garcia?”

“Uh, she’s with Rossi,” Jennifer answers, and she sounds startled by his behavior, but he doesn’t care. You’re at your desk, and as he passes by, he takes your arm.

“Wha—Spencer?” You’re taken aback, but you let him pull you along and into a file room.

“What?” you repeat when he turns to you after closing the door.

He tucks the file into his bag, the folds his arms over his chest. “I barely heard from you last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, yeah, I’ve been busy,” you say. “Emily’s moving in with me so we’ve been taking her things out of storage and to my apartment to unpack.”

Spencer glances away, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest. Just two weeks ago, he was in your bed and he’s quickly been replaced. And sure, he knows you don’t feel that way about him, but it was easy to pretend you did when you were asleep right next to him. “Not busy enough to make a decision about work,” he points out.

“So?”

“You’re the only other one who didn’t apply for reinstatement to the unit,” he replies. “You’d think that would be something for us to talk about.”

“You never said you wanted to,” you say, giving him a little shrug.

He doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Does Spencer know he’s being a bit unfair? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly. No one bothered to seriously check in with him last week. He wasn’t expecting everyone to, but he was expecting it from you. He’s only been at work for five minutes, but his emotions are already running high, and he doesn’t care to reign them in. “I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You should’ve. I can’t read your mind.” Now you’re getting defensive. “And what does it matter, anyways? You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to run my decisions past you.”

“I know that,” he snaps. He really could have done without hearing you say that. “I’m just there to warm up your bed when you’re lonely is all, huh?”

You’re shocked for only a moment before pivoting to anger. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could’ve said no. And I certainly don’t owe you anything from it.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

You heave an angry sigh. “Look, I know you’re mad about the whole thing, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I wanted to spend the past week catching up with my girlfriend after thinking she was dead for ten weeks. If you wanted to talk, you should’ve said so. Stop being such an ass.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. You’re right, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. He just looks down at the floor, avoiding your glare.

When it becomes clear to you that he has no intention of responding, you mutter, “whatever” under your breath and duck behind him, walking out of the door and leaving him alone again.

---

The case has been miserable.

In rural Oklahoma, their unsub is burning his victims with acid. Not the worst they’ve seen, but not pleasant, either—this job never is.

You’re still mad at him, which is bad enough, but he’s also had to watch you be far more… touchy with Emily than you ever were before. It’s not super apparent—you still keep it professional at the local P.D. and when you’re out on work assignments, but you’re going out of your way to find any excuse to touch her that you can outside of that.

Then there’s the motel they’re staying at and its thin walls. He heard a few things last night from your room next door. It was quickly followed by shushes, but he heard enough to infer what was going on. So he’d dug his noise-canceling headphones out of his bag. It had been a good solution at the time, but then he’d fallen asleep with them on. As a result, he’d slept with his neck at an odd angle. It’s midday now and it’s still aching.

To top it all off, there’s Jennifer. He’s been trying to keep his distance from her, and had thought the snide remarks he hadn’t been able to hold back might encourage her to stay away. But she keeps pressing the issue, and when she tells him she thinks he’s mad about micro-expressions, he can’t hold it back anymore.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

She protests, so he brings up Dilaudid. He knows it’s a low blow, and that she still feels guilty about them splitting up all those years ago, leading to his abduction and subsequent problem, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to hurt like he is.

The team is staring and Emily says his name, but he just tells Jennifer that it’s too late to be sorry and leaves without another word.

Outside, he sits on the curb in front of one of the SUVs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He’s not alone for long, though. Just a few minutes later, he hears footsteps coming from behind him. The sound that involuntarily comes out of his throat can only be described as a growl.

“God, Jennifer, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I want you to leave me the fuck alone!” he nearly yells.

But it’s not Jennifer that answers. “It’s me,” you say softly.

Spencer sighs. He drops his hands from his face but doesn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“Can I sit?”

He’s not sure he wants to be around anyone, but it’s hard for him to say no to you. “Sure,” he says dully.

You join him on the curb, but keep a few feet of space between you. You don’t say anything, though, just sit quietly, letting him make the first move.

“How are you okay?” he asks eventually.

“What?” You sound incredulous. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. I’m so mad at Hotch that I can barely breathe when I’m in the same room as him.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, recalling when everyone’s been in the same room during this case. He realizes that since he’s been preoccupied with you touching Emily and trying to avoid Jennifer, he’s missed how you tense up whenever you see Hotch, and that you keep him out of your eyesight whenever possible.

“But you’re fine with Emily,” he observes. That does honestly confuse him, because he’s mad at Emily as well. And if it had been you in her place? He’s not sure he’d ever be able to forgive you, even without you knowing the way he feels about you.

“For the most part,” you say. “I still feel a little mad at her sometimes, but it helps me to remember that it wasn’t her fault.”

He finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being alive in Paris and not telling you isn’t her fault?”

“She didn’t really get a choice. When she woke up after surgery, the funeral had already happened,” you explain. “Hotch made the decision without her.”

“Hmm.” He files that information away to think over later. “And Jennifer?”

You shrug. “I can’t be too mad at her, since she did so much for me during those weeks.”

He snorts. “Yeah, out of guilt.”

“Probably, yes,” you concede. “But not having to pack up Emily’s things and take them to storage myself, feeding Sergio and bringing him to stay with me, bringing me hot meals when I was surviving off of cereal alone because I could barely get out of bed, let alone cook for myself… it went a long way.”

On the one hand, it’s a bit comforting for him to hear how Jennifer helped the woman he loves. On the other, she could have ended your pain with three words—Emily is alive—but she didn’t. She let the woman he loves suffer the pain of the loss of a partner.

And she sure didn’t bring him hot meals.

This shouldn’t surprise you, Spencer. You’ve always been the afterthought. The burden. You should be used to this by now.

He clenches the fabric of his pants in his hands. “That doesn’t make me any less angry,” he mutters.

“That’s fine.”

“You can’t expect me to just—wait, what?”

“That’s fine,” you repeat. “I’m not trying to tell you to just get over it or whatever because she was nice to me. Like Em told me, you’re allowed to be mad.”

Spencer bites his lip, resisting the urge to ask you to stop calling her Em. You’re the only one that calls her that—or rather, is allowed to call her that, and it’s obvious why. It’s also similar enough to you calling him Spence that he’ll always start comparing himself to Emily when he hears it, and he’s been trying to stop doing that for months.

“Maybe you just, I don’t know,” you continue, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You could just try to be a little less passive aggressive with JJ?”

He opens his mouth, about to flat-out refuse, but before he can, you tack on, “For me? Just a little bit?”

God damn it.

“Only if she stops bothering me,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, she, um… she was crying when I left, so I think she’s got the message now,” you say quietly.

He feels a bit guilty upon hearing that, but not enough to apologize, or even really regret it. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, he rationalizes to himself. She’s the one who decided to push it anyways.

After a few moments of silence, you reach out and pat his knee. “I love you, you know.”

He knows what you mean, knows that you don’t mean it like that, but his heart still skips a beat. He responds to you with a nod.

You push yourself to your feet, tell him to take all the time he needs, and you’ll see him when he’s ready to come back in, then walk away.

When he’s certain you’re out of earshot, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

---

Emily sits down across from him on the plane, and Spencer is immediately reminded of the morning after he caught you and her together. That time, Emily had folded her hands in front of her on the table. This time, she slides something across it to him. He looks up from his book and sees his missing tie, wrinkles ironed out and folded neatly.

“It was in her bed,” she explains when his brow furrows.

Spencer wonders if that made Emily jealous.

He’s not a good enough person to not hope it did.

“Thanks,” he mutters, putting it away in his bag.

Emily’s quiet, but she doesn’t leave. She must have something else to say. He sighs. “What is it?”  

“Are you going to Rossi’s house tomorrow night?” she asks.

He looks back down to his book. “I don’t know. I’m not so sure I can make it.”

“Okay. Well, Reid, you can be mad at me for as long as you need to. I’m okay with that.”

Spencer frowns. He kind of wishes she wasn’t being so nice and understanding. It makes it harder to be upset with her, and he wants to be upset with her.

“I’d like to say something to you, though, if that’s okay,” she says.

He reluctantly looks back up. “What?”

Emily holds his gaze. “Thank you,” she says earnestly.

He blinks. “Uh, for what?”

Her voice wavers slightly with emotion as she speaks. “For looking out for her when I couldn’t.”

His eyes drift away from Emily and to the couch where you’re sleeping. “My pleasure,” he replies quietly. When he looks back at Emily, she has a curious look on her face.

For the first time, instead of panicking over keeping his secret, instead of shying away, Spencer looks right back at her. A few seconds later, he thinks he sees a flash of realization in her eyes, but it’s so quick he can’t be sure.

“Well, thank you,” she repeats, and takes her leave. He watches as she leans down and tucks the blanket closer around you. He closes his eyes, leans back in his seat, and imagines a world where he was the one adjusting it instead.

---

“You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Emily can barely get the hotel room door open, her hands are shaking so much. A bad day. What Hotch called it, she thinks, was a bit of an understatement.

She’s just come back from taking a witness statement to help wrap up the piano man case—or rather, she was trying to take one.

“I was told that you would only give your statement to me.”

“Why didn’t you let me pull the trigger?” Regina asks.

“Because you would be in prison.” Emily understands why Regina is mad at her, and she’s fine with taking the brunt of it. Lying to her to stop her from shooting the unsub was the right thing to do. “I know it’s hard--”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like…” Regina pauses briefly, anger radiating off of her. “When the monster from your nightmares comes back for you.”

Emily breaks eye contact and looks down. She knows exactly what that’s like.

Regina recognizes it. “Wait--”

Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Look, I’m here as a courtesy--”

“Something happened to you.”

“So do you want to give me your statement or not?”

But Regina is relentless. “What did you do to him, huh? Did you arrest him like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him?”

Emily sits down heavily on the spare bed, drawing your attention away from packing up your things for the flight home. “Em?”

She just shakes her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and closing her eyes. “It was the right thing,” she whispers to herself. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.”

You sit down next to her and place your hand on her back. “What happened?”

Emily swallows hard, feeling sick to her stomach. Her hair is sticking to the back of her neck; she tilts her head to try and dislodge it. You catch on and pull it to the side for her.

“Talk to me, baby,” you urge gently. “Just something, anything I can do to help.”

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. “I—I think,” she stutters. “I th—think I just ruined a woman’s pe—peace of m—mind for good.”

You start rubbing circles on her back and ask, “How?”

“You know, when they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you.”

Emily shudders involuntarily. “I… you know how we found the unsub with a—a victim?”

Slowly, in sentences fractured by gasping breaths, swallows to hold back the nausea, and even a few sobs, she recounts what Regina said to her.

You murmur something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, then, ever so gently, you pull her into your arms.

Emily Prentiss isn’t one to break down, not in her own home and especially not in front of others. She controls any “negative” emotions as best as she can, her feelings only displayed through a trembling voice, misty eyes, or run-down nails. Screaming, tears, and nervous gestures were not befitting of an ambassador’s daughter, after all, and those habits formed in childhood have stayed with her until this day.

But there’s one person who’s the exception. There’s one person with whom those walls just don’t seem to exist. That person, of course, is you.

You pull her into your arms, and Emily Prentiss breaks down, because she can. She can because she knows you’ll be there to help put her back together again.

“You never had a chance to mourn your own death, did you?”

She hadn’t understood what her therapist meant when she said it yesterday morning, but Emily thinks she does now. This time last year, what Regina said would have unsettled her, and she would have felt sorry for her, but she probably wouldn’t have dwelt on it much. It’s not last year, though. It’s this year, and she’s coming undone in your embrace over Regina’s words, words she knows will never leave her.

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still… your monster’s dead. I have to live with mine. That’s my statement.”

Emily has a promise to keep, so she boards the jet early. A few minutes later, Hotch slides into the seat across from her and waits. It still takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to say the words.

“I’m having a bad day.”

---

Spencer’s not sure if you’re going to be able to keep doing this job. He became very familiar with your nervous tics and outward signs of stress during those weeks, and now he can notice them almost immediately.

You seemed okay for the first few months. A few habits cropped up now and then—biting your lip, tapping each fingertip to your thumb in turn—but that was fairly normal. It’s a stressful job.

But then your bottom lip starts getting chapped again, and during conversions with anyone other than Emily, you’re quiet; you often have to be prompted to share your thoughts.

He tries to find out what’s wrong, but when he asks, you shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “But, um, you probably should talk to… somebody, you know?”

You barely look up from your paperwork as you respond. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been seeing a therapist since this whole shitshow started. I’ve got Emily, too. If anything, I should be telling you to go talk to a professional.”

Spencer just says “okay” again, then a few minutes later he excuses himself to go hide in the bathroom and nurse his hurt feelings. He knows you weren’t trying to be mean. Flipping around the suggestion to him most certainly came from a place of love. But he’s not interested in receiving any kind of psychiatric care—he’s actively opposed to it. So being told anything of that sort upsets him and often makes him angry.

Today it’s just salt in the wound, though. The wound itself is Emily. And god, does he ever feel guilty about the resentment that crops up every time her name is in your mouth. She was dead, and every day she was gone, he wished she weren’t. He cried countless tears over her and would’ve given anything to at least be able to say goodbye.

Then the impossible happened—she came back. He didn’t have to say goodbye at all. And sure, there was the initial relief and happiness, and the warmest hug ever, but now he finds himself resenting her. He’d never wish for her to be gone again, but he can’t stop the jealousy, no matter how hard he tries.

Recently, when Emily was shot during a case in California, he held back your hair as you leaned out of the door of the SUV and threw up upon receiving the news. Spencer Reid would never deny that he’s a germaphobe, but he wants that. He wants to be the one taking care of you, the one whose shoulder you fall asleep on, the one going home with you at the end of the day.

He doesn’t want Emily gone, never, ever again, but he wants you back. Those ten weeks, as awful as they were, weren’t the worst he’s had, because during that time, you were always seeking him out. He knows you didn’t want him that way, but if Emily had really been gone, he thinks one day, that might have changed. The thought always brings tears to his eyes.

Still, he would settle for having you the way he did during the years before he fell for you. Things just haven’t been the same since Emily came back. You don’t stay up late talking anymore. You haven’t a movie night in months. You don’t ask about the books he’s reading or what he did over the weekend. This is it: this is exactly what he was afraid of happening when he found you with Emily.

Spencer doesn’t think it’s personal. He thinks it’s because you’re barely hanging on these days, and just don’t have the energy anymore to do things like you used to.

It still hurts, though. He wonders if it’ll ever stop hurting.

---

Respite can come at the strangest of times and in the oddest of ways. Today, it comes to Emily in the middle of a hostage situation at a bank, in the form of a job offer.

The team is trying to find the I.D. of the Queen of Hearts, one of the robbers, when she gets a surprise call from Clyde Easter, her old Interpol Unit Chief, who gives her the information he knows about the unsub. He doesn’t know her name, but he reminds her that she’s seen the unsub before, at a robbery in Paris while she was living there. Then when the team learns that their unsubs want to fly out to Chad, she calls him back.

“Well, unfortunately Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa. Maybe that’s something you could help me with when this is over.”

Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day.”

“Not work, darling. Run,” he corrects. “You see, I’ve been promoted. So, the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

“It’s a hell of a time to bring that up,” she says, ignoring the questioning glances she’s getting from you, Reid, and JJ.

Clyde asks her to think about it, but there’s no time to do that now. She pushes it to the back of her mind and goes back to work.

By the time the day is over, she’s tired. Just tired. You both narrowly survive the explosion in the bank thanks to the alcove you were in, trying to help two elderly patrons. Then a mere hour later, you scare the shit out of her by finding Will strapped to an active bomb and deactivating it yourself. So Clyde’s offer doesn’t come up again until the next morning, when light is spilling through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, warm glow.

You face each other in bed, legs twined together under the covers. “What was that about working for Interpol again?” you ask softly, tucking your arm under your head.

“Clyde was promoted,” she replies just as quietly, as to not disturb the peaceful morning feeling. “He offered me his old job. He wants me to run the London office.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

Emily blows out a breath. “I’d like to at least… consider it.”

You reach out, finding her hand in the sheets and lacing your fingers between hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replies, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, then I think you’re more than just considering it,” you say. “You wouldn’t bring it to me if you didn’t want to take the job.”

Emily thinks for a moment, then admits, “I… I do want to take it. But I have to know what you think, honestly.” She was already robbed out of making one life-changing decision without you in this past year. She has no interest in that happening again.

“Honestly?” you repeat, shifting a little. At her nod, you continue, “I think it’s a good option for us.”

“Us?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, us,” you affirm. “What, you think I’m just going to stay here if you move away?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. This is the first time we’ve talked about something like this.”

“Fair point,” you say, then sigh. “We’re… both struggling here in D.C., Em. I know it and you know it. This place, this team. It used to be my home, but now, I just… it’s not like it was before.”

“You don’t trust Hotch anymore,” Emily says quietly.

You let out a small, broken chuckle. “I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I know he did what he thought he had to, but I just… I can’t.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” she points out. She lets go of your hand to reach up and wipe away a tear that breaks your lash line. “In fact, I’d say it’s reasonable, with what you went through.”

You close your eyes and nod, putting your hand on top of hers to keep it on your cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I wanted to come back, and at first, I felt like I was home. But I just can’t go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened. The only time I feel at home now is… well, it’s when I’m alone with you, just like this.”

“Emily Prentiss, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” you say, cracking a smile.

“Oh, stop,” she says, but she’s blushing. When your giggles subside, she speaks again. “I would love for you to come to London with me. But I don’t want you to forget what you’d be leaving. There’s still a lot of good here.”

You nod. “There is. I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore,” you say softly.

“I understand. You can think about it. I don’t need an answer now.”

So you don’t give her one, not right away. But you do a few hours later. So Emily picks up her phone and dials Clyde’s number.

---

JJ’s a beautiful bride, but Spencer’s eyes keep drifting over to you. The dress you’re wearing tonight is wonderful; from the cut to the color, it suits you perfectly. But that’s not what’s really got his attention. It’s the way you’re carrying yourself. You’re smiling, and you seem truly happy, without any reservations. But there’s also a bit of sadness clinging to you, and he can’t tell what’s causing it.

The party has been going on for a while by the time he finds himself dancing with you. You’d asked him, and now you’ve steered him a little ways away from everyone else. “There’s something I have to tell you,” you say just as he’s about to ask what’s going on.

To his dismay, he doesn’t have a clue what it’s going to be. He doesn’t like not having at least an idea. He swallows, then says, “Okay.”

You can’t meet his eyes; you look down to the floor instead and watch your feet move in time together. So whatever it is, I’m not going to like it, he thinks, and his anxiety spikes. “What is it?” he asks, tightening his grip on you without really meaning to.

You take a deep breath, then look up. “Emily and I are leaving.”

His heart drops and he stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble a little over his feet. “Oh, shi—sorry,” he says. “I just—you’re leaving the BAU? But you’re still going to be in D.C., right?”

You sigh, then guide him off the dance floor and to a quiet spot not too far away. “You remember what Emily said about working for Interpol again yesterday?”

“Interpol?” he repeats, his voice pitching upwards. “You mean, like, overseas?”

“London, to be specific.”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. Things were a little rocky between you and him when Emily came back, and for a little while afterwards, sure, but recently he’d started to feel like he had his best friend back.

Apparently he couldn’t be more wrong.

Spencer’s used to people leaving. First it was his dad, then Ethan. Elle was next, quickly followed by Gideon. JJ was forced out, and although she ended up coming back, it didn’t erase the pain he felt in her absence. And then there was everything that happened with Emily.

So, Spencer’s used to people leaving. In a way, he almost expects it.

He just wishes it would stop hurting so damn much.

What is it about me? he wonders. What is it that makes people run away? There’s clearly something wrong with--

“Hey!”

He jumps, startled out of his introspection. When his eyes refocus on you, you put your hands on your hips.

“I don’t appreciate people being mean to my best friend, you know,” you tell him seriously.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That includes him being mean to himself,” you continue. “I know what you were thinking.”

“What? No, you don’t,” he protests.

“Don’t I?” You put the tip of your finger on your chin. “Was it or was it not something along the lines of, people always leave me, why do they do that, there must be something wrong with me?”

He hates that you’re right, so he doesn’t answer, just scowls and looks away.

“It’s not true, you know.”

“Sure,” he mutters. Sure it isn’t. You’ve only just added your name to the list.

