#michael facing a consequence for the way he treats people close to him

[fragmentating]

I dont think I've seen many discussions of this project or the similar ones this author discusses in other articles on here yet, which really is a shame and I reccomend everyone read it especially if you, like me, sometimes struggle with being asked "so what are alternative ways of treating people in crisis"

Under the cut is some very personal ramblings about how I stumbled over this article and how it felt reading it for the first time in a fairly vulnerable state. Tw for abuse mentions, drugs, your fairly normal mad life shit. This is the most personal writing I have ever created on this overall topic, so I would really appreciate if any of you would give it your time of day, thanks..!

As an introduction I have to begin with this: I recently quit being a consumer. I was always a survivor, but I clung to anti psychotics for a couple years of adulthood because it felt preferable to the insomnia I'd find myself with without, and a nice little blanket of nothingness in the saved pills in those extra stressful moments. Whenever I'd quit, I'd come back sometime later again. Last time it was being desperate to quit getting excessively drunk every night. And the closed psych ward I checked myself into, because I genuinely was not capable of controlling my drinking at home in any way at all, starting me on seroquel once again. Neither helped me achieve sobriety long term (not really surprising to myself, but not the point of this, honestly). Rather I kept risking my health even more by consuming both on many nights after being back home. But the warnings sort of stop feeling real too. I mean, I've done this a few hundred times for sure by now. What really pushed me over the edge, was my tardive dyskenesia (tics) worsening and worsening, even after switching to another anti psychotic hoping itd stop the progression getting back on seroquel was causing. Sometimes they're painful. That's the worst. I was originally planning on trying another pill my friend had reccomended who was currently staying in rehab, hearing me lament my lack of sleep without this medication I didn't want anymore. he gave me the email address of the psych giving it to him that I could access through the outpatient services at the clinic for addiction by using the right keywords. It would've been easy.

But I never wrote that mail. Instead, after getting my last refill of Perazine, from that asshole psych who also misgendered me so aggressively and consequently, didnt matter that I legitimately already had changed my gender marker a year earlier... that refill was supposed to last me the next 3 months, and I halfheartedly tapered it off for 2 or 3 weeks. The thought of seeing his face again made me sick. This was now nearly exactly a month ago. I have felt no desire to write that email.

I didnt experience any of the common withdrawal symptoms I heard so much about, only after quitting completely, there was a very short bout of very confusing feelings, sensations, beliefs. The usual. I've been there, medicated or not. I made it through without reaching for a pill again. 3 days, max, then it was over. But suddenly I stopped sleeping, for up to 50 hours at a time. After about a week of that, I finally found someone online say insomnia can be a withdrawal symptom of quitting anti psychotics. I genuinely never heard of that before ? (But to be fair, maybe at some point I did, and the perazin and seroquel and others just made it drip off my longterm memory like teflon.) Either way, could it have been that every time I went running back for (sometimes way less bad) insomnia after quitting, it was actually fucking withdrawals? I thought I could probably keep this up for a few months until starting my new / first job. Unemployed people have an easier time staying up 50 hours at a time because we can simply collapse into bed at 9am after those and sleep all day. By now I'm mostly down to 30 hours at a time. Theres issues still, sure, but the quick progress is making me excited. I might never sleep perfectly normal, but at this point, I'd take that any day over daily substances.

What happened exactly, aside from the insomnia? I ran out of my weed a couple weeks earlier. Lost my hookup at the same time, so I decided, you know what, let me just not get something for a while, I'm not in the mood to look for something new rn. I was still drinking weekly with friends, but then they got sick for a while, and I only got drunk by myself once or twice that entire time. and somehow realized it wasnt actually my favorite alone-time substance anymore, that was weed. But I didn't have weed. So I just tried. And tried. And it mostly worked out. I stopped thinking about it. Had a small run in with cough syrup we dont talk about. And then I quit the perazine. I was terrified. This was the thing keeping all the other cravings at bay, right? It didnt make sense. I hadn't been "unmedicated" for more than a few weeks since the last 8 years. If I was out of pills, I'd turn to weed or alcohol or both. But nothing really happened this time. Because I stopped running from my feelings.