“I mean it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

Spencer doesn’t, and your resulting sigh sounds so frustrated, and then he thinks, Oh, great work, Reid. (Y/N) tells you she’s leaving and what do you do? You piss her off. Honestly, it’s no wonder--

And then your hands are on his face, cradling his cheeks, and he’s too surprised to resist your gaze anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer,” you say, your voice equal parts firm and gentle. “You didn’t drive me away. Not even close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sniffs, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just caused. “Well, I could have gone without picking a fight with you on our first day back at work,” he says, sniffling again.

“What’re you tal—Spencer, that was almost a year ago.”

“Nine months.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You’re not why I’m leaving, okay? You’re…” you trail off and he’s alarmed to see your eyes grow wet. “You’re the opposite, actually. You were the only thing keeping me here when Emily was gone. And now, you’re why it’s so hard to leave.”

“I am?” he whispers before he can think better of it.

“You are,” you affirm. “I think Emily’s actually a little worried you’re gonna talk me out of it.”

It gets a laugh out of him, but right after a little sob escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut. When you hug him, he immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly.

“Hey, this isn’t the end, okay?” you say, and he can tell from the way your voice is trembling that you’re crying, too. “I know you like to ignore it, but we do live in the digital age, and I’ll be hounding you to talk to me at least once a week. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’d certainly hope not,” he murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other, trying not to cry too much. Eventually, you pull away. “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Our flight isn’t for another ten days. I’m gonna be around.”

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, then swipe at your face, clearing away the tears. “Um, we should head back. You still owe me a dance.”

And dance with you he does, swaying gently from side to side with his hand resting on your waist. A look over your shoulder shows Emily and Derek dancing in a similar manner; judging by the way he’s holding her, she told him the news as well.

He has an eidetic memory, but Spencer makes the effort to commit this moment to his brain all the same. He wants to remember the way you’re holding him, resting your head on his chest and running your thumb over the back of his hand every so often. He wants to remember how your skin feels against his, the texture of your hair. The lighting in the backyard and the way it makes you glow. The words that you said, telling him that it’s not his fault, that nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not quite sure he believes it, but you’ve never lied to him before, so he’ll try to accept it.

The song ends, and tears threaten to fall again when you pick up your head and take a step back.

“Hey, no more crying tonight,” you say. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to cry any more tonight. Save it for my grand exit at the airport terminal.”

That makes him break into a smile and he’s able to blink back the tears. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take this dance?” It’s Emily, and she’s looking at him, head tilted in your direction.

“Oh, um.” He clears his throat. “No, um, go—go ahead.”

He passes your hand to her, and what he feels is silly. You’re not some prize to be won; you don’t belong to anyone other than yourself. But he feels like he’s passing you off to Emily, almost… entrusting you to her. The look Emily gives him makes him think she understands this.

“Wait,” you say before she can properly take you into her arms. You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek.

Spencer doesn’t stay around to watch you two dance. He retreats back into the house, fingertips on the spot you kissed. He lets them sit there for a moment, then forces himself to drop his hand. It’s far past time for him to try and move on. He doesn’t want you to leave, but it might be what he needs.

Maybe, just maybe, with some distance, he can begin to heal.

---

On the first day at work without you, Spencer finds a small frame on his desk. He immediately recognizes the picture inside of it—it’s the one you’d kept as your lockscreen for months, much to his dismay.

It’s a picture from the relatively early days of your friendship, well before he felt anything that wasn’t platonic towards you. You’d dragged him out on a weekend off to a nearby amusement park, because, “you can’t die without having ridden a roller coaster at least once, Spence.” He had no desire to do so, but he didn’t have any other plans, so he went along with it.

The roller coaster ended up making him vomit, and the picture is from shortly after that. You’re holding up the camera with one hand and making a peace sign with the other, smiling from ear to ear. He still looks a little queasy, only managing a small smile, but he still looks somewhat happy. And he was, that day. Other than the nausea, he’d had a lot of fun with you.

He picks up the frame and feels something on the back of it. He flips it over and finds one of his lilac colored post-it notes, displaying your handwriting.

“When it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”

Tears blur his vision. Doctor Who. Of course you picked Doctor Who. And you’ve written something else, too, in smaller letters:

If you don’t answer my calls at least twice a month, I’ll tell JJ you’ve been stealing from her Cheetos stash for eight years. Love ya.

He laughs out loud, a little wet giggle that he has to follow up with a sniffle. He slips the note under the frame’s felt backing to keep it safe, then rearranges his things until he settles on the perfect spot for it to sit on his desk. He retrieves a fresh sticky note and scribbles down a reminder to himself to call you when he gets home, sticking it the cover of one of his books. After all, he can’t have JJ knowing about his thievery. The team’s good at what they do, but he doesn’t think anyone would be able to find his body once JJ’s done with him.

His eyes drift back to the photograph, coming to a stop on your face. He misses you already. He even misses the ugly bits, when you’d snapped at each other, when you were crying on his shoulder. When he saw you with Emily that first time. It’s an odd mix of emotions. Longing, nostalgia, grief, happiness, safety. Belonging.

Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

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

tell me what you thought here!

oh my god, i can hardly believe it’s over. there’s still going to be a small epilogue, but it’s optional. thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who read and supported this series and your enthusiasm for it. you’ve made me so very happy. and if you relate to spencer in this, i want you to know you’re gonna find your someone someday. if that’s what you want, i believe you’ll find it eventually. much love to all of you. 💖

series taglist: @sobereinstein , @zizzlekwum , @goldensatine , @closetedreidstan , @afuckingshituniverse , @uswntxx , @johnmulaneyslut , @90spumkin , @mcntsee , @zhuzhubii , @shadyladyperfection , @mggbler , @eva-cadeau , @esmesisle , @anothergayinthelife , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @zozoleesi , @calm-and-doctor , i think that’s everyone?? so sorry if i missed you.

[uweiy]

The Mark/Ouwen sickfic noone asked for pt.2

pt.1

When Ouwen opens his eyes, he recognizes the familiar setting of his living room. He is lying on his couch, a blanket placed over him.

God his head is killing him.

"Here drink that, you'll feel better."

Mark sets down the glass he was holding on the coffee table in front of Ouwen.

This has Ouwen sit up fast "What–"

He immediately winces at the soreness. "What are you doing here ??"

"Hey." Mark shoots him an accusatory look.

"I'm here because someone doesn't know how to take care of themselves and tried to go to work sick.

Shouldn't your first words be 'Thaaaank you Mark for bringing me home' 'I reaaaallly appreciate you Mark' 'Woooow you're so great Mark' ?"

"You brought me home ?" Ouwen asks in a voice that comes out more squeaky than what he would like.

Mark answers, unimpressed "I have a car. And your keys" he says spinning them on his finger. "Easy to find in your pockets."

He walks towards the door and looks back at Ouwen. "Stay put, I'm going to get some more medicine. Try to rest in the meantime."

Ouwen swears he can hear him mutter 'ungrateful' under his breath before the door clicks shut behind him.

When Ouwen is sure Mark is gone he lays pulls his blanket tightly over his head.

Aaaaaaaahhh this was so embarassing. Sheng Ying would never let him live this down if she knew.

As if on cue, his phone rings.

Ouwen groans and reluctantly emerges from the blanket to pick up.

"Dai Ouwen !!!! What were you thinking ??? Coming in to work sick ? Next time I see you I'll hit you so hard you'll find yourself right back in bed !"

"Liu Sheng Ying." Ouwen croaks out. "Could you stop yelling ? My head hurts enough already."

"Okay okay fine. Just get some rest will you ? I've already talked to our boss, she's okay with it. "

She pauses "Do you need anything else ? Want me to come over ?"

Ouwen is momentarily taken aback. He knows they are friends of course but still that is... really nice of her. He almost says yes when he hears Mark coming back in the corridor.

"Oh there's already..." Ouwen stops himself, unsure if he should bring Mark up, lest he wants to be the next topic of office gossip.

"Already what ?"

Oh well.

"Uhm. Well. Mark brought me home and seems he is staying so..."

The other end is quiet for just a tad longer than necessary. Ouwen swears he can hear the smirk in her voice when she answers

"Mark huh ?"

"It's not what you th–" But before he can finish his sentence, the phone is fished out of his hands.

"Thank you for your call, Ouwen is not available, he needs to rest. Goodbye!" Mark says pleasantly into the speaker and promptly hangs up. Then he immediately drops his fake smile and glances sternly at Ouwen.

Ouwen lets out a long-suffering sigh and covers his face with his hands. "Oh my god what are you, my mom ?"

Sheng Ying would definitely never let him live this down.

"Today, yes." Mark wiggles his finger unhappily. "Would you listen to me if that was the case ? I said rest. And to drink this. And here you are, on the phone, not drinking this."

"Fine mom."

Mark makes a "tch" at him and moves towards the kitchen, keeping his eyes fixed on Ouwen while making finger signs that clearly signal "I'm watching you".

Ouwen pointedly raises the glass in response.

Then he chugs the black liquid in one go and immediately makes a face.

Mark snorts.

Ouwen glares at him.

But now Mark seems more focused on getting the items of what seems to be a full on grocery shopping–instead of a simple errand for medicine–out of his plastic bags and onto the counter, so Ouwen settles back down on the pillows and watches him get busy in his kitchen through half lidded eyes.

"What are you making ?" He asks after a while.

Mark shoots him a sideways glance over the onion he is chopping. "Chicken soup."

"Hey don't look so suspicious !" Mark says when Ouwen squints at him.

"I'm pretty good at this." he adds, pointing the knife at Ouwen and wiggling an eyebrow.

It looks kind of surreal. Mark in his kitchen, making food.

Even though he doesn't have a lot of expectations for the taste, judging from that horrid liquid earlier, Ouwen definitely doesn't have the energy to get up and do it himself. And even the fact that Mark took the time to... actually Ouwen can't remember the last time someone has cooked for him. Despite the fact that he's actually shivering he can feel warmth welling up in his chest and up his throat, threatening to spill beyond his lips, making him say things he doesn't mean to say.

Like the fact that Mark should stop doing things that made Ouwen like him so much. That was just making it unnecessarily hard to get over him. To even want to get over him.

"I don't like onions" Ouwen blurts out instead.

Mark simply rolls his eyes. "I know, I know. I promise you won't taste them."

Having nothing to answer to that, Ouwen closes his eyes, letting the sounds from the kitchen lull him to sleep.

___

A.N : Asghgshg I'm not completely satisfied but at some point I had to post it right... Dunno when the next part will be ready ✌️bear with me haha

Previous/Next

[builder051]

The talk

Chasing Ghosts

(I generally do not play in this arena; DO NOT ask for other stories with PMS, etc., as illness features. I do loosely plan to continue this thread, though. Or @mohini-musing might pick up for me.)

Warnings: weight (though not ED context), SA inc. prostitution, blood, emeto

____________________________

Tasha comes down the hall and stands like a ghost behind the sofa.

James is in the recliner across the living room, and he barely looks up from the textbook he's pretending to peruse. The quiet music he's had playing in one ear has long since captured his attention more than the multiplication of matrices. He's fairly sure he'll never use the skill lest he become a software engineer post-graduation, and the prospect of that's looking pretty slim.

He sees Tasha out of his peripheral vision, but doesn't move his head or lift his eyes for acknowledgment. She's probably drifted down from her weekend high, realized it's Sunday night, and gotten up for a Gatorade and maybe a glance at her homework.

Steve, though, who's lying on his stomach and taking up the whole of the couch, practically jumps to attention. He stands, scoots, and sits again in the amount of time it takes James to blink and make the first inhalation of a laugh.

"Sorry," Steve says, as if he's personally offended Tasha and just been called out. "I didn't mean... I was just, like, studying..."

Tasha shrugs. "Didn't come to sit with you," she says, in a voice that recalls the 'boys are gross' tone of young teenagerhood.

"What's up, then?" James asks, trying to bring back the balance of the room's atmosphere.

Tasha makes an ugly face. She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "Can I talk to you alone?"

James scoffs. "You think there's privacy in this apartment?"

"I can go, I don't know--" Steve looks around.

"Just talk," James says. He almost rolls his eyes, but the undercurrent of Tasha's affect seems to hold an air of seriousness. If there's something she needs to confess or ask for help with, he doesn't want her to feel less than secure.

Tasha lets out a breathy sort of sigh. "Blood," she says. "There's blood."

"Huh?" Steve responds first. "Where?"

James takes a little longer to contemplate the admission. Has she cut herself? There's no visible damage; Tasha's not holding an injury or howling in pain. Bloody vomit? That's nothing new, really, and even with vampire-red teeth, which she doesn't have, Tasha probably wouldn't come crying to him.

James is still thinking when Tasha points vaguely down the hall and to the left, which is, technically speaking, her side of the apartment. Or at least the bedroom and bathroom they'd parceled out for her when they'd unofficially moved her out of her dreary campus housing.

"What, in your room?" Steve asks.

"No." Tasha screws up her eyes. "I mean... I'm bleeding."

The cogs continue to turn in James's head, and just as he lands on an answer, Steve gives up, shaking his head and saying, "I don't get it."

"Fuck you," Tasha mumbles. "Both of you." She turns and starts to head back down the hallway.

"Tash." James jumps to his feet, his algebra book falling to the floor.

"You guys are fucking gay..."

"Hey!" Steve interjects.

James flaps his hand at Steve to shut him up. "Maybe we're gay, but I'm your big brother." He shoots a quick glance at Steve, hoping this won't surpass his no privacy promise. They've done some pretty wild stuff together: partying, puking, cleaning the carpet... Period talk shouldn't be too far out of their wheelhouse. At least, not if Tasha wants to talk about it.

Tasha huffs and rounds the edge of the sofa. She stands beside the arm, leaning her hip against it for a moment, before finally deciding to sit down, as far away from Steve as possible.

"I..." James starts, assuming it's his responsibility to keep the conversation going. "I assumed you hadn't been, um. You know."

Tasha's 100 pounds soaking wet. In her usual cutoff shorts and tank tops, he'd give her 95. Maybe 92 if she's detoxing. James assumes she has something like female athlete triad going on, except without the athlete. He doesn't like to think she's just too skinny to go through... normal biological processes. If he blames the drugs, sees them as wrecking her body instead of bringing her solace, then he'll have to turn eyes on himself, and there's no way in hell he wants to do that.

"Smart one," Tasha says. "And exactly how much thought do you give to the functioning of my uterus?"

Steve gives an 'oh shit' face, looking from James to Tasha and back again as if wondering how he's been so thick headed. James agrees, but is also relieved, in a way, that his boyfriend hasn't been thinking about his sister in, well, that way.

"Seeing as I have, more than once, pulled you out of an R-rated situation with iffy consent, and you have yet to become pregnant--" James starts.

"Yeah, ok, you don't have to..." Tasha shakes her head.

James decides not to stop his momentum. "Do you know how much sex you're having? How often you're using protection?"

"I said, you don't have to." Tasha glares at him. "I don't have one. A cycle, or whatever. I can't get knocked up."

"Well, I figured that, but you can still get an STD--

"I don't think you're hearing me," Tasha says. "I don't have one. I haven't. Like, ever."

"But--what?" James squints and cocks his head. "What about, what was it? Cheerleading camp?"

"That stupid summer program when I was 16?" Tasha bites her lip. "Yeah, that was a lie."

"You're losing me." Steve reminds them he's part of the conversation as well.

"What, didn't your mom send you to cheerleading camp when you were a sullen teen?" Tasha asks him, seemingly in all seriousness.

"Um. No." Steve withers a little under her stare. "There was a threat to beat it out of me with a bible when I was that age, but that never came to fruition."

"Mm. Fun times." Tasha scrubs her hair back from her face. "I told mom of the moment I started at camp, so then she couldn't go nuts about the moment I 'became a woman,' or whatever."

Tasha has always seemed like a little kid to James. Her stint at camp had only taken place... he quickly calculates... 3ish years ago. Tasha is a kid. She hasn't busted 20 years old yet. But, for the first time James wonders if other, more metaphorical factors are at play.

The idea quickly fades, though, when he remembers the actual topic at hand. "Ok, but Tash," James says. "What's actually going on right now?"

Tasha practically sinks into the couch cushions. She wraps both arms around her abdomen. "Blood," she says. "Kinda...everywhere."

"We'll clean the bathroom later," James says dismissively.

"And I'll do laundry," Steve offers. "I used to be the scrawny kid who got beat up a lot. I can do bloodstains."

"Not helping, babe," James tells him before Tasha can get a word in.

"Feel sick," Tasha admits, rather suddenly.

"Bathroom it is, then," James decides. "But, let's use mine."

Tasha seems to have turned into a shapeless blob on the corner of the couch, her chest meeting her thighs with her arms still wrapped around her stomach. Her face is in her knees, which James has to admit, would be easier to clean than the carpet.

"Come on," he says gently, taking Tasha's shoulder. "If you're gonna puke, don't do it here, please."

"But I already diiiiid," Tasha complains, drawing out the last word and adding the hiccup of a fake crying fit.

"Sorry." James hooks his flesh arm across Tasha's chest and lets her cling to him down the hall. He takes her into his and Steve's disorganized yet bleach-shined bathroom. Cleaning was practically Steve's hobby. Yet keeping down the clutter? Not his strong suit.

Unsure of exactly what kind of sick his sister intends to be, he sets her down, fully clothed, on the toilet, which, of course, has the seat up. Then he dives for the trash can and shoves it into Tasha's chest.

She gives James an appreciative glare, then sets her chin on the edge of the trash can, ostensibly to wait for an upcoming retch. James can practically see it, rising from the bottom of her spine, up her back, to her neck and throat before finally pushing a pitiful amount of spit and bile out of her mouth.

"Ok..." James sighs. If she's down to just that, she's been at it a while. Lost a lot of fluids already.

"Gatorade?" Steve asks in a chipper tone, putting voice to what James is thinking without a trace of delicacy.

"Hmph." Tasha spits. "If it'll... make it stop burning..."

"Lemme guess, vodka last night?" James tries to make her laugh. Maybe cough.

"Fuck you."

"Eh, we'll talk about that later," James says, hoping he doesn't sound threatening. "For now, how about I go with you?" James pulls on Steve's arm and heads for the bathroom door.

"Hey, you said no privacy here..." Tasha's irritated and sickly voice trails after them.

"Yeah, well, puking people aren't allowed to leave the bathroom," James says. "That's the house rule that trumps all the others."

"But I puke on the couch all the time--"

"That's because it's too hard to get your fucking limp-ass octopus body into the bathroom in the first place." James rolls his eyes. "Just sit tight."

He quickly drags Steve into the kitchen. "Ok," he says. "You have to know about this stuff. You took health class in high school, right?"

"I've lived with a woman," Steve reminds James, a little shamefully. "But Peggy was super private. You know, like inhibited, about, like, um..."

"Yeah, I get it." James shrugs. Then, "Did you know you can stem a nosebleed with a tampon?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know..." James shakes his head.

"Why do you?" Steve looks a little take aback now.

"The field. Desert air's pretty damn dry."

"Ah. Ok."

"We'd get donations of shit from the states. Care packages, Costco overstock, you know. Just, whatever. When we got pads and stuff, whoever was unloading the box would just hold them over their head and yell 'who needs them?'"

"And I'm assuming people would just raise their hands?" Steve postulates.

"Yup." James pops the P. "No privacy. Everyone knows everyone else's bathroom habits. When you're deep in the field, there's no men's and women's facilities. Half the time the privies don't even have doors."

"Ok." Steve nods. "Experience, then. You have lots of experience."

James shrugs again. "You have to be chill, ok?" He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Gatorade. He holds one to either side of Steve's neck, as if to physically cool him. "This is, like, super weird and awkward for her. She's really scared, I think, and her brave face just looks...jerk-ish."

"Yeah." Steve takes the Gatorade. "I can be good with this. I really care about her, even if she doesn't think I do."

"I know you do," James says. "It's all in the presentation right now, though. She's skittish. But, also, for some reason, willing to talk. We have to tease it out. And you can't ruin it, ok?"

"Ok, ok." Steve seems to understand, even if he doesn't appreciate the words.

They head back to the bathroom, where Tasha has, for whatever reason, decided to heave into the toilet instead of the trash. She squats awkwardly, sitting on one heel. From the angle he's at, James can see a spreading stain on the back of Tasha's shorts, which has made an imprint on her ankle and the bottom of her foot.

"Don't move," James says, reaching for a towel.

"The fuck would I?" Tasha coughs, holding her stomach and moaning.

"Well, when you're done, stand up slowly and wipe your feet."

"...Shit..." Tasha spits. "Like I said. It's fucking everywhere."

"Yeah..." Menstrual blood, James has no experience with. But blood in general, yeah. It does get fucking everywhere. There's that first moment when the entire body and all its systems are still in shock, like when the arm is first blown off, and then all he can see is red. Even the bone that was white just a second ago is lost in a sea of scarlet--

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," Steve says with a grin, clearly trying to be friendly, but missing out on one, or more, of the points. "You're not pregnant."

"Well, of course I'm not, you dingbat," Tasha replies, rolling her eyes so hard that James is sure it must give her a headache. If she doesn't already have one. "And besides. He used a condom."

"Wait," James says. He's been preoccupied by not looking at Steve. "You know that?" he pokes cautiously. "For sure?"

"...Yeah..."

"Every time?"

"To be honest," Tasha starts, spitting and pushing herself away from the toilet. She crab-walks to the towel, wipes her feet, then sits on it, criss-cross like a little kid. "I don't know if he actually gets off every time." She draws her mouth into a straight, defensive line.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything?" James asks.

Steve looks very much like he wants to get the bleach from the cabinet under the sink, pour it into one ear, tip his head, and see if it comes out the other.

"He pulls out," Tasha says bluntly. "And there's never any, you know. Gunk."

"Wait, he does both?" Steve's eyebrows disappear into his hair. "A condom and--"

"Ok, ok." James puts up his hands to shush them both. "And this is, what, this is your dealer we're talking about?"

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to call him that," Tasha says with a shrug.

"What else would we call him?" Steve now looks disgusted. "That'd be stupid to let him just, like, defile you every week."

"He doesn't--" Tasha starts, but then she hiccups, and maybe thinks better of what she was going to say. She still stares Steve down, though, then looks to James as if grasping at straws of support.

"He's, like, a manufacturer?" Tasha turns her gaze sideways.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." James puts his hand over his face. He'd assumed Tasha was getting her stuff on the street, through a framework of various interlopers. Now he's getting news that his kid sister is taking substances thrown together in some coed's bathtub? This is too much.

"Tash--" James starts, trying hard to keep his bubbling anger and concern from spilling over.

"He's a PhD candidate," Tasha says defensively. In Chemistry. And--" her eyes flicker from side to side as she seems to wonder what's appropriate to spill. "I won't tell you his name. But... I'll tell you that he got kicked off the football team for being too violent, but he still wears his green jersey all the time to prove how much better and calmer he's become since that happened, which was only in the freshman year of his undergrad..." Tasha babbles on.

The more she defends the guy, the more James hates him. He feels bad for him a little, slinging synthesized crack to get by. He feels better for Tasha, knowing that what she's taking is most probably pure. But the sex thing is--

"It's kinda creepy," Steve says, taking the words right from James's mouth. "Like, how much older than you is he?"

"I don't know." Tasha shrugs. "Not that much, I don't think. Started school early, finished fast. And I'm not sure this is his first post-graduate program..."

"Maybe shouldn't've added that last part," James says, screwing up his eyes. "So he's had, like, however long to prey on girls who are barely legal. Who might not even be legal..."

"Well, I'm legal, and I can do what I want." Tasha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah," James sighs. "Unfortunately."

"But what about the thing with the handcuffs? The gang rape? Losing your bra?" Steve blurts out.

"Wait, you..." Tasha's eyes flash with anger. "You told him?"

"What did I say about privacy?" James quickly reminds her. "The non-puking kind? And, um," He looks to Steve. "Maybe a little respect?"

"Sorry," Steve mutters. "But--I really do--"

"I don't really remember that stuff," Tasha says.

James studies her face, but he can't tell if she's lying.

"Probably just party stuff that got out of hand."

'You mean you were too stoned to know the difference between your regular and some random dude off the street,' James thinks. 'What do you do at parties? And how the fuck do you slip past me?'

"He's your pimp, too, isn't he?" Steve asks, pointing at Tasha rather accusatorially, in James's opinion.

"No!" Tasha leans forward and brings her arms down to cover her clearly still sore abdomen. "Bruce wouldn't--" She swallows. "I didn't-- You didn't hear--"

James hasn't been a student long enough to know who was on the football team 4, 5, 6-odd years ago. He supposes he could look it up, crossing the name with accounts of any violent incident that amount of time ago. He's not sure he wants to, though he'll probably wind up looking it up later. Either that, or Steve will. James still has his ex-mil connections, a few of which were absorbed into the local police force. Steve, on the other hand, is better with social media and navigating the niceties of such mysteries as SnapChat and TikTok.

"Ok, fine," James says, just ameliorate his sister's panic.

"He doesn't even drug me at parties," Tasha goes on, probably unaware of how terribly young and desperate she sounds, making lame-ass excuses so she can keep her boy toy.

"And you've had other guys who did?" Steve asks incredulously, even though James shakes his head frantically at him to try to get him to shut up.

"You know Rumlow?" Tasha asks, since apparently she's now all about spilling names.

James shakes his head, but Steve screws up his eyes and says in a disgusted voice, "him?"

"Yeah..." Tasha sighs and looks down at her fingernails, which are stained rust-red at the root. "Remember the night I didn't come home?"

"Yeah, and scared the living shit out of us because your phone was off," James fills in the blanks.

"Well, I didn't turn it off."

"You mean that asshole kept you overnight without any means of getting yourself out of there?" Steve looks downright sick. "I mean, I know he looks slimy, but that?"

"I think Maria accidentally slept on the couch and found me at, like, 6am trying to stick my head in the linen closet because I couldn't find the bathroom." Tasha laughs, though the situation is anything bur funny.

"And I was so pissed at her for having you out all night..." James trails off.

"Yeah, maybe respect my choices a little more?" Tasha glares at him. "I mean, Maria's studying to become an EMT now. You can't think that badly of her."

'Great,' James thinks. 'Someone who'll drug Tasha to the gills every weekend.' She'll be less likely to overdose, but James has seen it all too often in the field. Newly minted medical personnel eager to sow off their skills and rushing into action.

"Yeah," James says, trying not to smirk. "So you got a girlfriend and a boyfriend now?"

"Ew, no," Tasha replies. "Friends with...benefits, I guess. If you even want to call it that. Folks who look out for each other, using a barter system?"

"Did you recently take World History?" James can't help but poking at her vocabulary.

"Fucking-a, I don't know. Once I pass, it's in my past."

"That's actually a good motto," Steve points out.

"Anyway," James says, bringing the conversation back to topic. "None of your...friends... are invited to this house."

"It's not like I want to bring them over for dinner," Tasha replies. "I guess drop off and pickup might happen, since, well, you know now, and I don't have a car." She shrugs. "Cool?"

James hates the idea of someone inebriated driving a car in which his sister is a passenger, despite the fact that he's done it before. Regularly, actually. Maybe he just hates the idea of the driver being someone who Tasha just fucked. The air might be heavy between them. They might smell like each other's deodorant and musk. They might kiss each other good bye. The thought makes James's stomach turn.

But, "sure," he says. "That's fine.” At least she'll come home.

James shares a glance with Steve, which seems to confirm the same sentiments, "Yeah," Steve echoes, as if his opinion counts for anything. "Fine."

[yikeswtfmate]

(1) New Message from Unknown Number

main masterlist // (1) New Message Masterlist // next part

Summary: Y/N is drunk and can’t remember her ex’s number.

A/N: Hello, it is I, the idiot who writes Social Media AUs when she’s drunk but is too lazy to put them in the proper format and just leaves them to die somewhere on her laptop

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Social Media AU - that’s a lie, it’s actually just texts in Word format 🤡)

Warnings: swearing, dumbassery

Unknown Number: Hey asshat so listen

Unknown Number: I kno we hvnt spoken since like

Unknown Number: High school but whateve idc

Unknown Number: U’re an asshle so I dnt even care that its like…

Unknown Number: 3 in the morning nvrmd

Unknown Number: Ive ben dared to txt my hottest ex by these evil witchS so

Unknown Number: Here u go

Unknown Number: At least u had decent abs so congrats on tht jfc

Unknown Number:  also u dnt get to complain abt this txt bc like

Unknown Number: u dated me for 6 months on a dare so U KNOW WHat this shuold feel like ya

Unknown Number: Wow dude that sounds like a dick move

Unknown Number: Seriously who the hell dates someone for 6 months on a dare?

Unknown Number: Doesn’t that only happen in movies though?

Unknown Number: hey bitchass dont act like u don’t kno what im talkinG abt

Unknown Number: Oh shit yeah, sorry. I don’t know who this asshole of an ex is but I sure as hell am not him

Unknown Number: Dude sounds like a complete waste of human space

Unknown Number: And I think I wouldn’t get to live it down if my friends would hear I did something that shitty

Unknown Number: Wait lemme ask Sam

Unknown Number: Nah, he says Steve would’ve beaten my ass if I were to do that so there u go

Unknown Number: m sorry who tf are u

Unknown Number: Bucky

Unknown Number: what kind of stupid name is bucky

Unknown Number: Shit man, u’re the one blowing up my phone at 3 in the morning, sending me weird ass messages when I don’t even know u and u dare say my name is stupid???

Unknown Number: Sheit srry

Unknown Number: Is been A long night

Unknown Number: nd week

Unknown Number: Actlly make thAt the whle entire fuckin month

Girl with asshole ex: Srry fr bothering u

Unknown Number: It‘s cool

Girl with asshole ex: Hey the witches ask if ure hot

Bonky: Yeah

Girl with asshole ex: WHAT THE FCK MAN AT LEST BE A LIL BIT HUMBLE SMH

Bonky: U wanted me to lie?

Girl with asshole ex: Fair point

Girl with asshole ex: They wnt a pic

Girl with asshole ex: Pic or it didn’t happen punk

Girl with asshole ex: Tht was nat

Bonky: What kind of party are u at that you can constantly text me?

Girl with asshole ex: Wanda’s place

Girl with asshole ex: Girls night

Girl with asshole ex: Getting hammered on wine BITCH

Girl with asshole ex: Also dnt change the subject

Bonky: I don’t even know your name

Girl with asshole ex: Why would I tell u my name I just want to see a suppsdly hot asssd

Bonky: You know mine and now you want me to send u a pic of me

Bonky: Bit of a disadvantage here babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: BABE if I tell u my name will u send a pic of u so we kno u arnt a 60yr old perv

Bonky: I’ll think about it

Girl with asshole ex: Hey fuck u

Girl with asshole ex: Not fair

Bonky: How do I know you’re not the 60yr old perv?

Girl with asshole ex: Cuz she got big tiddies to prove

Girl with asshole ex: And that was wanda

Girl with asshole ex: So now u know my fridsn

Bonky: Still don’t know your name tho babe

Bonky: Also tell Wanda she shouldn’t give out this type of info to strangers

Girl with asshole ex: ure not a stranger anymore bonky

Girl with asshole ex: ure my babe nao

Bonky: I’m going to let that Bonky slide just bc u’re cute

Bonky: But I’m also going to stop replying until you tell me your name

Girl with asshole ex: U think im cute?

Girl with asshole ex: 

Girl with asshole ex: I mean u havnt even seen me but thats fair

Girl with asshole ex: Wand and nat say its true so ill believe u rnt lying to me rn

Girl with asshole ex: But I wanna see if ure cute

Girl with asshole ex: Wait why r u up st 3 in the mrng I mean we re drunk but wht r u doing

Girl with asshole ex: Babe u need to take better care of urself

Girl with asshole ex: Babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Ph shit ure actually ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: I dont like this

Girl with asshole ex: I actually like talking to u

Girl with asshole ex: Pls stop ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: COME BACK AND LOBE ME

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: It’s Y/N

Bonky: Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? 

Babe: fcuk u

Bonky: I’m up at 3 bc we ordered pizza and decided it’s time to beat Sam’s ass in Mario Kart once and for all

Babe: Nd how’s that going for ya?

Bonky: Bitch has been beating us for the past 3 hours

Bonky: Thor is the only one getting at least close to him now so we’re about to give up

Babe: Wait shit how r u replying so fast if ure playing Mario kart tho

Bonky: I gave up two hours ago

Babe: Quitter

Bonky: Just gotta know which fights to pick babe

Babe: Heads up I might be fallin asleep soon

Bonky: Drink some water before that, maybe get some food in u as well to soak up all the alcohol and have an advil close for tomorrow

Babe: Ok MOM

Bonky: Hey Wanda willingly told me you have “big tiddies” so your friends don’t seem to be doing a good job of taking care of you

Bonky: Might as well let me do it so you don’t die tmrw

Babe: Ohhhh so u careeeee babe im touched

Babe: Kkkkkk Ill talk tu u tmrw ill be dead soon

Babe: Nd I do have big tiddies

Bonky: Good night babe

*

Babe: What the shit

Bonky: I see you survived

Babe: Barely

Babe: My head might explode soon and I feel like I’ve vomited for an entire lifetime

Babe: TMI sorry

Bonky: I’d like to point out I’m glad I don’t have to decipher your texts anymore and that you can actually spell properly

Babe: Fuck you Buckaroo

Bonky: I would also like to remind you that I have on good authority that you have “big tiddies” so don’t make me use that against you

Babe: I am going to kill Wanda

Babe:Ugh I need coffee

Babe: I’ll talk to you later

Bonky: I’ll be waiting for you babe

*

Babe: So

Babe: BABE

Bonky: Yes baby?

Babe: 

Bonky: Nah, you love it

Babe: Fine

Babe: You still haven’t sent a pic of you though. I might be able to rise Nat and Wanda from the dead if you do

Bonky: What do I get in return?

Babe: The promise that I will keep replying even though you might turn out to be an ugly orc?

Bonky: Not enough

Babe: Fine. I’ll keep talking to you until you want me to stop. Or until I get bored of you

Bonky: Eh, you can do better

Babe: What do you WANT?

Bonky: A pic of you in return

Babe: I’m not sending you nudes, perv

Bonky: If I wanted to see you naked and be a dick about it, I could’ve asked last night, don’t worry

Bonky: But if you’ll know how I look it’s only fair I should know how you look

Babe: That sounds reasonable

Bonky: I’d say it’s a fair exchange

Babe: Fine, you first then

Bonky: If you don’t send me a pic of you afterwards babe I will stop replying, just so you know

Bonky:

Babe: Did you type super hot guy with the most beautiful eyes in the world in Google or something?

Bonky: I’m touched but no. Sam took that photo at a work event

Babe: Bitch do you really expect me to believe this is you? That looks like a guy who just stepped out of a magazine, I highly doubt I would have the luck to text him instead of my ex when drunk

Bonky:

Bonky: Are you always this annoying?

Babe: …

Bonky: What? Do you want me to take a selfie with the fucking newspaper now? I read the news online babe, I’m not getting off of this couch just so I can buy a stupid newspaper to prove it’s me

Babe: Do you have one in a suit?

Bonky: …why am I putting up with this?

Bonky: Hold on

Bonky:

Bonky: It’s been 5 minutes, are you going to reply?

Bonky: You still have to send me a picture of you though, a deal is a deal you know

Bonky: Fine, I warned you

Babe: Shit sorry

Babe: Hi Bucky, this is Natasha

Bonky: Hi Natasha. Is Y/N alright?

Babe: Uhm how should I put this?

Babe: Y/N is crying right now and she can’t reply herself

Bonky: What? What happened? Is she okay?

Babe: Oh yeah

Babe: She’s just crying because (and I’m quoting here) you’re “so beautiful, it’s like all my wet dreams and fantasies have come together. I swear this is some cosmic joke, this is not happening”

Babe: I’m not sure if she’s laughing or crying now

Babe: But she keeps yelling at me that I have to send you the most perfect picture of herself that has ever existed or you will stop talking to her

Babe: I think she started crying again because “I will never live up to that level of perfection, he told me that I have to know which fights to pick”

Babe: Uh yeah so here

Babe: 1 Photo Attached

Bonky: Hey Nat, could you tell Y/N that I would like to talk to her now?

Babe: Sure

Babe: Hey

Bonky: Baby?

Babe: Yeah?

Bonky: You picked the wrong fight if you think “you will never live up to this level of perfection”

Babe: Oh God

Bonky: Stop being an idiot

Bonky: And listen to me

Bonky: I would really like to keep talking to you. Mainly because you’re an idiot who makes me laugh, but it’s also the fact that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my entire life

Babe:

[calliope-love-corner]

Insomnia

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Up late again, are we?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden unexpected voice. Never a dull day in this house.

"CHRIST, Annabelle, you have GOT to stop doing that!" I scold the silhouette against my dark bedroom window, clutching my blankets in tight balled fists, heart pounding. I'd bolted upright from where I'd been comfortably laying down in my bed, a position I had held for the past several hours. I held my phone close to my chest, where it had once hung loosely in my hands, bright screen angled down to my face. Annabelle gave a low, amused chuckle, and folded her arms, leaning on the windowsil.

"Mm. Don't you have an early shift tomorrow?" She asked coyly, ignoring my protests. My heart finally steadying itself, I rub my eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark of my bedroom. She was right- I had to go in at 8 tomorrow- or today, rather, as it was already just past 2am.

"Don't YOU have something to do other than sneak into my room at night!?" I huff, only really half annoyed at her. This wasn't the first time she seemed to pop up out of nowhere. "Seriously, how did you even get IN here?"

I saw her dark outline shrug. "Oh, you know. Dark apartment, bright screen, quiet footsteps. I can just slip right in, and most of the time, you're too preoccupied to notice."

Fair enough. How she got into my apartment in the first place I suppose ill never know, but I guess a girl's gotta have her secrets. I sigh.

"Whatever. Just. Keep the spiders out of here right now."

"Awe, why?" She prods, adding just enough whine to her tone to make her seem a little bit genuinely disappointed. I know her better than that, though, and she knows that she can't play me that easy. She probably already is playing me, though, in some roundabout way. There was something about the web- their girls always knew how to play the long game, and I was always just along for the ride.

"You don't even know they're there! Too dark to see, and ignorance is bliss, is it not?"

I nervously look around in the darkness, trying to scout any sign of hairy legs or scuttling movement. "I think it's the not knowing that's the worst part, honestly."

"If you insist. Fine, I'll leave your room spider-free. For now."

I could almost hear her wink. I let myself relax a little- as much as one can around someone notorious for their manipulation skills. She'd ways been kind to me, though, and even if at the beginning id been extra-cautious about sniffing out ulterior motives, her presence had become sort of a routine for me. I'd let my guard down. I was playing a dangerous game, and I knew that, and part of me was just waiting for the day she decided she'd gotten what she needed from me and betrayed me. Until then, though, she was just too damn charming.

"Thanks. I guess." I purse my lips, well aware that not setting a horde of spiders loose in someone's bedroom was the bare minimum requirement for politeness. Annabelle laughed again.

"You're funny. So, what's keeping you up, then?" She moves to sit down at the edge of my bed, tucking her retro skirt under her legs as she set her slender form on the mattress. Her weight was barely enough to shift the bed at all. I scoot away, either to give her room to sit, or to put a little more space between her and I. I could not confidently tell you which one. I set my phone down on my pillow and crossed my legs.

"Dunno. Can't sleep, don't want to? Something like that." I tuck my legs up, resting my chin on my knees. "I guess I probably could, but I've been taking a lot of benadryl lately, and it'll make me lag in the morning."

"Oh, well, that's nothing one of your fancy energy drinks can't fix, no?"

"I guess not. I mean, ill be tired no matter what, and a monster will always get me going, but I sorta have to get out of bed in the first place to drink one."

"And that's the hardest part then, isn't it."

"Mm."

This is far too mundane for her to want to really talk about. I wonder why she's really here.

"Guess you have a choice to make, then. Wait 'till you get tired naturally, which could take ages, knowing you- or make yourself sleep and face the consequences in the morning."

I flop back down onto my mountain of pillows, and grumble. "I'm shit at decisions. No matter how simple."

Annabelle laughed again, sweet and genuine and low in her throat. I smile a little. "It's true. You can never make up your mind, can you? Always have to stop and think."

"Mm," I agree. "If you asked me who I would save if my mom and my best friend were hanging off the edge of a cliff, I think I'd just fucking throw myself off."

Another laugh from my visitor. I feel proud of myself for amusing her, a reminder of my place in nearly every friend group I've ever been in as 'the funny one' since as long as I can remember. It feels good to make people laugh.

"So hard on yourself today." She poses the thought in a way that's more fond and inquisitive than accusatory. "Why?"

I crack my knuckles one at a time absentmindedly. "Well, I'm still switching over my medication, so I've felt pretty weird all day. Spacey. More dissociative than usual."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Mirrors have been especially unkind to me today." I continue. "The caffeine probably didn't help either. It's been all spiraling thoughts and impulse ideas and such since I woke up, really."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I was feeling fine last week though. Parents want me to wait until I'm all switched over before asking to go back on my 20-dose in the morning, but I think I've already decided that's what I wanna do."