Slowly I started noticing it. There were so many things I was suddenly reacting to emotionally. Joy, pain, grief, connection, ... I never thought of myself as particularly numb before, but in comparison? It's hard to describe. It felt like every day further into getting off the perazine I felt more like myself. But how did I know it was me? It was someone I had never met before. I hadn't met adult me, ever. All I knew was abused kid me, abused teen me. It was me because now I felt alive in every little thing. Suddenly insomnia feels a lot less awful when you're having it by yourself, someone so novel but comforting. But with good emotions come bad. Suddenly I was crying curled up in a ball about memories from my most traumatic first institutionalization as a teen that I used to talk about like it was a fun little anecdote. There I felt it. "Go take one of your pills. 100m should probably be enough, maybe 150?" I wish I could say I did something super healthy. But I went for a cigarette cause I was really craving one, the breakdown had sort of delayed my usual midnight smoke. That turned into looking at the stars with music on my headphones for a bit. Back in bed I actually had forgotten about the pills again. Instead I opened up Google and typed in "psych abuse survivor". I was looking for something akin to a forum, I believe. But Nothing, really. A few term definitions on Wikipedia. Im no stranger to this internet search. And internet searches about anti psychiatry, anti psychotics, drug interactions, the name of the place I was institutionalized at. Every couple months I check if someone finally burned it down. And About to give up I saw the link to this article. And I opened it. Newly me, newly free to feel, really feel.

It was intriguing at first. I teared up a little a few times. Nothing major or surprising for my newfound emotional range. Then I got to the part where he talks about holding people, after they were allowed to freely let out their pent up rage, anger, manic energy, whatever it was, just let it out, all out. And theyd slowly come out of the (UNLOCKED) room (THAT THEY WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE AT ANY POINT) after a few hours, and they would be hugged. And often they would start crying. Sometimes violently. And they would hold them lovingly, sometimes multiple of them, until the persons sobs trailed off into sniffles, into nothing. As I finished the sentence it broke out of me in a same way. Theres silent tears running down my cheeks writing this right now. But last night ? I was wailing. Sounds I had not heard from myself, ever. Not the night my grandmother passed. Not the nights I recalled sexual abuse, recalled my violent father, recalled my peers universally rejecting me for the freak I was, as I laid in my basement next to baggies of weed and xtc, as i sat in the bathroom watching blood go down the drain.

Suddenly it wasn't just the abuse in the ward that hurt. The memories of seeing tiny harm- and powerless kids strapped down and tied up, older boys injected and carried off, alarms blaring, keys turning in locks, a haze of benzos that made everything blur together, being watched as you shower, watched as you sleep. Dragged out of your room screaming. What hurt me so much I was wailing like never before was the love I needed, but never got when I needed it the most. I needed to be held as I cried. I dont think I have been held as I cried since I was 9 years old. I have been gawked at, yelled at, ignored and stepped over as I laid on the floor, walked past in public, threatened, locked up.

But I have not once been held.

[regentreveries]

charles michael davis, 34, he/him, cismale, abernathy #3) I wonder how the season will treat EDMUND ABERNATHY. It’s true that HE is JOVIAL, but I’ve also heard that they can be REBELLIOUS. Do you think they’ll find their match? I doubt it if what I heard is true. I heard that [REDACTED] Of course, that’s just speculation. (dusto, 29, est, he/him, none).

Trigger Warnings for Under the Cut: Death, prostitution, Adultery

GENERAL

Full name: Edmund Roger Abernathy

Date of Birth: August 10th, 1780

Zodiac:  Leo

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Charles Michael Davis

Hair: Chocolate

Eyes: Hazel

Dominant Hand: Right

Relationship Status: Unmarried

FAMILY

Father: Gregory Abernathy

Mother: Petunia Abernathy

Siblings: Miss Diana Abernathy

Mr. James Abernathy

Miss Kamari Abernathy

BACKGROUND

About The Abernathy Family:

The Abernathys are an old money family from the center of London. They hold a lot of land and multiple city blocks. After years and years, Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy could not conceive. Instead, they adopted multiple children and loved them as their own. They are usually a close-knit family; however Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy recently announced the most surprising news. Instead of the money and real estate going to the eldest son, they have declared that the inheritance shall go to whichever sibling makes the best match. this has made the usually close siblings- insane. fights, deception, and heartbreak are bound to take place.

~ londonhigh-society main

About Edmund:

Edmund's journey to where he is now was not an easy one. His father was a soldier, a kingsman of the British during The Revolutionary War, and he was conceived through a night spent with a lady of the night. While his mother died in childbirth, his father had him sent back to England, with every intention of raising him once he returned from the war.

Unfortunately, that return never came.

Once news came that his father had been killed, his uncle, who had been more than willing to take him in as a temporary measure, but who had several children of his own and did not have the means to care for another on a permanent basis, made the incredibly difficult decision to send him to an orphanage. It was there that Edmund spent the majority of his early years of childhood.

It was also in the orphanage that Edmund developed a rebellious and knavish ways which would go with him throughout the whole of his life. The number of times he stole food from the markets was quickly lost count of, and on more than one occasion he found his way into the homes of some of the wealthiest people in all of London, pocketing small items which were of little consequence to their owners, but were considered treasures for someone like Edmund.

Yet as rascally as he was, don't get the wrong idea about poor Edmund. He stole, certainly, but everything that he stole, whether it was food or something more substantial, he shared with the other children in the orphanage. He did it for the thrill and the satisfaction of breaking the rules, yes, but the main reason he did it was to help out the people he cared about.

It was this very fact that ultimately saw him being adopted by the Abernathys.

See, as I mentioned before, Edmund would sometimes break into the houses of the wealthy, and one such house that he broke into was the house of the Abernathy family. It must have been fate, because Edmund was very good about not getting caught, but this time, he was, and when he was sat down and asked to explain why he had done what he did, he told the truth; he had done it for one of the other kids in the orphanage, who had really wanted a music box. Surprised by this revelation and the genuine goodness that it proved existed inside of him, The Abernathys took Edmund in, making him the first of the many children they would adopt.

In much the same way that he had loved and cared for the other children in the orphanage, Edmund came to love and care for his adopted siblings. As the oldest, he considered himself their protector, and fully embraced the idea of looking after them, and making sure they got the best out of life. All the while, he continued in his rebellious ways, and eventually found himself engaging in affairs with women who were unhappy in their marriages.

I truly believe that it was Edmund's intention that once he would inherit the Abernathy fortune, as he had expected to as the oldest, he would do everything he could to ensure that all of the rest got a share big enough to take care of them for life. Unfortunately, now that it has been revealed that he is not guaranteed to inherit the fortune, and all of his siblings are vying for it, he fears that if one of the others is to get it, all the rest of them will be left with nothing. Therefore, he realizes that he has no choice but to win the competition best match; for his own sake, as well as for the rest of his family's.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: Charming, Protective, Generous, Jovial, Adventurous

Negative Traits: Rebellious, Unscrupulous, Reckless, Stubborn, Hot-headed, Debaucherous

Likes: Adventure, Excitement, Sex, Wine, Debauchery, Hunting, Riding, Fencing

Dislikes: Reading, Stiffs, Rules, Decorum.

[powderseal]

my re-write of maria’s s2 arc

Brought to you by the principles of: “Maria was established as a thoughtful, caring, intuitive character what the fuck are you writing”; “Michael is in no shape to be in a relationship with anyone holy shit”; and “Liz is allowed to still care about people other than Max why is this happeninggggg”

Part One: Maria the friend

-Instead of the writers having Maria (and Liz) assuming that Alex is just a sad, pathetic gay boy who’s spent the last decade in unrequited pining for the only guy who ever showed interest in him in high school, so why have any conversations about it really, Maria (and Liz) treat Alex’s feelings with respect and don’t minimize the significance of Alex and Michael’s 10-year relationship. Instead, Maria’s conflict over whether to prioritize her friend’s feelings or her own inspires her to reflect on her friendships and how she defines herself by them. 

-It seems clear that Maria was the heart of their social group: Rosa, Liz, and Alex all seem to consider her their best friend. Maria has been shown to take that responsibility very seriously, especially with Rosa’s memory. Maria works through how she has placed herself in the “fun friend” role in her mind’s own narrative, specifically as how that relates to her being a Black woman, in conversations with her mom and Liz. This results in Maria strengthening her resolve to find ways to center and prioritize herself in her own life and in Liz realizing she needs to tell Maria the truth about Rosa.  

-In the aftermath of these revelations, Maria has an honest conversation with Alex about her conflicting feelings, how hopeful she felt about a relationship with Michael and how badly she feels about possibly hurting Alex, and how the alien/Rosa reveal has made her question Michael. Alex is allowed to express his hurt feelings about the dissolution of his and Michael’s relationship while still supporting Maria and advocating for Michael as a good person. Maria ultimately decides she owes it to herself to see what could grow between her and Michael, and since the way Alex talks about Michael makes it clear that he is still in love with him, she remains conscientious and considerate of Alex’s feelings and doesn’t involve him emotionally in her relationship or engage in PDA with Michael in front of him.  

Part Two: Maria the girlfriend

-Throughout the events of Part One, Michael has continued to show interest in Maria and insist that he and Alex are over. Once they start dating, Michael is super attentive and caring but very avoidant of opening up about himself and very concerned about losing Maria. The cracks we saw in their relationship in canon are there, exacerbated by the fact that Maria is actively trying to get to know Michael better and genuinely connect with him but he just wants to focus on her. It becomes clear to Maria that while Michael wants to be good for her, he is not in a good place for himself and the relationship isn’t necessarily what she thought it would be.  

-The tipping point comes when Alex is in a dangerous situation and the way Michael reacts and the way they look at each other after makes it very clear to Maria that Michael is still in love with Alex and things between them are far from over. She tries to confront Michael about his feelings, and he uses the excuse that he and Alex have just been working together to find out about Michael’s mom, which only makes things worse because Maria didn’t know about that and Michael has never turned to her or opened up to her about those issues. Maria is understandably angry at Michael for using her/their relationship as a distraction and avoidance technique for all of the problems in his life and for not being honest about his feelings for Alex. She ends their romantic relationship and asks for space before they can be friends again.  