I glance over at her sharp brown eyes, that look almost burgundy in just the right light. They're quite freaky, really. Now that my vision has adjusted to the dark, I see her intently looking down at me, as if hung on every word I say.

"Also," I start, realizing how long I've gone on for. "You are FAR too good at making me talk."

"Hah," she smiles. "Maybe consider: you just talk a lot?"

"True. Never been good at shutting up."

"Or maybe I just like listening! Who's to say?" She gives a coy shrug. I squint at her, the traces of a grin tugging at my lips.

"Who's to say." I repeat with a sort of finality, finding myself enamored with the moment. The moment of pause between her next speaking point seems to stretch on for hours before she finally makes the call to break the silence.

"You know," she starts, with that voice of hers that I could never seem to tune out. "I've not really minded our chats lately, really! You're very funny."

"First of all, I know," I accept the compliment. "Second of all, you minded before?"

I'm not exactly hurt by the revelation, per se, more surprised that she's even acknowledged a change in her out attitude out loud. If her attitude has changed at all. I'm not stupid- I know what the web does. I know I can never truly, wholly believe anything she says. But I can choose to try, if just for now.

"Sure," she shrugs. "Most of the time, when I talk to people- especially any of you assistants, good lord- it's busywork. Chores to do, to check off the list. But lately, I've found myself looking forward to our visits. Isn't that strange?"

Always turning things into a question for me to answer. Always trying to get something more out of me. Information, my thoughts. She needs to know how I feel. What I'm feeling now, how I felt earlier, how I'll feel later, how I feel about her. I'm a puzzle piece. I'm a pawn in a big, web-infested game of chess, but my heart still skips a beat when she tells me she actually sort of likes spending time with me, even if she is lying. She probably is.

I decide not to give her the satisfaction of telling her how I feel with this one.

"Personally, I think I'd look forward to them a lot more if you didn't scare the absolute shit out of me every fuckin' time."

She laughs again. "Oh, come on, now. I have to do something to keep in interesting, right? Have to keep you on your toes somehow. If you expect me, I become SIGNIFIFANTLY less scary."

That was true enough. I really didn't mind the occasional jumpscare, to be honest. It did keep things interesting as she said.

"Whatever." I roll my eyes in mock annoyance. She stands up, straightens out her skirt, and folds her arms neatly behind her back.

"Well, I suppose i should get going, then. Don't want to keep you up too long." She smiles.

"What, that's it for tonight? Where's the pizazz, the charm, that signature web flare?"

Annabelle chuckles. "Afraid so, darling. And you know very well that the web works more in subtlety than any other power." She strolls lazily over to the side of the bed. I watch her carefully with my hands folded behind my head.

"Wouldn't exactly call giant fucked up spiders all that subtle."

"Everyone's a critic, I suppose. But a literal fly on the wall seems a little too obvious, no?"

"Touche."

She huffs a final little laugh, and chances a carefully manicured hand to the side of my head, brushing a bit of hair off of my face. I hold completely and utterly still, biting down hard on my cheek. As she pulls away with an elegantly devious smile across her face, a few silver wisps of cobweb trail behind, woven messily into my curls at her touch. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and annabelle rests her hands daintily in front of her.

"Don't get too comfortable, love. Lest you forget we feed on fear?"

I swallow hard, and cannot find a response in time. Annabelle has already started out the door.

"You really should sleep, you know. Big day tomorrow."

This snaps me out of my frozen state. "Wait, what?" I call after her, the sound of her heels clicking through my apartment getting fainter as she leaves. I just KNOW she's smiling like the devious bastard she is. "What's tomorrow?? It's just Wednesday???"

The door clicks open, and then shut. She's gone.

"You're a real cryptic bitch sometimes!" I yell after her in vain, rolling over onto my side. I bring a hand to my forehead and grasp at the loose tendrils of web, combing them out of my hair and flicking them aside. I close my eyes, and soon enough, I am fast asleep.

[paxohana]

Menagerie, Pt. 7

The weekend had passed at a snail’s pace, but none slower than that day. Viktor’s father insisted he spent the majority of the day at the factory.  The day was filled with tediously boring meetings, placating the union’s grievances, and touring the factory floor.  While Viktor liked to mingle with the employees, he wanted the day to be over.

The night would be filled with time spent with Yuuri.

The young man had visited Viktor’s dreams countless times throughout the week, and while Viktor welcomed them, he hoped that most of them would come true.  He longed to touch Yuuri even if it was a gentle touch, he desperately wanted to indulge in the taste that was Yuuri through a kiss.  He knew he was overreacting and wondered if they would ever have a chance at more, but knew they wouldn’t unless the stars aligned on some deserted island.  A man could wish, he thought.

When the steam whistle sounded, marking the end of the day, Viktor grabbed his light jacket and raced toward the door.  He only planned on spending a brief time at home changing and freshening up before heading to the restaurant for dinner with Yuuri.  He was so looking forward to it that he barely missed mowing Clare over.

“Out already, Mr. Viktor?” she questioned.

“Yep, I have dinner with Yuuri tonight,” Viktor answered.

He had told Clare about their day in the slums and the evening under the willow tree. He relayed everything they chatted about and even the slight kiss to Yuuri’s forehead.  While Viktor thought he had overstepped his bounds, Clare thought that Yuuri might be welcome to the sweet gesture.  He hadn’t shoved him away, after all.

“Have a wonderful time, Viktor,” Clare said, smiling sweetly at him.

With a kiss to her cheek and a heartfelt hug, Viktor was on his way.

***

Yuuri, on the other hand, couldn’t believe how quickly the day had passed and he was thankful for it.  His father had given him a day off when Yuuri couldn’t figure out how to post a certain account’s books correctly. While it frustrated Yuuri to no end, he was glad he wouldn’t be high-strung that evening.

That evening he would be spending hours with Viktor.

The faint thrill raced through his body, the familiar feeling each time he thought of Viktor.  Yuuri had spent countless hours lying in bed or sitting on his balcony thinking of the man who caught his fancy.  He knew he shouldn’t entertain such thoughts, but Yuuri couldn’t help it.  He was the most intriguing, selfless, and gorgeous person he had ever met in his life thus far, and Yuuri didn’t think anyone could surpass Viktor.

Yuuri passed the time by reading a book he’d been meaning to finish.  He was too restless to finish the novel and went outside to stroll through his mother’s impressive garden.  All of her favorite flowers were in bloom, so Yuuri decided to pick a bouquet for her since he knew she wouldn’t have time to.  Ambling from plant to bush, Yuuri had an armful of flowers by the time he finished.  He decided it was enough and headed for their expansive kitchen.  Hiroko wasn’t home that afternoon, so Yuuri hastily arranged the flowers and placed them in a vase.  He knew that his mother would be pleasantly surprised when she returned home.

When the sun began its slow descent from the sky, Yuuri knew it was time to get ready.  He wanted to look sharp that night, so he had to decide upon something quickly lest he be tardy.  Flying through the outfits in his walk-in closet, Yuuri didn’t hear Mari come in.  After hitting her in the face with a shirt and her subsequent yell, Yuuri spun around on his heel and apologized to her sister.  Yuuri offered an explanation of why he was a nervous wreck, and Mari insisted on helping him find the perfect outfit.  Yuuri was relieved his sister helped him, choosing a cream long-sleeved shirt and a pair of cotton trousers.  He wanted to wear his straw hat, but Mari refused, saying it made the outfit look childish. Yuuri reluctantly agreed.

He dressed in record time and flew down the steps.  His mother had returned home and just finished setting the table when Yuuri went into the dining room and gave her a hug goodbye.

“Where are you off to, son?” she asked.

“I’m having dinner with Viktor tonight,” Yuuri replied, “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

“Have a fun time, dear,” Hiroko said, returning the hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I will, Mom,” he said, grinning at her, “I will.”

***

They arrived within minutes of each other.  Yuuri was waiting near a well-manicured hedge and grinned broadly when he saw Viktor.  Extending a hand in greeting, Yuuri felt a pleasant feeling run through him, growing stronger when Viktor clasped Yuuri’s hand with both of his.

“How has the remainder of your week been, Yuuri?” Viktor asked after the greetings were out of the way.

“It’s been good, but nothing as remarkable as tonight,” Yuuri said truthfully.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Viktor said, “Ready to go inside?”

Upon Yuuri’s nod, Viktor opened the door for him and placed his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back, guiding him toward the maitre’d stand.  When he realized what he had done, his hand flew back as if he was touching fire.  He looked around their surroundings, but no one had noticed his faux pas.

Sighing a breath of relief, Viktor chatted with Yuuri until the maitre’d seated them.  They thanked the gentleman for the glasses of lemon water before perusing the menu.  Yuuri had only eaten at the establishment once and asked Viktor what he normally chose.  When Viktor mentioned the prime rib, Yuuri thought it sounded mouthwatering.  He decided upon that while Viktor mentioned he’d like to try the salmon dish.  They placed their orders when the server arrived and Viktor ordered a bottle of wine, his knowledge of the beverage impressing Yuuri immensely.

“So,” Viktor began, resisting the urge to take Yuuri’s hand in his own, “What do you think?”

“This?”  Yuuri started, “This is amazing.  I’ve only been here once, but it was a business lunch with one of my father’s clients.  I didn’t really get to enjoy the occasion.”

“Then we must visit here more often,” Viktor stated.

“Oh no, I couldn’t!  It’s so expensive here,” Yuuri objected.

“Then it shall be a treat.  Allow me a small whim, my sweet Yuuri,” Viktor said, his fingers brushing against Yuuri’s knuckles before placing his hand in his lap.

Viktor loved the way the blush crept up Yuuri’s neck and rested upon his cheeks.  He had learned through the day that they spent at the slums that Yuuri was easily embarrassed and didn’t take compliments easily.  Viktor had an inkling that Yuuri didn’t react well to terms of endearment either.

“I’m...um...I’m not used to someone referring to me in such a favorable manner,” Yuuri said.

“Why not is beyond me,” Viktor said, “You should have all the pleasantries and sweet endearments showered upon you every day of your life.”

Yuuri gave him an embarrassed smile which Viktor thought precious.  He returned the smile, it growing broader when he saw the twinkling in Yuuri’s eyes. Only interrupted when their meals arrived, they set about eating.

“Mmm,” Yuuri said after swallowing the first bite of prime rib, “This is decadent.”

“It’s amazing, that’s for sure,” Viktor said, “Would you like to try a bite of my calamari?  It melts in your mouth.”

Yuuri nodded and tried to take the fork from Viktor’s hand, but Viktor held onto it firmly.  Stabbing a piece of the fish with the utensil, Viktor raised his hand and offered the calamari to him.  Yuuri’s eyes never left Viktor’s while he took the bite, his eyes closing while he was chewing.

“How can any place make meals so luscious?” Yuuri asked, smirking when Viktor laughed.

“Their chef is from France.  I’ve heard that he is one of the best in the world, Viktor declared.

“Quite impressive.”

They returned to their meals, chatting and sipping on their wine.  When they finished, Viktor asked Yuuri if he’d like to partake in dessert, but Yuuri was too full.  They made plans to visit again in the near future, though Yuuri made Viktor promise to let him pay that time.

They wandered around town talking about every subject under the sun.  They chatted about the presidential elections and how the man voted in would ruin the country.  Their conversation then went to the most prominent’s daughter having a child out of wedlock.  They felt bad for the young woman since she was the talk of the town.  Yuuri was more concerned that the baby had breathing problems after she had him, knowing that information since his mother helped with the birth.  He also mentioned the small wooden car he’d brought to the baby’s mother for when he grew a little more.  The woman had tears in her eyes from Yuuri’s kindness.

They found themselves at the willow tree again.  Yuuri was hesitant to sit since the dew had fallen and Viktor was wearing linen pants.  When Viktor sat on the ground without thinking, however, Yuuri followed suit and laid back onto the soft, dew-kissed grass.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Viktor said softly.

“I was thinking about how much I enjoyed tonight.  This has to be one of the best days of my life,” Yuuri admitted.

“I’m so happy you feel that way,” Viktor said, smiling at him.

Laying in silence as they listened to the spring frogs sing their nighttime song, Viktor and Yuuri simply enjoyed the other’s company.  It was growing late though, and Viktor needed to wake early the next morning.

“I have to return home shortly,” Viktor said.

“As do I.  My father has a busy day planned for me tomorrow,” Yuuri said.

Viktor sat up and nodded.  Yuuri followed and stood up, brushing the grass off his backside.  Viktor noticed and felt his temperature increase.  He found every single action that Yuuri did amazingly attractive, and he wanted it for himself alone.

“Would you like to go to the play that’s performing at the theater on Sunday?” Yuuri questioned, “My parents have an extra ticket.”

“I’d love to.”

Stepping closer to Yuuri, Viktor placed his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders before embracing him.  Yuuri’s breath hitched as he felt himself lost in Viktor’s embrace.  Feeling his body come to life, Yuuri held his breath and wrapped his arms around Viktor.  Hugging him tighter, Yuuri felt lost when Viktor released him.

“Until Saturday, my sweet Yuuri,” Viktor said, squeezing his shoulders once before leaving.

Yuuri was on cloud nine, he had ascended to the heavens.  The electricity that had rushed through his body when he felt Viktor’s body against his own hadn’t abated, and Yuuri wished it would last forever.  Feeling ever so hopeful, Yuuri glanced at the moon and made a wish.

“Please allow Viktor and I something more,” he whispered into the still night air.  

Closing his eyes tightly, he wanted the wish to come true more than anything in the world.  Knowing he had to go home, Yuuri turned around and descended the hill, his heart forever hopeful.

Talented artwork done by the amazing @princessmimoza​ !  Need to catch up? Check out Menagerie on Ao3!

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 14:  Positive or Negative?  Or Good News or Bad News and Who The Fuck Can Tell?

When you hear a gasp from lips that you’ve ONLY heard such a sound from during the most intimate moments two people can have, your mind goes there. First and foremost, you want to believe that it’s something good. That it’s a good thing that you hear this noise from that mouth during this moment.

But, considering the moment wasn’t one I was necessarily ready to experience, with him and his mouth or anyone else, I didn’t go to that place. Instead, I bit back my question of what the answer was, and wondered if it was a good gasp or a bad gasp. And then, because we both had very different ideas of what good or bad was in this particular situation, I couldn’t even take my eyes off the floor in front of me to try to see.

“Callie?” Negan’s voice was even closer than I’d expected, but ever stubborn, my eyes stayed down. “Baby, come on, let’s get back to the doctor.” Well, shit, that wasn’t exactly a yay or nay.

I walked beside him, trying to really work through what I wanted. Definitely him. That was easy. And maybe a baby, maybe. I mean it wasn’t like I didn’t have the experience from raising Judith this far, but this would be a different situation entirely. I’d have the little alien inside of me. And lest I forget, I could still see the aftermath of Judith’s birth. Of Mom’s death.

We made it back to the infirmary when I finally looked up. The doctor’s assistant was nowhere in sight, so that was a happy surprise. Getting whatever news from Negan and the doctor, I watched as Negan took the test to him and they quietly talked, without witnesses would be far better than sharing it with the entire Sanctuary. The doctor urged me back to the exam table and then, as I held my hands in my lap and Negan stood comfortingly beside me, he finally broke the news.

“Congratulations, it’s positive.” Of course it was, Satan always wanted to add to the family tree. “Now comes the fun part,” I looked up at him like he was batshit stupid and he chuckled. The fun part, I wanted to yell was what went into making the little demon, not this, trust me. “You’re going to have to prepare your body better. I’ll need some information about your mother and if you have further family history that will help too.” I nodded, feeling numb. And not a comfortable version of it. “Then I’ll give you prenatal vitamins and a bit of a meal plan, since you and Negan are-” at this he stumbled. Clearly he was used to WIVES and here I was, and what the fuck was he, and everyone else, supposed to call me and us? “Together,” safer probably, “he’ll make sure that you’re given what is necessary for a healthy pregnancy. And you and I will be seeing more of one another of course.” Yep, fun part. All the fucking way.

Negan’s hand found the small of my back and was rubbing what he imagined was soothing circles. I felt like crawling out of my skin at the contact. I didn’t blame him, truly I didn’t, but it was like the two of us had been FULL SPEED AHEAD since locking eyes on one another and I hadn’t really taken a fucking breath since the first kiss. I fought against shrugging it off, the contact, knowing he needed as much as he thought I did. As he rubbed, I gave the doctor all the information I could remember. I told him that Mom had given birth to me naturally, but that Carl had been bigger and so had Judith, I heard my voice break at the thought of Judith’s birth. Negan took over, and in a quiet voice told him what Carl had apparently shared about it, that my mom hadn’t survived. I offered as much as I could about my grandparents, telling them both that perhaps Dad had more information. Finally, the doctor handed me a huge bottle of vitamins, gave Negan what I imagined were helpful hints to keep your incubator in good repair and then we were released.

Negan seemed to understand that I was still processing. Our walk back to our rooms was quiet, no whistling, no banter. His hand did find mine, and I felt thankful for it, coming back to myself at least in that respect. The one that got comfort and a charge from his skin on mine, no matter how much or how simple.

He led the way into our rooms, his hand still in mine and then he reached for a walkie I didn’t notice. Giving orders for our food, for the entire day, I listened as I finally released his hand and took a seat on the sofa. His wasn’t as comfortable as the one in Alexandria, but it also didn’t try to eat me, so there was that. Once he finished barking orders, and telling everyone that he was to be interrupted only in the case of an emergency, and he meant emergency not some “idiots taking something from the fucking commissary outside their points quota”, he dropped the walkie and sat down beside me.

I finally looked at his face. The smile, the one I expected was definitely there, but there was a tightness in his eyes that I didn’t expect. I put the vitamins that I hadn’t realized I was still clutching down on the table in front of us and curled into his side. Maybe, just maybe this was a shock for both of us. I felt his arm curve around me, holding me to him as he kissed my head. I sighed, and he let out his own breath.

“How do you feel about this?” I whispered, almost scared to hear his answer. “Really and honestly?”

His other arm came around and using both he shifted me until I was straddling him and he could force me to face him fully. “Really? Honestly?” He bit his lip and locked his eyes on mine. “One part ‘holy shit this is fucking amazing’ and about four parts ‘holy fuck what am I going to do with a baby’.” I smiled as his lips met mine briefly. “I really want to go back to the hilarity I know is going to happen when we tell Rick, but shit, Callie, I never even knew that I COULD become a dad. And now, now I’m definitely fucking becoming a dad.”

I nodded, understanding a bit, except, “Why didn’t you think you could have children?” Curiosity, thy name is Callie Grimes.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That’s the part of that you pick up on?” He leaned back while I stayed upright. “I was told so, by doctors and specialists and a bunch of fucking quacks apparently before this fucking shit started. Sterile. That’s the word they used.” I squinted wondering how that could be. “I don’t know how this happened, but there’s definitely happiness here, Callie. I wasn’t lying on that porch, you made me want it, even if I thought it might be impossible.”

“Then why did you think I could be, if you didn’t think you could?” I wasn’t sure the question made sense, but I was trying to figure all of it out.

“You make me think any fucking thing is possible, Callie Grimes.” He answered, cupping my face with one hand. “That and the fact that you didn’t have a single break in the times that we were getting even slightly freaky deaky.” His eyebrows waggled at me and forced a giggle from me. “I don’t know why I thought it, honest to God, but fuck, I did. And then it took fucking root and it was ALL I could fucking think about. About the possibility and that you were still fucking there, and I was still fucking here, and all I wanted was you here with me. Baby or no baby.”

Jesus, just when I got what I thought was the most shocking fucking news of my life, he goes and tops it. I bit my lip thinking, and then his mouth met mine and I got to forget for a moment all of it. We pulled back, and I got my mind wrapped around what he’d said. Negan. Big Bad Wolf Negan. Was in fucking love with me. Without saying the words, he’d just fucking told me.

And then it started clicking inside me, little by little. The vision of him with Judith, the ease he had with her, the gentleness. How his eyes lit up when he was holding her, a different light clearly from when he held me, but still breathtaking. How he made sure that no matter what his mood was, when she was nearby, he kept his temper down, his voice low, careful to not scare her.

Hadn’t I basically raised Judith from the moment Mom died? Hadn’t I taken her from Maggie and made up my mind right then and there that she’d survive? Diapers, bottles, stories, and games. I’d made all of it work. Sure I had help, but I would have it here too.

Negan watched me, as I came to it on my own. Was the timing ideal? No, but we lived in a nightmare world of death and biting. What time was ideal? At least here, with him, I had medical care. I had a doctor who, hopefully, would be able to make sure that I didn’t follow the dark end that Mom had. And, I smiled, taking in the man holding me, I had Negan. He’d give up his kingdom to make sure I was safe and protected and loved. He had, in part, giving up the wives. Giving my people peace and security that they weren’t beholden to offer him half of anything.

“How do you feel about this?” He asked, still holding my face, still staring into my eyes. “Really and honestly?”

I smiled at him, leaning in to give him a long slow kiss. When I pulled away, his eyes were that same dark shade that I yearned for. “I think I’m coming around to the idea.” Vague, but he expected it by now. He barked a laugh, and then our lips met again, and until the first round of our meals showed up we got lost in one another.

[olboypacman]

Make Room

Raven's made peace with the idea of loving Beast Boy, but isn't sure of how to express or confess her feelings or if she should. She consults her mother during a visit to Azarath. Sister piece to 'Trigon the Benevolent.

****

A/N: I don’t own Teen Titans

****

A black-haired older woman lays down a plain white saucer with matching teacup, almost filled to the brim with warm herbal tea in front a purple-haired younger woman seated at a brown table. The young woman is dressed in black, long sleeved leotard, royal blue ruffled boots that reach ankle level and a gold belt with circular dark red gems embedded in it. There’s also a hooded cloak that matches her boots sitting over the back of the chair she’s seated in.

The older woman is dressed similarly to her younger counterpart, except her leotard, cloak and boots are colored white. She smiles fondly at the younger woman, which other than a little more roundness in her face, pale grey skin tone and larger eyes, is practically the splitting image of the older black-haired woman.

Older woman takes a seat directly across for the younger one, then starts to stir her own cup of tea.

“Boy trouble, dear?” Said the older woman before she took a sip. “I’m not really an expert on the subject, considering your father is the only man I’ve ever loved.”

The younger woman’s gaze is fixed to her tea, the cup being grasped by both of her hands. “It isn’t trouble exactly. I know I’m sure of my feelings. It’s more I’m terrified of what could happen if I confess.” The younger woman droned in a monotoned voice.

The older woman giggles, “Again, Raven. It’s not my area of expertise. Have you tried telling Garfield how you feel? Being straight forward with your father always worker for me.”

“Mother! It’s not that simple!”

The older woman giggles once more, “What’s the worst that can happen, dear Raven?”

It’s amazing, thinks Raven, Lady Arella, spiritual leader of our people, laughing at her daughter’s romantic plight.

The red faced, embarrassed Raven waits until her mother stops laughing.

“If I’m rejected, I could end the world, again.” Raven said dryly.

“Oh, stop!” Said Arella, waiving her hand at her daughter. “Do you think Garfield feels the same?”

“That’s the thing. I try not to pry on my friend’s feelings, like you and Azar had taught me, but some of them feel so strongly I can’t help but sense what they feel.” Said Raven, running her hand through her hair in frustration. “Occasionally, when he practically begs me to hang out with the team, I catch his eyes and a very strong, very brief feeling of something underneath his friendly affection for me before he breaks contact. I’d imagine he’d been taught to dull his emotions by Mento, lest they run into an enemy who can use it against him. But, it’s somewhat like the affection I feel from Starfire. It’s confusing. Does he feel affection for me like a close friend or sister like Kori? What is he hiding beyond his friendly affection for me?” Said Raven, looking away from her mother. Raven takes a long sip of her tea, then re-establishes eye contact with Arella. “When did you know you and father were in love with each other?”

Arella smiles brightly once more at Raven, “It wasn’t just one ‘aha’ moment. After he saved me from the Church of Blood, he arranged for me to stay with an ally of his. Even though Trigon wasn’t around all the time, he still checked up on me, talked with me. And at that point in my life I didn’t really care what happened to me after that betrayal by the Church of Blood. It didn’t matter that I was comfortable around him or that I honestly thought he was handsome. When I confronted him about why he was being nice to me, he said something to the effect of, ‘Speaking from experience, I can sense you need a friend.’” Her face takes a solemn expression, “I was lucky he reached out. I don’t know what would’ve become of me had he not. It was around then the dynamic between us started to change. I started being receptive to his friendliness, we spoke about everything in length. I guess when I really noticed I was feeling something for him was during one birthday.” Arella points to the jewel embedded in her forehead. “When I was a teenager, I got a fake a chakra stone put into my forehead. My foster father at the time didn’t take kindly to that and violently tore the piercing out, leaving a scar on my forehead. As a birthday gift, Trigon healed the scar and embedded a real chakra gem in its place. It actually awakened empathetic and magical potential. I remember smiling at him with tears in my eyes and that gesture made me realize my feelings for him. He would later admit that it was my smile that day that made him realize his feelings for me as well.” She finished with faraway look on her face, and a pink tint to her cheeks. “Much like how you described with Garfield, I occasionally catch your father watching me, not with eyes of something he wants, well, maybe with some want.” She laughs.

“Mom, you’re his peace, his rock. You keep him grounded when the emotional fragments become too much to bear.” Said Raven.

"We both are, Raven. Do you remember when Trigon showed you his memories, dear?”

Raven nods in the affirmative, recalling the somber memory of find out her father’s past.

“Your father’s love… It’s difficult to explain, but it's strong. Intoxicating even. It’s burning hot, like a white star and comforting like a secure embrace. Is that what you sense with your brief glimpses from Gar?”

The young half-demoness nods meekly.

Arella gets up from her seat across from Raven. When she reaches her daughter, she lays a kiss to Raven’s forehead. “Open your senses Raven. Have a little courage and tell Garfield how you feel. I have faith that you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

****

After consulting her mother, Raven teleported back to Titans Tower. More specifically in her room.

From there she decided to make her way to the tower’s kitchen area, having not had her fill of tea in Azarath.

The door to common/kitchen area hisses open and there’s nothing but the blare of television to greet her.

Beast Boy pokes his head up over the couch to see who’s graced him with their presence.

“Oh, it’s you Rae!” He said in surprise.

She read his emotions with her empathetic senses.

There it is, she thinks.

Like many other times before, right beneath his friendly affection for her.

Comforting like an embrace.

Hot as the hottest of stars.

And almost strong enough to get high on.

Love.

And just like that it’s gone.

“Uh, Raven? You OK?” Says the changeling having interrupted her realization.

“Huh?” She said embarrassed having been caught staring. “Sorry,” she mutters, pulling her hood up to hide her blushing face, “I must’ve spaced out. Where’s everyone?”

Beast Boy throws his arm over the back of the couch to hold himself up, having been lying down previously. “Dates,” said Beast Boy, a hint of sadness coming across his features, “Rob and Star are at the movies and Bee was in town and dragged Cy to grab a bite to eat. Seems everyone’s getting together these days, huh Rae?” He finished with a smile that didn’t quite reach his face.

She hums noncommittally as she makes her way to the cabinet to grab her kettle to warm some water for tea.

“Poor baby,” intoned Happy. “How much longer are we going to wait to confess? I can’t stand to see my Beasty so sad!”

With his feelings for her practically confirmed at this point, the empath racks her mind trying think of a way to confess without shattering all the windows in the tower.

While filling the kettle and putting on a flame on the stove, Raven’s interrupted by yet another one of her emotoclones.

“Remember what mother said, ‘have a little courage.’” Said Brave.

An idea pops into Raven’s head at Brave’s declaration.

“It’s just crazy enough to work,” said Knowledge.

“What if he isn’t receptive to it?” Said Timid.

“It has to! Who could deny what our Raven has planned!” intoned Affection.

With her plan in mind, Raven removes the kettle and pours the warm water into a waiting cup. She grabs two bags, throwing it into the cup, adds honey and takes a long sip.

“I’m going to need you, Brave,” she said quietly before polishing off her tea.

****

The resident verdant shapeshifter is lounging the plush black leather of the living room couch, hands behind his head, enjoying a binge session of Bob’s Burgers.

His enjoyment of the shenanigans of the Belcher family’s interrupted, as Raven steps in his line of sight.

“Hey Rae, what’s up?” He asked, not that he minded the view.

She stares down at him, determined look on her face. “Scooch,” she said simply, waving her hand.

“Wha?”

“Make room for me, Garfield.”

Gar motions to the couch, “Um, there’s plenty of room on the couch Rae. I’ll sit up to give you space, if you want.”

She hums once more. She then unclasps her cloak, throwing it toward the other end of the couch.

A blush comes over the face of the shapeshifter at the rare sight of Raven without her cloak, the changeling more than pleased at the sight of the empath’s shapely legs.

She cracks a rare smile at the changeling. “It’s fine,” she said simply.

Her next actions come as a great surprise Beast Boy.

She takes a seat on the edge of the couch, her rear touching his hip. She then swings herself around, laying her body on top of a half of his. She wraps an arm behind his neck, her other resting on his chest. She then entangles her legs with his, her right leg in between his, her knee falling just short of the most sensitive part of his anatomy. She wriggles around on top of him trying find a comfortable position. Once she finds comfort, she nuzzles his neck. Her lips are right by his pulse. If she had a mind to, she could…

“No can do, boss!” Yelled Happy. “That’s gonna take more courage and I hate to tell you, but this impromptu cuddle session took pretty much all we had.”

An image of her emotoclones standing over an unconscious Brave in Nevermore flashes in Raven’s mind. The emotoclone has a dopy grin on her face and her cheeks are flushed as her head is cradled in Affection’s lap, as the representation of love fans her off.

Thank, Brave, you did us good. And thank you mother. Thinks Raven.

“So, does this mean what I think it means?” Asks Beast Boy.

“Yes, it does, Gar.”

“Well, in that case…”

Raven releases a yelp in surprise as she’s repositioned by Garfield as he forcefully reconfigures their position.

Now, she’s sitting across his lap, her legs on the couch, arms wrapped around his neck as he’s sitting up regularly on the couch, her body pressed up to his.

“I think I might owe you a date, Raven.”

She laughs at her changeling’s declaration.

[smg4andbeetlejuicefanatic]

Taken For Granted

Just a little drabble based on thoughts/headcanons I had about @frappichuni‘s Bad Dolphin AU. You might need some tissues for this. >;)

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

George and Harold stood in the hallway during passing period watching the other students go on their merry way. Krupp and Edith were having a pleasant conversation nearby next to a window which the rain that fell outside could be seen. It was one of those days that seemed happy and gloomy at the same time.

“Hey Harold?” George turned to the curly blonde.

“Yeah?” Harold asked in return, playing a game on his phone.

“This is probably a weird question but.....do you love your sister?” George asked nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

Harold stopped playing his phone and looked up a bit with a confused expression. He then looked to the boy who’d turned lizard. “You’re asking me this why?” he said.

“Well, I was just thinking...” George began. Before he could continue, however, the sister in question appeared beside them; and she didn’t look happy.

Harold studied her angry expression. “What’s your problem?” he asked.

“No, I’m not having a good day. Thanks for caring enough to ask.” she answered, her tone sour.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harold asked again, now annoyed.

“It means that I’m having trouble making friends but my brother, the one friend I thought I had, doesn’t care one bit.” she answered again, crossing her arms and looking away from him.

“I never said that!” Harold exclaimed.

“You never said you do either!” Heidi responded.

“Maybe if you weren’t so angry all the time, I would!” Harold exclaimed again.

“See?! You don’t care about me!! You just admitted it!!!” Heidi shouted, pointing at her sibling. She felt her heart begin to break slowly.

“Name one reason why you should think that.” Harold stated seriously, crossing his own arms.

“When I was little, you promised me that you’d be my best friend forever.” Heidi started. “But then you met George and said the same thing to him. I don’t hate him, but ever since then, you’ve spent every minute of you’re life with him and acted like I was invisible.” she continued. “You broke your promise to me, Harold, and it still hurts to this day; but you never once bothered to ask me how I feel.” she added.

The girl tried hard to keep her smaragdine eyes from filling with tears, but a few still managed to appear.

“And another reason is because you abandoned me and mom!” Heidi continued to speak, resulting in an offended Harold.

“What?! No I didn’t!!” he shouted.

“YES YOU DID!!!” Heidi yelled back, gaining everyone’s attention. “YOU LEFT US TO LIVE WITH SOME STUPID SCIENTIST GUY!!!”

“HE’S NOT STUPID!!!” Harold began yelling as well. “HE’S THE ONLY DAD I’VE EVER HAD!!!”

“Will you two stop shouting?!” Krupp yelled from where he stood with Edith.

“NO!!!” both Hutchins kids yelled back.

“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HIM, HAROLD! AND BY THE LOOKS OF YOU IT DOESN’T SEEM LIKE HE’S A GOOD PARENT! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D CHOOSE THAT GUY OVER YOUR OWN FAMILY!!!” Heidi kept shouting.

SLAP!

Harold’s hand collided with the left side of her face, leaving a red mark.

Everyone gasped at the sight, but the fact that he’d just hurt his only sibling didn’t seem to phase Harold at all.

Heidi, shocked and stunned, placed her left hand on her cheek lightly; a stinging sensation rushing through that side of her face. This wasn’t the Harold she knew.

“MY DAD IS A GREAT PARENT! AND YOU KNOW WHAT?! MELVIN IS A BETTER SIBLING THAN YOU EVER WERE, BECAUSE UNLIKE YOU, HE ISN’T A LITTLE SELFISH ANNOYING BRAT!!!” It was Harold’s turn to yell, and the things he said weren’t nice. He gestured to Melvin upon his mention, which made the boy with the glasses nervous.

“This is why I never spent any time with you!” Harold’s voice got a little quieter, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out. “I WISH YOU WERE OUT OF MY LIFE!!!” Harold finally stopped after this, and everyone gasped again at this statement.

This sunk Heidi’s battleship, and the tears she fought so hard to keep from flowing suddenly exploded from her eyes like water from a dam that had just broke.

“WELL IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS IN IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!” she cried before running away from him. She rushed past everyone that had witnessed the event and past Edith and Krupp before running outside through the entrance doors into the rain; Krupp calling her name as she did, but she ignored him.

Everyone then turned to Harold, all showing their silent anger to him in their own way. Jessica and the Sophies had their arms crossed, Bo shook his head slowly, Gooch refused to look his direction--even Dressy looked like she wanted to punch him.

Krupp had his arms crossed as well and looked to be the angriest of all (which wasn’t really that surprising). Edith had that disappointed type of anger.

“I can’t believe you.” George murmured, just loud enough for Harold to hear.

“I’m going after her.” the lizard boy then stated, running on all fours toward the entrance. “I’ll come with you, you might need help.” Melvin replied, flying out the door with him.

They got to the street and stopped. “Which way did she go?” George asked, looking around worriedly. Melvin pointed when he spotted her. “She’s over there!” he exclaimed, and he and George took off in that direction.

Heidi was walking with her arms around herself when she heard Melvin’s voice, and started running again when she saw them coming towards her; not wanting to let them catch her lest they take her back to Harold.

Maybe if I go across the street, I’ll get further away. Heidi thought, and she decided to test that theory. Without looking back, she ran into the street.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE--

She didn’t get very far before a loud noise sounded from behind her.

In fear, she stopped and turned around, and her eyes met with a bright light as she heard George shout something.

CRASH!

The car couldn’t stop in time because of the slippery road, and she was hit; shattering the headlight that collided with her head and sending her tumbling a couple of feet.

Neither George or Melvin could move from shock. Both could only stare with wide eyes, and Melvin covered his mouth with both hands.

“I’m going to get Mr. Krupp!” he exclaimed, flying away as the lady that drove the car got out and frantically ran to the poor girl.

“George!”

George’s eyes widened even more when he heard a familiar voice in the distance.

“Krupp made me come after you guys.” Harold said as he got closer. “Did you find--...her?....” his voice trailed off as he looked to the scene in front of him, and George hung his head.

His good eye (the other has an eyepatch over it) widened when he saw his one and only sister lying motionless on the ground, and regret immediately started to build up inside him, and he had little visions of the past when the two of them were happy together; including the first time he held her after she was born.

“HEIDIIIIII!!!” he screamed her name as he ran over to her, tears now falling.

As he turned her over, held her in his arms; his hands getting cold from her rain-soaked pretty blue dress. Her curly strawberry blonde hair was also soaked (along with the blue bow she wore in it) and in the spot where she’d been hit were little shards of glass and a crimson stain that grew darker every second.

The tears that she cried still made streams down her face; as well as little droplets of blood.

Harold stared at this face, and felt his heart shatter. This face once bore smiles he loved to see.

And he ruined it.

He held her close and let out all his emotions. “I’M SORRY, HEIDI!!!” he screamed. “I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT!!! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!!” he continued through his sobs.

George sobbed quietly to himself. He’d always considered Heidi to be the sister he never had.

Melvin came back with Krupp, and he saw the scene, too. The principal went to talk to the lady, but Harold didn’t listen.

“I’m so sorry sis...” he whispered. “...I love you...”

All that could be heard now was the rain, Harold’s broken sobs, and the wailing siren of an ambulance in the near distance.

[sophiaigallo]

sophia i. gallo

‹ ARIANA GRANDE, SHE/HER, CISFEMALE, PANSEXUAL.  ›  SOPHIA GALLO is the TWENTY FOUR year old from BROOKLYN, NEW YORK. When a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ IF I DIE AT LEST IMMA LOOK RICH AS FUCK. ❞ They claim THE CONJURING is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would DIE AFTER THE ROOKIE MISTAKE OF HAVING SEX. Their fears include SUFFOCATION, FACELESS PEOPLE and COMPLETE DARKNESS, and they don’t know we know, but... SHE SAYS SHE JUST "OVER EXAGGERATES" HER STORIES BUT REALLY SHE'S A COMPULSIVE LIAR. Hope they enjoy their stay.  ‹  B from ADORE YOU penned by, LARK, 21+, GMT -6.  ›

—  i’m not just somebody’s daughter :

name : sophia isabelle gallo nicknames : phia, phi ( pronouced fee) age : twenty four birthday : november 4th zodiac : scorpio sun, scorpio moon, cancer rising gender : cisfemale sexuality : pansexual occupation : nail technician  positive : passionate, sensual, intense, competitive, dedicated, keeps it at 100, strong personality, perseveres to the end, intelligent, intuitive, logical, emotional, strategic, self-reliant, extreme, calm and steady on the surface, easily reads people, brave, wise, caring, loyal, keeps promises, charismatic, fierce in life and emotions. negative : hides intense and powerful emotions, aggressive, obstinate, intolerant, possessive, manipulative, jealous, resentful, intense self-reflection, hard to give forgiveness, prone to sexual power play. fears : suffocation ;  the idea of having a plastic bag wrapped around her face terrifies her. this fear doesn’t come from anything deep meaning but she’s been scared of it since she got yelled at as a child for playing with plastic grocery bags. faceless people ; people without faces and people facing away from her and just standing still really make her uneasy. she got this fear from when she watched the original blair witch movie. complete darkness ; she doesn’t like to be vulnerable and complete darkness makes her mind race of the possibilities and outcomes of her dying by a murderer. 

—  biography :

sophia grew up in brooklyn. her mother an aggressive alcoholic and a father that enabled her. it wasn’t an obvious thing for sophia at first. she had the ideal childhood even though she was born to teen parents. christmas, birthdays, and other holidays were a very big deal with her family. it wasn’t until she got older did she notice that her family wasn’t picture perfect. it was the small things. her mom forgot to pick her up a gymnastic practice, waking up before her mom, finding bottles hidden underneath bathroom sinks. sophia also questioned where her father was for days at a time and come home with luxurious gifts for sophia. one day he came home with a new iphone for her even though she had just gotten the new upgrade only four months earlier. this lead to sophia lying. she lied to her friends about how her mom was, what her dad’s job was -- she still isn’t sure. sophia started lying about small things, things that didn’t matter. if she had picked up bananas at the store for her mother, how she promised she didn’t get any lunch money to her school, how gymnastic practice was canceled, or that a relative died. this habit started around thirteen. 

the one thing sophia didn’t lie about was how good she was at dance and gymnastics. think maddie ziegler. she was well known around her area for being a solo dancer in competitions. when sophia was nearly 17 she tore her acl while dancing. it ruined her desire to be a professional dancer. while in rehab for her acl sophia became functionally addicted to pain pills. she also entered the party scene after her acl surgery and got a fake id at 18 and started attending clubs and bars regularly. she quickly got into a scene that could be very dangerous and her parents were not exactly happy about that -- rather her father wasn’t happy about that. her father expressed his feelings but once again sophia lied and lied and lied more and her father was preoccupied with his drunk wife and them fighting, that sophia’s partying lifestyle went unnoticed. at a party she met a boy named nova gallo. she fell in love instantly. the two were inseparable. they injected themselves into each others lives. where he was, she was and where she was, he was. it was quick and not just movie story quick, but quick. they knew each other for a total of three months before getting married. and now the two are at the manor for their honeymoon.  

—  personality :

If you were to describe sophia in two words, she would be intense and passionate. she is passionate about everything in life, right from her career to relationship, to hobbies to lovemaking; simply everything. she’s a very intense woman and it shows; take note of sophia’s eyes, as it is her one feature that usually stands out. her eyes are typically unique and hypnotizing. her cool, but, mesmerizing stare often indicates that she is interested in you; and is trying to dissect you. sophia is ambitious, hardworking, and is usually successful in her life. she has great leadership qualities ( hence being the managing nail tech at the salon she works at ) and loves ( and often craves for ) power. passionate, determination, will power, and hard work are the pillars for sophia’s personality. 

you’ll have to be a special person to gain her trust in order to be in her “inner circle.” as a friend, sophia is true, supportive, and very trustworthy. she keeps secrets and will not share them even with her partner. sophia is often perceived as being self-centered and cold, but she’s not. on the contrary, she cares a lot about her near and dear ones, ( which causes her realtionship with her parents to be rocky and she currently has them cut off ) and will go out-of-the-way to help and support them if she trusts them. it takes a long time for sophia to truly trust someone. sophia is also generous, fair, and just. she’s is social and will be a sport for adventures with her friends. despite knowing her for a long time, sophia still comes off as a mystery for some because of the wall she puts up but once that wall is down you’ll see the true sophia. although, her friends definitely appreciate her for her amazing personality and zest for life. her husband, nova, is also the luckiest person because he has the most beautiful, devoted, and encouraging wife, who will make him feel like the most desired person on the Earth.  

overall, sophia is exotic and magnetic, as deep as the sea, and, depending on her mood, as calm or as tempestuous. she is extraordinarily innate and is keenly interested in the esoteric, or any occult or spiritual experience that offers some kind of deep insight. sophia should never be taken lightly ( it’s offensive to her if she’s not taken seriously ). she isn’t flaky, fluffy, or a helpless creature by any means. sophia is direct and brilliantly sharp, she likes clear endings and beginnings, with no grey areas in between. sophia is intuitive, controlling, and sometimes self-destructive, fearless, and stubborn and even when life gets a little tricky she merely takes it on the chin and keeps going. self-confident, resourceful, and strong, she is driven to succeed; she works hard and is willing to sacrifice anything to get to her goals. sophia is such a complex person who is also secretive, choosing who they divulge their secrets to carefully and if you’re lucky, she’ll tell all to you.

—   wanted connections & facts :

someone she can call a friend in the manor. when she isn’t with nova ( her husband ) a person to explore and get into trouble with would be fun.

sophia knows a little bit about the manor and is excited about seeing some spooky stuff. it would be fun for sophia if someone else wants to search for spooky things.

she’s going to be attached at the hip with her new husband. its going to be annoying for some people and it would be interesting if there was someone(s) who just find her absolutely annoying when she’s with her husband but enjoys her when she’s on her own. maybe someone who disapproves of them being together because they feel like sophia’s such a different person outside the marriage. 

fact: sophia will be annoyingly clingly to her husband. it’s their honeymoon and they’ve only known each other for three months. her husband is nova ( @ofsurvivals​ )

fact: sophia is a scorpio and it shows. she’s actually a double scorpio and she’ll ask people their zodiac all the time. yes, she’s one of those. 

fact: sophia arrived to the manor late because of flight delays. ( this is mostly just an excuse for my awfully busy life and me being mia, pls forgive me. )

[szept-sosna]

hatred: clint barton x female reader

still no requests guys, c’mon! i want to write for y’all!

the tower was in complete and total chaos. usually it was quite calm, well as calm as can be for a group of superheroes with differing special abilities living in one space. today however, almost no one was doing what they usually did. steve wasn’t training with natasha and eventually getting his butt kicked. bucky and sam weren’t fighting. tony and bruce were not in the lab being science bros. thor was not trying to learn new things about earth and eating a crap ton of sugar. loki wasn’t being snarky or trying to trick anyone. wanda and vision were doing who knows what, and clint was actually doing what he usually did, sit in the avengers tower vent system, brooding and keeping a lookout for something interesting. there was nothing particularly interesting as today, everyone was freaking out, cleaning, clearing clutter, going through items they had no use for.

as one says, there’s a method to the madness, and in this instance there was a reason that all of the avengers were doing a sweep of the tower. tony had made the announcement last night that there would be a new recruit joining them, (y/n), a brilliant marksman and sharpshooter who had the ability to control metals and metal alloys. needless to say, clint was not pleased, and quite frankly, a little jealous. he was the one who was the sniper, the person who would always hit the target. he would not be upstaged by some little girl who he had never heard of before, and clint had heard of a lot of people. he didn’t understand why all of the tower had been thrown into cleaning mode. sure, the tower could use some cleaning anyway, they were superheroes, and quite possibly a little lazy when not on missions. but not wanting to give this girl the notion that he wanted to impress her, he refused to clean his room, and instead hid in the vents.

“clint!” natasha’s voice rang throughout the tower. “clint barton get your ass to the common area!” not one to get on natasha’s bad side, clint scurried through the vents and dropped gracefully from the ceiling.

“nice landing bird brain,” bucky said, looking at clint with a slight smile.

“thanks robo cop,” clint smirked back, joining the others in the small cluster that was forming by the door. he was not excited to meet this girl and to be honest, you could tell, he was wearing his signature scowl, arms crossed over his chest.

“sir, miss (y/n) has arrived,” JARVIS told tony. “doors are opening.”

“ah! (y/n), welcome to the tower sweetheart,” tony said, stepping forward, smiling at the girl who had just walked in.

clint rolled his eyes at tony’s fake politeness, but he still hadn’t gotten a good look at the girl, because he made the decision to stand behind thor, who was like 8ft tall and he couldn’t really see the new recruit. all he saw was a flash of (h/c) hair, and he heard a faint thump and a yelp from tony. clint, always excited to see tony get decked, peered out from behind thor to see tony pinned to the floor, arm pinned at an awkward angle behind his back.

“call me sweetheart again and those will be your last words stark,” clint heard (y/n) threaten. she got up, letting tony regain his balance, and looked at the other avengers, seeming to analyze each one of them.

it was then that clint really got a good look at this girl, and mother of god she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. her (e/c) eyes shone like gemstones in the light and she seemed to stand with an air of confidence and intimidation, that for some reason, clint found VERY attractive. her seemingly soft looking lips were barely pushed up into a small smile, and clint hated every single thought he had about kissing her, running his fingers through her hair, and staring at her gorgeous eyes in that moment.

“dude, you’re drooling. see something you like bird brain?” sam nudged clint with his elbow, smirking at the now flustered archer.

“no,” Clint huffed, turning away from falcon. “just assessing the competition, that’s all.”

“yeah, because staring at her, with your mouth open and literal hearts for eyes, is how you scope out competition,” sam replied, smirking at clint’s pathetic excuse. clint ignored the man, opting to face forward, watching (y/n) introduce herself.

“hello, i’m (y/n) (l/n), though you probably already knew that. i’m a sharpshooter who can control metal objects, and press have been calling me “zinc.” anything else you guys need to know?” she asked, looking around at everyone once more.

she locked eyes with natasha and wanda who both smiled at her, probably impressed that she had managed to take down tony within her first few minutes at the tower. clint however, was not impressed, or at least that was what he told himself.

“uh yeah,” steve spoke up, looking at tony who was rubbing his arm. “where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“oh, i was a SHIELD agent for a time and my mom worked for SHIELD as well. kinda grew up learning how to hold my own in a fist fight. i got teased a bunch growing up,” (y/n) explained, smiling at captain america, who nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. clint grumbled at her obvious attempt to suck up to the guy, but a tiny part of him wished that she would smile at him that way too.

“follow up question,” falcon said from beside clint, giving him a knowing look before asking, “how do you like your coffee?” clint nearly tackled the man before he heard (y/n)’s answer.

“the only proper way to drink it is black. black coffee, nothing in it, straight up black,” was what she said and this was when clint knew, he was a goner.

————————————

“i don’t understand why he hates me! i’ve done nothing to offend him!” you exclaimed, sitting next to wanda and natasha having some “girl talk” on the couch.

“i think he’s into you and doesn’t know how to go about it,” natasha replied calmly, sending you a knowing grin.

“no!” you exclaimed there’s no way he would like me back! he doesn’t talk to me, unless it’s to comment on my skills!”

“(y/n), you’ve been here for almost a year now, you seriously haven’t noticed? when you first walked in, i saw him staring, and clint doesn’t let his guard down that easily,” natasha argued.

“i felt his feelings that day,” wanda mentioned thoughtfully. “his positive emotions for you were radiating off of him.”

“i’m telling you guys, he’s not into me like that!” you yelled, trying to get them to see reason. clint just didn’t like you that way, and you were fine with that. “all i want is him to at least not insult me every day. i’d be content with friendship.”

“aww, little (y/n)’s crush doesn’t like her back,” tony teased as he walked in. “what did ya do, beat them up?”

“that was one time and you kind of deserved it,” you joked back. “you were being overly nice and it was sickening.”

“okay, you’re right. besides, i know for a fact that you know who found your murderous look very attractive,” tony winked at you and you blushed a very dark shade of red. it was then that the universe decided to screw you over and lo and behold, clint barton walked in, looking for a cup of coffee.

“if you’re looking for coffee, don’t bother, i just finished off the can, i put it on the shopping list,” you mentioned casually, hoping that he wouldn’t kill you.

“what?!” clint pivoted on his feet, glaring at you with rage radiating off of him.

“it’s not that big a deal clint,” you tried to placate him. “you already had like five cups earlier, but if you really need caffeine, you can finish mine.”

“ew, i’d rather share coffee with steve and he fills half the cup with milk! just keep the coffee metal mouth,” he sassed, turning to hole up in his room again.

“why do you hate me so much?” you questioned, your voice sounding slightly weaker than clint had ever heard in all the time he had known you. at your words, everyone awkwardly made excuses and walked away, leaving you and clint alone in the common area.

“why clint?” you asked again, your voice breaking. “you do nothing but insult me, call me names, and make fun of me. i thought that by being an avenger, people would like me but no, it’s like grade school all over again.”

when he didn’t respond, you sighed, turning away and letting the tears flow freely down your face. not wanting him to see you like this, lest he started calling you “crybaby.” before you even took a step you felt his hand grab your wrist and turn you around to face him.

“i don’t hate you (y/n),” he said taking your hands in his, staring down at them, not wanting to make eye contact, avoiding the tears he had caused. “i don’t hate you at all.”

“really?” you asked sniffling a little, hope leaking into your voice.

“yeah, i like you a lot actually,” he laughed at little. “like a lot a lot.”

“nat was right,” you whispered to yourself. clint heard an laughed a little awkwardly, dropping your hands to rub the back of his neck, finally meeting your eyes.

“nat was telling you about my crush huh?”

“yeah her and wanda both,” you admitted, kind of enjoying the blush that had spread across the archer’s face. “and tony, and sam, and steve, and bucky.”

“so you knew?” he asked a little sheepishly.

“oh i thought they were lying to me,” you admitted. “didn’t believe a word they said. didn’t think you would actually like me back.”

“why wouldn’t i?” clint laughed a little again. “you’re amazing. you’re strong and intelligent, and probably the sweetest person i’ve ever known, even though you’re deadly with those guns of yours. plus i think you’re really pretty.”

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked, a blush spreading on your face.

“that whole chain of compliments and that’s the one your remember,” clint teased. “but yeah, i do think your pretty. gorgeous, breathtaking, all of those words.”

“wow barton, you sure know how to butter a woman up. one would almost forget the fact that you spent the last 9 months insulting her!” you sassed, wearing a smirk that rivaled his.

“oh yeah,” he shuffled. “about that, i’m really sorry. at first i was jealous and just taking that out on you because i thought that you were going to replace me and then i saw how well you got along with the team and it just made that feeling worse. and then i started to notice little things that you did and it made me feel weird. all fluttery and sweet, and i didn’t know how to act around you so i just kept on pretending to hate you. i didn’t really mean it and i’m really sorry. i really want to make it up to you.”

“i know how you could,” you suggested, realizing how close the two of you had gotten throughout the conversation, and blushing a little bit.

“how?” clint asked. “i’ll do anything.”

“anything?” you smirked, biting your lower lip. “hmm, that sounds tempting.”

“well not anything, but most things,” clint corrected, suddenly staring at your mouth, seemingly entranced by it.

“well, how about you just kiss me and we’ll call it even? how’s that sound clint?” you suggested, emphasizing your use of his first name. clint realized he liked how you said his name, not his last name (though he like that too), but his first name. how each letter rolled off your tongue, and how you emphasized the “t” at the end.

“if you keep saying my name like that, we’ll be fine,” clint joked, though he was being completely serious, and leaning in ever so slightly.

“i think i can handle that, clint,” you smirked before you felt him surge forward, his mouth gently pressing to yours, hands cupping your cheeks.

his hands traveled to your waist with a sudden gentleness that made your heart melt, while yours went up to his hair, pulling a little. he seemed to like because he pulled you even closer, deepening the kiss. your lips felt like silk and clint was pretty sure this was what heaven was. he was pretty far gone and audibly whimpered when you pulled away.

“wow,” he breathed, staring into your (e/c) eyes before leaning in to kiss you again.

“hell yeah! get some barton!” you heard tony yell. clint growled against your lips, taking a hand off of your waist, and because it was clint, you could only assume he flipped tony off. you laughed, pulling away again.

“since you don’t hate me, do you want to go on a date with me sometime?” you asked, giving him another short kiss.

“i wouldn’t hate that,” clint said, smiling as he laced your fingers together.

no prompt for this one, but jesus it was long! requests are open and i really want to write for y’all. i write for the umbrella academy, most marvel characters (not x-men), harry potter and stranger things!! the few things i will not write are incest, pedophilia, and NSFW material. my asks are open so leave requests there!!!

you can find the prompt list here

[hitchell-mope]

First film. After the date. Ben’s room. He’s dancing about in a thick towel robe drying his hair. Radios on full blast. Ben’s singing along to bohemian rhapsody loudly. He isn’t noticing Doug standing the doorway looking thoroughly unimpressed

Ben: 🎶I’m just a small boy from a small family save me my life from this monstrosi🎶 AAAAAAAAAAH. Didn’t see you there. Hey.

Doug: I take it the date went well. (He passes Ben’s fish tank) hey goldenrod

Ben: ooh. Can you feed him please. I missed the last one and I don’t want him to die. He’s lasted ten years

Doug (under his breath): that’s because Mrs Potts keeps switching out the dead ones with new one every month

Ben: hm?

Doug: nothing. So how did your date go

Ben: it was amazing

Jay and Carlos’s room. Mal’s still soaked to the bone and her hairs dripping onto the carpet but she’s positively giddy

Mal: I almost died but I didn’t

Evie: why do you incessantly get my hopes up like that?

Carlos: I’m sorry you what

Jay (overprotective mode): I’m gonna kill him

Mal: no wait no no. No. I nearly drowned trying to save him because I thought he drowned.

Back in Ben’s room

Ben: she was trying to save me.

Doug: really?

Jay and Carlos’s room

Mal: yes really. I tried to save him.

Jay: but you can’t swim

Mal: I know

Ben’s room

Ben: the point is she tried to save me even though she couldn’t swim.

Jaylos’s room

Mal: I. I tried being a hero. And it felt good helping someone other then Carlos. Oh also

The kings room

Ben: there’s a chance I came out to her

Doug: how big a chance?

Ben: 100%

Doug: and

Jaylos’s room

Jay: you have a crush on Jane?

Mal: yeah I mean who wouldn’t.

Kings room

Doug: that’s good. But I still think

Ben: I know. I know. But you know how they’d take it. (He starts taking off his robe). Dad would start rabbiting on about propriety and how I have to make a respectable marriage to a princess “lest the sins of the male flesh overcome me” Cogsworth’s words not his. And mom. Oh god that prospect is even worse somehow. I do not want to have the talk with her. Lumiere covered that with me when I was 14.

Doug: I know. I was there

Ben (to Doug) and Mal (to Jay): sometimes I feel like you’re the only one I can talk to about these things

Doug and jay: I’m always gonna be here. I promise

Ben and Mal: thank you.

Ben (snapping out of his self worry): but enough about me. What can I do you for

Jaylos’s room. Evie’s in a bright mint green sixties style dress.

Evie: how do I look

Mal, Jay and Carlos: with your eyes E

Evie: oh ha ha. Seriously though. Do I look contrite and apologetic

Carlos: why?

Evie: because I’m going to find Doug and apologise for not believing him about chad

Jay: if I were you I’d take protective headgear

Carlos: he’s not gonna hurt her. Do you see way he looks at her?

Mal: I’d hit her

Evie: because your a vindictive cruel bitch that’s wearing Ben’s shir...why are you wearing Ben’s shirt?

Mal: relax “mom” it’s a duplicate.

Jay (with a gleam): and?

Carlos: hey Mal. Do I wanna hear what you have to say next?

Mal: probably not.

Carlos: its time for his highnesses walk anyway. Cmon sweetie

(He carries Dude our if the room)

Jay: I don’t think that dogs feet have touched the floor since it started living here

Mal: I know. It’s endearing but at the same time a little creepy.

Evie: awww look at it this way Mal. You have a grandson now and jay has a stepson

Mal: I swear to you. I WILL start complimenting chad.

Evie (getting a deer-in-the-headlights expression): ok I’ll shut up.

Jay: we’re on the details I care about now. Evie get the ice cream. We have a long night ahead of us.

Ben’s room. He’s just noticed Doug’s looking very intently at the ceiling. It’s only then he realises he’s only in underwear and socks

Ben: SHIT. SORRY. I forgot. Sorry.

Doug (still looking at the ceiling): don’t worry. I’m just admiring the dragon nightlight stickers. Do they still work?

Ben (putting a pair of slacks on): I think one still does. It’s nice and eerie and it AHHHH

There’s a crash and a squelch. Doug looks down to see Ben tripped on the pants leg and fell to the ground

Doug: Oh shit. (He helps Ben up) you ok?

Ben: yep nothing wounded. Oh man

Doug: what

Ben: I must have landed on the breakfast burrito I forgot to eat this morning. Ooh it’s still warm.

Doug (slightly sickened): uhhhh

(Ben looks at him innocently)

Ben: yes?

Doug: nothing. Um the reason I came here was because your ex is in my room with the wannabe Casanova

Ben (not knowing that chad essentially ghosted her): aw. Poor Evie.

Doug: well you know he’s a bastard and please get out of those damn pants.

Ben (looking like a sad puppy): hm

Doug: I have this thing. I I have this thing. I am, retentive. I like things to be clean. You are my best friend in fact you are probably the only guy in the school I don’t have a burning hatred for. You are. You’re my best friend. And yeah. You outrank me but I cannot, and I mean I PHYSICALLY cannot have a conversation with you when you have an almost 24 hour old still warm uneaten breakfast burrito stuck to yoUR LEFT ASS CHEEK.

(Ben looks like he’s about to cry but then he bursts into laughter)

Ben: sorry. I forgot

Doug: stop apologising. I. I shouldn’t have yelled. Your the prince. I’m not. You have the authority in this room

Ben: but you’re gonna be my advisor. It’ll be your job to slap me when I’m being an asshole.

Doug: I. I can’t bring myself to slap you

Jaylos’s room

Evie: don’t be crude jay

Jay: that wasn’t crude you wanna hear crude? Then alright. Mal if he looks like what I imagine he looks like under those suits then you need to get out there and d

Evie: develop! An honest emotional connection with him

Mal: yeah jay. You’re my best friend. I respect you. I admire you. But right here, right now. I think I should listen to her.

Evie: HA!

Mal: that said I think you’re wrong E.

Evie: heh?!?!?!?!

Ben’s room

Doug: the love rat and Audrey are gonna be there the entire night. Can I stay here. Please?

Ben: of course (He starts putting in emerald green slacks and a thin mottled purple and black cashmere sweater) as long as you need. I can take the floor

Doug: you realise there’s been a camp bed in your closet since we were ten?

Ben: ok then I can take the camp bed

Jay’s room

Evie: how the hell am I wrong this time

Mal: if Doug actually cares about you then you could rock up in a dress made out of jay’s month old gym socks and he’d forgive you. If he doesn’t. Then. He ain’t worth it.

Evie: ok

(She leaves for Doug’s room)

Doug (helping Ben set up the camp bed) and Mal: I have a confession to make

Jay (who’s digging into a pint of rum and raisin Haagen Dazs) and Ben: yeah

Doug: I may have set you up

Mal: I think Doug set us up

Ben and jay: what.

Doug: Don’t get me wrong. Mal’s awesome and I’m glad you’re happy

Jay’s room

Mal: I’m a villain. Who he knows was sent here to bring down the kingdom

Ben’s room

Doug: I wanted to make sure that Mal was t trying to use you just to get the wand. So I suggested the enchanted lake. If you swam and came back happy. She’s genuine. If you swam and cane back pissed.

Jay’s room

Mal: We’d be sent back to the island

Ben and Jay: Oh

(They both start laughing. Ben drops his side of the camp bed on Doug’s foot)

Jay’s room

Jay: oh ho ho. I like that guy.

Mal: why are you laughing?

Jay: cause it’s what I would do. It’s what Evie would do. It’s what Carlos would do. It’s what you would do. It’s shrewd manipulative underhanded villain thinking

Ben’s room

Doug (feeling the weight of the bed on his foot. High strained voice): so your not mad?

Ben (still laughing): no. You did it to protect me. (He stops laughing and puts his weight on the bed. Still warm and friendly) please don’t do it again though. If you do this again I’m sorry but you won’t be allowed in my room and chad will be my advisor

Doug (in more then a little pain now): I completely understand.

Ben (immmediatly picking up his end of the bed): let me get some ice for that foot

Doug (relieved): thank you.

They set the bed down and Ben goes to his mini fridge

Ben: hey um. Did you by any chance see the uhh

Doug: floor to ceiling autographed poster you have admiral Hawkins?

Ben: yeah?

Doug: would me saying that I did make me be kicked out of here?

Ben: why would it. Then you’d be telling the truth. If you said no and you had seen it then you’d be lying.

Doug: then yes I saw it. It’s pretty hard not to. Personally I think it’s cute you still admire him.

Ben (both relieved and slightly embarrassed): I’ll be getting that ice now

Doug: thank you

Outside Doug and chads room. Evie, still wearing the mint green dress, knocks excitedly not the door. Audrey answers it in a lurid pastel pink summer dress.

Audrey: yes?

Evie: where’s Doug?

Audrey: hmmmm. Don’t know. Don’t care. Now please leave. I’m on a date with my new boyfriend. Seeing as that thing you share a room with stole Ben from me

Evie: hey! Mal may be a bitch but she is not a “that”. And she is far. FAR. More powerful then you. Or have you forgotten what her mother did to yours?

Audrey (rightfully worried): she wouldn’t do anything to me. Ben would never forgive her.

Evie: true. True. But. Jay and I have no such obligation to Ben. And combined. We could bring this whole school down if you mess with any of us. Understood?

Audrey: yes.

Evie: yes what? Cmon. You know the word. P p p prin...?

Audrey: princess?

Evie: go on. Almost there (sickly sweet smile)

Audrey: princess Evie?

Evie: that’s a good mortal.

Audrey: why do you stick up for her. You hate each other

Evie: because she bitchy mean vindictive and dismissive of everything I take a interest in. And she’s the closest thing I have to a sister. She’s family. And she’s allowed to be all that after what I did to her

Audrey: what did you do?

Evie (smiling): none of your concern. But I will tell you how I curried their favour. I stabbed a maniac in the leg to save Carlos three years ago. Now jay won’t let me get hurt and Mal has no choice but to let me be lest she makes Carlos upset. I’m veritably untouchable. Especially against the likes of you

Chad (arriving with two full plastic bottles): they didn’t have grape so I got limeade-oh um move your in my way

(Evie takes a bottle from him whaps him around the head with it then pours their entire contents on him)

Evie: I’m case you’ve forgotten. My name is Evie.

She stalks off in search of Doug

[sithlordintraining]

Sword-Crossed Lovers

A/N: Thanks for trusting me, love! I didn’t want it to be like Midnight Special so I didn’t do an academic competition. Hope you enjoy!! I used this scene.

“ @greyjediism : Hey! Could I request reader and Ben at first don’t like each other at first cause they’re competing for like a cause competition or something but later on they have to work with each other or in a group project and end up learning about each other and slowly falling for each other? If this doesn’t make sense don’t feel pressured to write it. Thank you anyway though!❣️“

“Oh no!” Y/N gasped. “What?” Your friend, Jill, turned to you. You screeched as your eyes searched the paper for a mistake. “It’s Ben Solo. I have to compete against Ben Solo” The palm of your hand flew to your face. Ben Solo was the popular kid who was smart, rich, athletic, talented, “Terribly hot,” Jill said. “And a major asshole.” You rebutted. The two friends began to make their way to English. “I can’t believe I have to compete for the captain of the drama club. Mr. Kinby told me I was a shoe-in to lead!” You exclaimed. “And now Ben Solo walks in here and takes his shirt off in one scene and now he’s the next Adam Driver!” You groaned. Jill just chuckled. “I mean his body is pretty impressive.” You lightly pushed her. “Thank you, Jill.” Ben’s voice caused the two girls to look up at the tall hunk, peering over his angular nose and a smirk. You rolled your eyes and tried to walk past him but he cut in front of you. “Woah, where are you going? I wanted to talk to you about the play I want to do for the annual since I’m pretty sure you’ll be second in command.” Ben told you. “Excuse me, no. And if anyone is choosing it, it’s me!” You pointed to yourself. “Yeah, and what would you choose Grease?” Ben teased. Ben moved from Chandrila and he thought he was better than everyone here. Sucking your teeth, you turned on your heels. “I’m talking to Mr. Kinby.” Quickly, Ben followed you and in no time was ahead of you. “Oh no,” You yelled as you broke out into a sprint to beat him there. “MR. KINBY!” The teens yelled as the man turned. “Ah, my two stars.” He asked and Y/N shook her head. “Mr. Kinby, I should be captain.” The teacher was surprised by your words. “Oh, how convincing!” Ben mused. A quarrel began to form as Ben and Y/N went back and forth. “Well, I am the wrong one to be pitching to. This will be picked among your peers.” Mr. Kinby explained. “Each week you guys will present a monologue proving that you will make a good captain. It can be solo or you can use your friends, but by the end of the month they will decide.” As he spoke, the wheels began to turn inside their heads of what they were going to do to secure their position as captain. After their talk with Mr. Kinby, the two teens left the theater but just before they parted ways Ben called out for her. Turning, you saw him smirk. “Good luck.” You groaned and sped off to class.

The next few weeks almost seemed like torture as Y/N and Ben when head to head. It almost seemed that each week there was a tie between them and it was hell. While you were the obvious choice, due to the versatility you provided in each of your performances everyone enjoyed, there was Ben who provided more edgy and forceful, and since there were a lot more girls in the group they very much enjoyed his intensity. “So how’s it going?” Jill asked you. “Urgh, it’s hell! We are tied and the only reason we are tied is that he’s hot!” You told her. “Well, finally you admit it. I mean I know you’re a good actress but don’t act like he’s not good looking.” Jill said. You weren’t blind to the fact that he was hot, but you wouldn’t let that deter you away from being captain. You worked so hard, you deserved this. It was the last week, the last monologue, and you were ready to secure your spot. Jill walked you to the theater to see a hoard of girls surrounding Ben. “Well good luck.” Jill hugged you. “Thanks.” You hugged back before walking in. “Ok everybody, this is our last week for everyone to make their final decision.” Mr. Kinby explained to the class as the two candidates stood behind him with arms crossed. “So we will let Ben go first since Y/N decided last time.” He stepped aside and let Ben speak. “I’ve decided to do Romeo and Juliet.” All the girls gasped, just the thought of being Ben’s Juliet had them fawning. Ben smirked as he turned to see you scoffing. “And I would like Y/N to be my Juliet.” Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. He was not serious, the most basic play known to man, sorry Shakespeare. Y/N went to object, but Mr. Kinby was booming. “Perfect Ben! What a way to see the two of you within a scene, we will really get to see your capacity.” Ben had a shit-eating grin as the teacher commend him. “You’re welcome, Mr. Kinby. I won’t let you down.” He smiled at you once more and it made you want to scream.

Ben offered up his house to practice and not too much of your surprise it was huge. “Come in,” He opened the door and you followed him in the large house with high ceilings. “I hope you don’t mind practicing in the backyard.” He said and you shook your head. Just then an older man walked in. “Oh Ben, I didn’t know you were having company.” He smiled politely at me. “I’m Luke,” He extended his hand. “Y/N, beautiful home you have.” You smiled. “Thank you. If you need me, I’ll be in the office.” He said excusing himself. They walked into the backyard that looked more like a park. “Wow, your dad must have a good job.” She said. “That’s not my dad.” Ben shook his head. “He’s my uncle, I live with him.” He gave you a short smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m...sorry.” You said quickly as they remained silent until reaching a bench. “So what scene are you thinking?” You asked nervously, praying it wasn’t “Act 1, scene 5,” Those words left his lips and you cringed. Of course, he would pick that scene. “Of course,” You smiled sarcastically snatching the script from out his hand. Ben had to pick something that knocked you out of the lead; there were only so many times he could take off his shirt. And he would be lying if he said you weren’t talented, it’s just that he was too. If anyone else was watching, they would’ve told you it was less star-crossed lovers and more sword-crossed. “I-This is going to be a mess!” You exclaimed, throwing the script down. “We’ve been at it almost every day and we are making no progress; we can hardly get past the first ten lines! We need a break or some type of revelation!” Your hands flew up as you began to walk away. Even though Ben’s plan to mess you up was working, it wouldn’t look good on him either. “D-Do you want to walk?” Ben stuttered out. Pausing, you weren’t completely sure if you had heard him correctly, or stutter for that fact. Looking at Ben, you never realized how soft his eyes were, “Ok,” you nodded and followed him.

The two walked in silence down the trail behind the houses. It was pretty uncomfortable, well at least for you. “So...how are you liking Ach-to?” Y/N asked. He glanced at you with mild confusion; this was the first time you talked to him without being mean. “It’s...small, nice, okay.” Three words that weren’t the best, but you had to admit it fit it. A giggle left your lips that had Ben looking at you once again. “Is anyone in your family into acting?” You asked. But he shook his head. “No, I’m more like the outcast.” “Oh,” Y/N internally cursed herself. Ben could see that she was trying to make nice and decided it would hurt to actually make one. He knew that everyone he hung it wasn’t genuine. “How about you?”He asked. “No, I mean we are very musically-oriented family: musicians, singers, and dancers. But no actors.” You shook your head. “Until now,” Ben noticed the way you bit your lip to hide the small smile, but the visible dimple on your cheek told otherwise. “W-What got you into acting?” You were surprised that he wanted to know, even if it was just for awkward small talk. “My aunt actually. My cousins and I did our own version of ‘The Wizard of Oz’” You chuckled thinking back. “Who were you, Dorothy?” “No, the tin man.” You froze and began to do your impersonation as Ben watched with amusement. “That was very impressive.” He clapped. “Thank you,” You bowed. “What about you?” Ben pondered the question trying to remember the exact moment. “When I was eight, my parents took me to see the Phantom of the Opera and I’ve been hooked ever since.” Ben turned to see you wearing a smirk. “What?” “I didn’t think you would pink something so classic, I was expecting something crazy like ‘Ecstasy’!” You told him and his brows lifted before his eyes narrowed. “What do you know about ‘Ecstasy’?” “I like Hedy Lamarr.” You shrugged. “Is that your favorite actress?” He asked. “Of that time? No, I like Lauren Bacall. Who’s your favorite actor?” You asked as he nervously chuckled. “Humphrey Bogart.” Your (y/e/c) eyes peered up at him. It was weird that the two people they liked, were married. Shaking it off, you suggested practicing while on your way back. Carefully they began to say their lines; Y/N walked along the edge of a small tree stump as Ben paced back and forth. “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray’r.” You said. “O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, they pray—grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,” Ben replied. You were so focused on the stump you didn’t even realize it was your time to speak. “Y/N!” The call of your name startled you causing you to fall. Ben quickly rushed over, arms tightly locking around your waist. Your heart was beating fast and you were pretty sure it was because of what just happened and not because of the way Ben was looking at you. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded as he slowly settled you down to the ground, arms still around you. If your phone didn’t ring, you didn’t know how long you would’ve stayed in his arms. “Oh, my mom’s here. I gotta go.”

After that, Ben couldn’t get you out his mind. Sometimes at school, he’d find himself thinking about you. During rehearsals, he would try to sway it to learning more about you or just talking to you period. And what drove him crazy was your lips. Stars, your lips were so cute, full, and looked so soft and the fact that he had to kiss you made him thankful for choosing Romeo and Juliet, even if it was supposed to drive you crazy. You would think it would be nothing, he did many of fake kisses. But the way his heart raced and palms sweat every time the lines for the kiss grew near, it wasn’t just acting. He had fallen for you and every time they went for it, something would happen. And now it was the day that determined their fate. Everyone was waiting to see what would be such an iconic scene, Jill and few other non-drama folks snuck in to watch. Ben watched you talking to a few people as he prayed that he wouldn’t get caught up with his lines. “You ready?” He blinked not realizing that you were now in front of him. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Hopefully the kiss isn’t awkward since we didn’t get to practice it.” You said and he just stammered another yeah. “Well,” You nodded as you waited for Mr. Kinby to cue you guys. It was going well, not to your surprise but Ben’s. Your eyes just sparkled wildly as he stared into them; such innocent yet curious eyes that conveyed the scene. It felt so intimate it didn’t even feel like they were on stage being watched by a room full of people. Each word that past your lips had a smile tugging at his lips for he felt that he was really Romeo. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” The corner of your lips tugged up slightly. “Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.” Ben took a step, large figure looming over you, noses touching. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg’d.” His voice was low and seem to rumble throughout the theater. And then it happened; his pinks lip captured yours, he felt her suck in a breath before she kissed back and it was better than he imagined. You pulled back to deliver your line “Then have my-” But Ben’s large hands gripped your face and pulled you back into another kiss. You were stunned and confused before kissing him back. The kiss was slow and passionate as he sucked on your bottom lip. All the non-drama students began to catcall and Mr. Kinby immediately stopped it. When they parted, Ben’s honey eyes searched yours before turning to the teacher. “I’m sorry, I-” His eyes fell on you again. “I really like you Y/N.” You were shocked at his confession. “Like a lot and I like being around you and talking to you and you’re a great actress.” He said breathlessly. “I’d die happy if you’d be my Juliet” You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips at his corny sentence, before pecking him. “My Romeo,”

P.S.: This is kinda cute, I might submit this.

[leavangeline]

2018-2019 Short Story

Prologue

It never crossed my mind on what jail would be like, nor how tight handcuffs would be. I reckon, when truly contemplating it, jail is timeout for adults. I hadn’t been in timeout for a while, until I snapped. There was only a short period of time in my life when my family was ‘perfect’, and I was happy, even though that was a lie. Some might think ‘too bad his family wasn’t better at lying, too bad the lie didn’t last longer’. They probably believe that withholding the truth could’ve prevented his demise, therefore impeding my incarceration. But I disagree. I’m glad I found out, I’m so very glad the awfulness dawned on me. Although I do regret the substantial bulk of hours that had passed before I retaliated. I supposed my vexation had to fester, crescendo right alongside my swelling courage. It happened quickly, but in retrospect it was agonizingly slow. The truth slapped me in the face everytime I turned my head, and kept my mouth shut. If I had an audience in the abrupt instant I shifted, blanked, surrendered my soul to my rage, I imagine their faces would’ve been stoic; silently watching the brutal scene unfold in slow motion, like a movie. And they would’ve been beholding the serving of justice. They’d have expected this outcome, long awaited it’s arrival. They would then ogle at their action hero; me. However, I had no adoring audience, lest my screaming mother was included. I remember my consequence clear, including all the gruesome details. First, I felt anger that made satan nod in approval. Next, I bashed his head in again and again, feeling his bones crack under the force of my bare fists,commencing a bloody leakage. I wrecked his face. That was entertaining. But I must confess that when I forced him to chant ‘sorry’, over, and over again, having him scream his apologies then letting him know they’ll never be enough, was certainly my favorite gift from the entire ordeal.

I will get out. I will not succumb again, and I will not fold onto violence, I had promised. Tis truly sad how some people make promises without ever the intent of keeping them. I, however, had every desire to see my words to fruition. But in truth, sustaining the livelihood I had been released to was near impossible. I had gotten out, I had been a free man. I was a man so free that the wild winds, and whims of liberty overwhelmed, and consumed me. I did not surrender rationale, and civil conduct for a brief redolent of brutality. Rather I disposed of my own autonomy to return… home. After many years stationed in such a distinct environment, naturally I became accustomed to the predictable and consequently familiar routine. I was comfortable there, prison, my unconventional home. When I tried to create somewhere else for myself, somewhere ‘real’, I was troubled, having to face trial after tribulation. Reuniting with my mother was worse than expected. I knew she hated me, evidence being all my declined calls, unread letters, empty visiting chairs, and rejected feelings. But experiencing her loathe directly became one of few regretful moments in my life. The depth at which I was unwelcome in my mother's line of sight had me feeling desolate. Such bleak emotions brought me to the bane of human existence - self reflection. Following my self imposed, miserable, roller coaster ride, I realized some important things. I cannot change the past, and to hold resentment against me for my actions, after so much time serves no good. I may not have family on the outside, but I certainly have people inside who who look out for me. People who care for me, and who I might dare to call family, of some sort. This ‘real world’  belittles me at every turn. I’m mistaken for the young boy that committed heinous crimes. There is no room for growth when preconceived judgements cling to who I am today, and who I’ll be tomorrow. To rise above, subvert expectations, prove them wrong, is a herculean task. Their bias is rooted strongly in fact of what I have done, so for I to say their weariness is unwarranted would be untrue. Yet beyond their rightful prejudice lies unkind actions. When they talked behind my back, and sneered at me. Most distressing behavior is the lack of respect; how getting an interview for a minimum wage job is unusually difficult. In the ‘real’ world success is placed so far out of my grasp. What was I meant to do? No family, no job, no home; I hadn’t a real shot at life.

In Prison ...

I had worked my way up ranks to a respectable position. I wasn’t going to be a victim of extortion because I had a strong reputation. When provoked I fight back, but you don’t want to fight me because then you won’t be getting any good commissary. I had connections that sold tobacco, and connections to gangs. In prison, I had to hustle. After a while, I had managed to get a good footing there. Dare I say I managed to not only survive, but thrive.

Getting A Job

Consecutively I apply to numerous businesses. I turn up for interview upon interview. Yet each employer turns me down. Whether the few tattoos I possess are on display, or hidden, makes no difference to the outcome of my efforts. No-one wants to hear how I’m a changed man, ready to get my life right; No-one believes it either. Having been convicted of a crime, it seems I’m still paying the price. I refuse to give up. I’m not a quitter and I know there is job out there for me; I just have to find it.

Meeting My Mother

I lightly press my finger to the old, yellow doorbell before the entrance of my mother's home. As the familiar jingle rings, I straighten my jacket one final time before facing the past. I hear loud footsteps approaching the door, and the anticipation is torturous. I listen for the calming tune of chirping birds that had welcomed me back, but they cease to sing as the heavy brown door is swung open. There she is. As...old as ever? Her once dark black hair is now sprinkled with grays. Her face sags, and as her eyes settle over me, recognition washes over her features; then consequently her expression deepens. Gravity pulls her aging face farther and farther into her frown. Precariously she stumbles back, receding into her home. I step forward to catch her if she were to collapse, but am met with an outstretched arm. Palm facing me, saying halt. However she didn’t say halt, she yelled “No!” I too begin to fall. My smile and joy diminish. Replaced with confusion. “Mom, it’s me -”  “NO!” She screams at my face.  “No?” I whisper in the dumb of the wind. My mother hurts me, “No. You are not my son. I want you out. Leave, get out. Get out now. You’re disgraceful, you’re disgusting. You’re a killer. I hate you.” She pushes me back outside, when I had hardly taken a step in. She shoves and she yells. “I can’t even look at you!” She spits. I walk down the concrete steps of my mother's house. She continues to rage, “You are appalling!” My chest is heavy with sadness, but I don’t cry. I walk away from my childhood home. I walk away from my mother's incessant screams. Soon, I’m running. I’m running through the streets of this no-good world; my mother's words echo in my brain. “You’re horrible. You’re not my son, and I hate you.”

Self Reflection

The pair of my own brown eyes stared back at me through the foggy reflection of my bathroom mirror. “You’re horrible”. Never had I ever before felt so revolted by what I saw; entirely disgusted by the man in the mirror. I felt lonely, regretful, and most of all vile. “You’re horrible”. Embarrassed of not only my behavior, but myself as a living being. How could I? How could I do such things, I despaired. “You’re horrible”. My gaze shifted to the left then to the right with my turning head. Entirely appalled, and unable to watch myself any longer, my resolve crumbles, and my eyes waterfall as I walk away from my reflection. I’m horrible, I think. I don’t like me, I think. I don’t love me, I correct. I don’t wanna be me; I don’t wanna be him, I concede.

Invitation

He seemed a little disappointed, officer Leben. He said I shouldn't have screwed my life up again, but his slight smile told me he was glad to see me. And for the first time ever, I was glad to see him too.

[throughtheglassdarkly]

Scorched Earth, part 6.2

The next morning, the mood was somber around camp. Amberleigh had sent a scout ahead to report back when Scáthach had left her keep. Naturally, this was at the absolute ass-crack of dawn and we all got shaken awake and had to get everything together all at once. We’d all been given basic leather armor but the other equipment was getting doled out. As you might imagine, this wasn’t going as smoothly as possible (step one, check). Unfortunately, this was also causing a good number of grunts (I won’t say it was mostly Day, but it was at least 47% Day) to get agitated and start fighting over the equipment. I decided discretion was the better part of valor and stayed with Bella to get camp packed up, but Pam and Yova both went over to investigate.

The overall fighting was due to people getting testy over thinking they had more stuff available to them and bickering over who got access to the bigger, smashier things. There were also some concerns that there wasn’t proper stuff in their size. Pam, fortunately, realized that what the situation needed most was a member of the Parent-Teacher Association. She started clapping her hands and talking to the group like they were a bunch of toddlers (yeah, Mom Voice was out in full force). She started taking the lead in handing out equipment and figuring out what people needed.

Now, lest you think that I got out of this scot free, I can promise you that I didn’t. In the middle of packing everything up, I suddenly felt a strong hand on the back of my neck grab my scruff and yank me way down. Cassi was giving me an extremely annoyed look and said, “Hi, hope I’m not interrupting.” “Somehow, I doubt that,” I managed to get out. She pointed in the direction of the equipment and asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on that’s causing so much trouble?” I needed a second to gather my thoughts (and come up with a convincing lie), so I said, “…global warming?”

Cassi was not having any of it and told me that she knew I was responsible for recording the amount and variety of equipment, and that it was their lives on the line: that if there wasn’t enough stuff to go around, it could mean the difference between her or anyone else not making it through the battle. My stomach went for a loop and I realized that I’d screwed up and had been hurting the ones who I thought I’d been helping. I took a deep breath and said, “Look, Cassi, whatever’s going on, it’s getting sorted out, and the best thing to do is not freak out right now.” She took a couple of breaths herself and let my scruff go, saying, “Right. Calm. I’m completely calm. Everything’s fine.” She told me to stay behind and keep an eye on things and I told her I would.

Also, if she’s reading this: sorry, Cassi. It was a stupid idea and I’m glad nobody actually got hurt.

Pam, Adrian, a couple of other non-combatant grunts and I stayed behind at camp while the rest of the army marched off toward the keep. Bella was leading the way with her scout team, just like she did when we were on our mission to map out the caves. Yova was trying to play a tune, but her guitar string snapped (thank God: it was just out of tune enough to start really getting to you). Day invoked one of his contracts in the way he knew how: he formed a patty of mud and swallowed it, then spewed that mud all over his arms to make clay knuckles and stony fists. From what Bella tells me, Yova’s face looked like there wasn’t any sugar in the lemonade when she saw that.

The first order of business for the army was to take out the enormous Gristlegrinder we’d seen in the cave. The lair was even more disgusting than they’d remembered, with large chunks of maggot-infested meat strewn everywhere. Bella’s team held up while the front-line strikers, including Yova and Day, figured out how they wanted to approach it. Yova suggested that she and Day engage the Gristlegrinder to distract it and give the others and chance to get past. He grumbled a little and said, “I hate it when you’re right.”

Yova and Day went into the Gristlegrinder’s lair just in time to see him grabbing a piece of meat off the fire and nomming on it. He looked confused at first, but then started growling and frothing at the mouth. Day told me it looked like he was almost cracking in places a bit and growing larger. Day started by slugging him in the jaw, then Yova flared her glow, blinding the Gristlegrinder and making him start growling. Even blinded, he managed to crack Day over the crown of his head and Day stumbled, but managed to roll with his girth and get back to a standing position. This actually worked out pretty well for Day, as he was close enough to the Gristlegrinder’s legs and managed to get him in the back of the knee, almost knocking him to the ground. Yova lept in with her rapier and skewered him like a shish kabob. Even though he was bleeding out, they decided it was too risky to let him live and Day snapped his neck. Yova was pretty shaken by this, even after the battle, though of course she tried to make it seem like everything was fine.

While this was going on, those of us back at camp were twiddling our thumbs, keeping watch and trying to make sure there weren’t any spare scouts or messenger birds in the sky to let Scáthach know we were there. As I was walking around, picking a few things up and organizing them, I spotted something moving through the trees in the orchard nearby. I kept an eye on it as I pretending like I was still going about my business and realized it was a hobgoblin. I managed to slip into the trees and watched closely as he moved forward toward the camp and managed to jump him and scoop him up, holding him tight in my arms.

“Hi there, friend, what’s up?” I asked him. He was squirming and trying to bite me, but I had a good enough hold on him where he wasn’t going anywhere. “Let me go, you stupid bird-boy!” he yelled as I started carting him back to camp. He eventually realized he wasn’t going anywhere and stopped fighting, grumbling and unhappy. Pam tried to talk to him when we got back, seeing if he could help us out at all. I set him down and he took a seat on a crate. He had a notebook and a creepy porcelain doll with him that had a cat’s eye jewel in one of the eye sockets. He told us he was patrolling and asked what we were doing there. Pam said we were making breakfast (not, technically, a lie) and offered him a bar. I shouldn’t be surprised given how I saw Day and Nash pack the stuff away, but the whole thing disappeared into his mouth even though it was almost as big as he was.

Both Pam and I noticed that Pudge, which was his name, didn’t seem very upset about being captured. I told him we didn’t want to hurt him, but that we couldn’t let him go, so he could stay if he wanted. He seemed okay with this but then started asking us questions about what we were doing there. Pam started to get a feeling that there was something not right about the whole situation, almost like the feeling one of us would get when spending Glamour. She started to realize there was something not right about the doll. When she asked him about the doll, he told us Scáthach made him carry it, but he didn’t know much more about it. I could tell he was lying about something and Pam used her Disappointed Mom Voice to ask him if he couldn’t tell her what he knows. He admitted we seemed harmless and said that he and the other territory scouts were Scáthach’s eyes and ears out in the field and the doll helped with that. As a reward, Pam offered to let him try all the different flavors of bars until he figured out which one he liked best. Adrian just looked amused at the whole thing.

Back in the cave, Bella and Cassi and Luca were leading the way through the caverns to where the Briarwolves were penned and the captive fae creatures held. They saw that only a few of the creatures that we’d seen when we first came through were left and none of them were looking great: they clearly hadn’t been well cared for and probably hadn’t eaten for days. Bella whispered to Cassi, asking her if they should let the creatures go. Luca rolled her eyes and said that they’d just be underfoot and that they could let them out after the battle. Bella was freaked out, but they kept moving. At least until they heard a very loud snap from behind them. One of the Briarwolves managed to smash through a rusted-out bar in the cage they were all being kept in and was staring at them, drooling.

Cassi and Bella pulled out their knives while Luca crouched down, getting ready to bolt. Bella activated one of her contracts and got some stones circling around her, protecting her. Yova and Day heard the commotion from where they were behind the scout team and entered the room, getting ready to engage. Bella tried skedaddling and started fading away. Luca also tried running. Cassi, the only one of them with a lick of common sense, booked it over to the cage and started trying to mend the broken bar and keep the other wolves from getting out. The wolf lunged for Luca and tackled her to the ground, digging its claws into her carapace. From what Bella told me, Luca shrieked loud enough for it to echo off the walls (at least, that’s what she heard from her hiding place behind one of the crystals).

Yova decided the best thing to do was challenge the wolf to a duel. I can’t promise that the wolf actually understood her, but he apparently thought she looked tastier than Luca (not a hard thing to do given how Luca looks like a bug and is half as charming). The wolf rushed Yova and swiped her pretty nastily. Day charged forward and managed to land a good blow on its side. While they had the wolf distracted, Bella crept out from behind her crystal and dragged Luca behind it. Cassi managed to finish mending the bar and ran over, swiping at the wolf’s other side, somehow carving it open and puncturing a lung. The wolf dropped immediately. Bella managed to stop Luca’s bleeding and bandage her wounds and Cassi brought Luca back to the cavern entrance while the rest of the army headed up into the castle.

And this is probably where you expect the real action to take place, don’t you? The brave changeling knights fighting their way through waves of enemy hordes to the climactic battle in the throne room, holding off against all odds to vanquish their foe and lay waste to the vile True Fae? Yeah, sorry. There was almost no resistance in the castle itself. Most of the changelings there were staff, not made for fighting. It took almost no time to take the keep itself. They realized that there was a more well-equipped guard outside the main entrance, but once the army was indoors, they blocked off all the exits and took care of the ones who got in, barricading themselves inside. The five of us at camp were summoned and we all got escorted in to celebrate the victory.

After the wounded were attended to (Luca was the only one who got it really bad, most of the others just had minor cuts and abrasions), everybody gathered in the throne hall. The army was celebrating wildly, with even Amberleigh smiling a bit. When we saw the throne was still intact, none of my motley was particularly happy. We brought Pudge up and Amberleigh realized he was no threat, instructing that he just be taken away. She kept the doll, however, looking into its cat’s eye and laughing. I’d never heard her laugh before and never want to hear it again: I felt like there was something inside of me dying when she laughed. She told the doll she knew it was watching and hoped it was scared. “I have your spear, I have your keep. You are nothing. And you will continue to be nothing.” She smashed the doll on the floor and turned to face the rest of us.

“It has been a very long, hard struggle for all of us,” she said. “And we have suffered years, decades under the thumbs of these inhuman monsters twisting us for their own amusement. Today, we showed one of them the price they’ll pay for that. You’ve all done good. And I am extremely pleased with how this went. And I look forward to making the rest of the Lords and Ladies of this land bow to us. We will teach them what it means to be owned. And they will pay the price for everything they have done to you.” She swept the spear around, gesturing it at everyone. “So I ask all of you: are you still ready to fight?” They all cheered. “That’s what I like to hear. Now we could destroy Scáthach, we could reduce her title to nothing. But that would be a waste. We have her keep, we have her weapons. What say you all to commandeering this location for ourselves?” There was another cheer, this one a bit less enthusiastic. The majority appeared to still be in favor, even though there were a couple of more anxious expressions. “Good, because that’s what’s happening. And I would hate for anyone to be displeased with our victory here today.”

She held the spear aloft, approached the throne and sat. Everyone felt a shockwave and gust of powerful wind at the same time. A weight settled on our shoulders. That pressure I felt from Amberleigh before magnified and magnified until it was almost unbearable. She started physically changing, with her hair getting longer and her features more angular. The armor she was wearing became flecked with little bits of red crystal. As the changes subsided, she said, “I am Amberleigh, Lady Commander of the Red Hill, and I promise you, we will make this world kneel. You are dismissed.” Most of the army took that opportunity to exit, stage left and she herself took leave of the throne room.

My motley was some of the few who stayed around. Most of the others, including Cassi, just looked exhausted and were sitting wherever they could. Yova suggested that we move on before we discussed anything, given that there were other ears present. It took us a minute, but we found an unoccupied room and tried to figure out what we should do. Day thought we should just make a break for it then, but Yova and I insisted on at least trying to help get Cassi and Adrian out. I mentioned that if Belle could release us, there was a chance that she could release the rest of the changelings at the same time. “But then what happens to Belle?” Pam asked. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. After a second, I had to admit that I didn’t know.

We decided to split up and try to find Cassi, Belle, and Adrian, and meet up within an hour. Yova went back to get Cassi, since Cassi usually knew where Belle was. Cassi was clearly exhausted and unhappy, wishing she was wrong about the way things turned out. Yova told her that Amberleigh had become everything she hated and Cassi admitted that she could see why Amberleigh was doing it, even though Cassi knew it was wrong. “She’s doing what she was made for. I was made to run, and she was made to conquer. There’s a logic to what she’s doing,” she said. Yova asked her if she knew were Belle was and Cassi nodded, saying Belle was in a courtyard out back. Yova helped her up and they decided to go look for her together.

I’m sure you’re completely shocked that I was looking for Adrian. The keep was very large and there really weren’t many of us in it, so I had a lot of ground to cover. As it turns out, he was the one who found me, coming up to me and smiling. I was not exactly Cool Hand Luke, stammering out a few greetings, but I was just so relieved to see him. He told me to come for a walk with him. As we walked through the keep’s corridors, he told me that I was going to be fine, that he’d seen I would be fine. “I’m not sure if I will, but I know Cassi is going to be fine, so I assume if she is, then I will, too,” he told me. I stopped him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Adrian, I don’t want to leave you here. I can’t leave you here,” I told him. He tried to be reassuring, but all I could do was worry. I impulsively pulled him into a hug and closed my eyes tight, holding him against me. He didn’t respond much to that, not in the sense of tensing or trying to pull away, but more like he didn’t know how to respond, like it had been so long since he’d felt physical affection that he didn’t know what to do. When I let him go, he smiled up at me and took my hand, again telling me that I would be fine. He suggested we go find the others and I agreed, not letting go of his hand.

While Yova and I were living our angst fantasy, Day, Pam, and Bella made their way down to the kitchen. Pam told me that she almost saw Day burst into tears when he spotted the most beautiful sight in the world: fresh-baked bread. He grabbed a few pieces of meat and started making himself a sandwich. Bella was quiet at first, but then came up to Day and pulled on his sleeve, asking if he could make her a sandwich, too. He grumbled about it, but still made her one. Bella told me later that she realized Day was like an uncle who couldn’t say no to her. Pam was just pleased to be back in a formal kitchen again, looking around at all the cooking equipment. She eventually wandered out and found Yova and Cassi. They located Belle and brought her back to the kitchen right around the time that Adrian and I stumbled on the group.

Surprisingly enough, the kitchen was empty enough where we could take care of what we needed to there. Belle had something wrapped in cloth under her arm that she’d been trying to keep away from prying eyes. “So I believe I owe you all a boon. I’m sorry I can’t be here in whole,” she told us. It was pretty clear that she was concerned, but not overly so, and I could tell she was also a little disappointed. I asked her what was going to happen to this part of her and she said that eventually the other part of her (read: Amberleigh) would realize she needed Belle and she would be whole again. Yova asked her if that meant Belle would either fade away or merge into Amberleigh and Belle said they were the same person, even if they were in different corporeal bodies. “I don’t like the idea of being discarded. And I didn’t before, either. Eventually, I’m going to realize that I need me,” she said.

I knew this was going to be my best chance at getting Belle to release the other changelings and asked her if she knew about the name the other changelings pledged to. “Amberleigh of Arcadia, the Unbound Slave. But there’s no Unbound Slave anymore,” I said. “Well, that’s both true and untrue,” Belle said, and I felt my stomach drop. It turned out that Amberleigh could alternate between titles if she wanted, and the more titles a True Fae has, the stronger they are and more secure. Scáthach only had one, which was why it was so easy to take the keep. “I’ve already kept my part of the pledge,” Belle said. The others weren’t sure what that meant, but I already knew. “They have to keep serving her, until the last drop of their oppressor’s blood hits the earth,” I said.

As melancholy as we all felt, Cassi, Adrian and Belle knew that we needed to move: there was no telling whether Amberleigh was going to try to renegotiate and our best chance of getting out was right then. The walk to the Hedge was quiet and somber. I was still holding onto Adrian’s hand and he occasionally gave my hand a squeeze. I only managed a few small smiles, because I couldn’t bear what I knew was coming next. Belle pulled out a pair of small sewing scissors and snipped the thread on Bella’s neck, winding it up into a ball and handing it to Bella. She told Bella to keep a hold on it, because she never knew when it might come in handy. Once that was done, she officially released us from her service and told us we were free to go home.

Before we left, Belle handed the package under her arm to Day. He took the cloth off and we all saw it was a masterwork embroidery of our time in Arcadia: Belle had included our first arrival at camp, our return with the crystal spear, and a few other moments, all rendered in some of the most beautiful stitching I’d ever seen. Pam told Belle that it was beautiful and that she should be very proud of the beautiful job she’d done. Belle thanked her and chanted something in a language we didn’t recognize. Behind us, the Hedge started to give way, creating a path we hadn’t ever seen before. Yova hugged Cassi and everybody else seemed ready to go.

I was the last one to turn. I stood there with Adrian for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Finally, I reached up and took hold of one of the feathers on the side of my neck, pulling it out and handing it to him. “A parting gift?” he asked. “For now,” I said, the words feeling thick in my throat. He smiled and took it. “I’ll treasure it,” he said. I was barely keeping my emotions in check and told him again that I didn’t want to leave him. He reassured me that he was going to be fine and put a hand on my face.

I took in a breath and looked at him. “I am going to find a way to get back here. I will get back here and I will find a way to get you out. I swear it,” I said. As I spoke, I felt the words being etched into my neck, under where the ink was leaking from the spot I pulled the feather. He nodded and said, “I understand. And in return, I pledge to keep us safe and alive until you get back.” I bit my lip and said, “I don’t know how to say goodbye.” “You don’t have to. You can just turn and start walking,” he said. I nodded and put my hand on the one he’d placed on my cheek. I took his hand, turned it over and kissed the inside of his wrist. I gave his hand one last squeeze and then I turned and my motley and I started walking back through the Hedge.

The trip back was very different than our trip through the first time. The Hedge was familiar at first, but then started getting thicker and thicker. We got to what seemed like an almost impassible wall of thorns and didn’t know if we could get through it. But then we each started thinking. Pam focused on her kids, Bella on her family, Day on his promise to get Pam home, Yova on her music, and me on my promise to get Adrian and Cassi out. And then, somehow, those memories started pushing us through. The thorns almost felt like they were leaving something behind this time, putting pieces of us back together.

Time lost all meaning. There were times I felt like I was completely alone and other times I felt like all five of us were practically on top of each other. I remember running at full speed and barely managing to put one foot in front of the other. I would swear at one point, I felt hot breath panting on the back of my neck and I didn’t dare to look back, even though I knew there couldn’t – shouldn’t – be anyone there. Eventually, though, we saw light, and trees that were mostly bare of leaves. The spacing between the trees became more deliberate. I finally glanced behind me and saw that the Hedge was no longer there. We’d made it back. None of us knew where or when, but we were at least back in the real world, among apple trees full of ripe fruit. We were all completely exhausted and collapsed against the trees, breathing heavily.

I’d been holding back my emotions the entire time we’d been going through the Hedge, knowing that I couldn’t risk drawing attention or slowing anyone down, but the combination of the physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion finally caught up with me and I started crying. All I could think about was that I’d failed. Cassi and Adrian had saved all of us, kept us going the whole time we were in Arcadia and I should have been able to figure out how to break their oath and free them, but I couldn’t. Pam and Bella both started hugging me and Yova even dragged Day over. As relieved as I was that we’d all made it and as comforting as it was to feel like they were all there for me, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d failed.

I didn’t have the time to go into a full breakdown, however. We heard the sound of crunching leaves coming near us and a voice saying, “Well, isn’t that adorable.” Yova managed to pull herself out of Pam’s vice-like insistence on the group hug and pulled out her sword. When I looked up, I saw a short, tan-skinned man with barklike indents in his skin and green hair pulled back into a ponytail. He put his hands up and said, “Whoa, easy. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m just here to pick you up.” Yova reluctantly put her sword away and Day asked him who he was. He gave us a salute and said, “The name’s Evain. I’m here to officially welcome you to the Greater Freehold of Upstate New York.”

And that will wrap up the first of our adventures through the glass, darkly, and back. But it certainly wasn’t the last of the shenanigans my motley and I managed to get ourselves into. When I come back, I think I’ll give you a little more info on the freehold we’d managed to get ourselves welcomed to, and then we’ll jump ahead to the next trouble we found ourselves in. Until then, be safe and may you never fall in love at summer camp.