Part Three: Maria the psychic

-In pain from the breakup with Michael, and feeling uncomfortable around Alex after things with Michael didn’t turn out to be ‘worth’ the pain it caused all of them, Maria turns to Isobel (as a fellow psychic) and Liz (as a scientist) and dives into an exploration of her powers and her family history. Maria recontextualizes her earlier resolution to center herself in her own life and divorces that goal from pursuing a relationship with Michael. Instead, she works with Isobel to strengthen her powers and with Liz to prevent side-effects. This leads to her heroic actions at the end of the season. Michael comes to visit her in the hospital and they start to rebuild a friendship.  

-In terms of what Maria actually discovers about her family history, I’m a little torn on what I’d prefer. The show offered us two explanations for her power, one about her grandmother being experimented on at Caulfield and one about her great-grandmother being an alien. I didn’t love either of those for different reasons but I think the first one makes more sense (and doesn’t result in Isobel and Maria being related) but I’m not crazy about the show evoking that particular cultural and historical trauma (especially since they went nowhere with it). I also like that Maria’s family, particularly the women, is a source of pride and strength and I’d hate to see that darkened. So maybe an alternate take on that would be that Maria’s family helped save/protect Isobel’s mom and were given powers, either as a gift or an accident from the close contact? But I’m open to other thoughts.  

[fluffywolverine]

so season 6 of lucifer came out.

there were some things that i liked, but generally i hated it. i believe that was SUCH. BAD. WRITING and it left me frustrated. so i decided to write down all things that pissed me off and sometimes i try to fix this by giving other ideas that – in my opinion – would have made the story better. Check my points out and feel free to add your points of view. without further ado: let’s talk.

- imma start with the big one – fucking time travel. ok I generally hate this trope in the media, because it’s complicated and often leads to some logical mistakes – and they happened here. so rory time travels because of her anger which was caused… by her anger?? i think this was unnecessary. it also brings trouble with this whole free will vs. fate discourse. lucifer says, that he chooses free will… but at the same time he goes the path of his fate. he disappears from rory’s life, because he HAS TO in order of the events of the season to happen. just because he chose to do it, doesn’t mean it’s free will.

- lucifer becomes the very thing he desperately didn’t want to become. “bUt It WaS fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd” screw this bullshit, if writers wanted to make it better, they could have easily do so. they could have altered the rules of time travel so that his choice of staying could have resulted in rory disappearing. yes, that would have been heart-breaking, but it would have been a great lesson for lucifer, that he can’t make the same mistakes his father did.

- chloe and Lucifer get a child without even talking about it. “bUt MaYbE tHeY tAlKeD aBoUt It We JuSt DiDn’T sEe It” you may say. but the point of writing anything  - whether it’s a book or a script – is to show any thing that matters. and talking about having kids is one of the most things any couple should do. also not every couple needs to have kids and forcing deckerstar to have it feels so far-fetched. this thread was very unnecessary.

- rory herself is a big problem. to begin with – she wanted to KILL her FATHER. i get her frustration, but commiting a murder?? just because he wasn’t there for her?? I would have thought that chloe taught her better, taught her that, like, killing people is bad. turns out she did not. secondly… she just isn’t necessary here. i elaborate later so in conclusion – her thread could be altered with michael’s and it would have made much more sense. i also don’t like the actress (why was she blinking so much??) so i certainly didn’t help.

- of course ella has to end up with a boyfriend. because earlier she always ended up with “bad boys” and now, without any help, she is just able to have a healthy relationship! yay! for me this creates a toxic view, that in order to be happy one HAS TO be in a relationship, because being alone is aLwAyS bAd. well, it’s not.

- i also have troubles with lucifer starting up a foundation for her. firstly, he didn’t ask her. secondly it – AGAIN – shows, that anything good ella got, was because of another man. firstly because of her relationship with carol, secondly because of lucifer’s idea. it could have been so easily altered! there could have been a scene of a conversation e.g. with amenadiel where she expressed a will to do better and be better for someone (given that she sees a lot of dark in herself). amenadiel could have then told her, that she is an inspiration and that it is her biggest strength. that could have been where ella came up with an idea to start a foundation blah blah – it’s just a rough idea but I believe that written well, it could have been so much better;

- and the last thing about ella – of course she had to find out about celestial stuff because sHe WaS tHe OnLy OnE rEmAiNiNg. umm what about trixie? i'll come back to her later. ella was portrayed as the only one believing in god and having her seeing that he really exists ruins the concept of faith. it’s not about knowing something exists, it’s about believing in it.

- WHERE THE FUCK IS MICHAEL. i must admit that i loved this character AND I CAN’T STAND HOW AWFULLY HE WAS TREATED HERE. so at the end of season 5 lucifer says “everyone deserves a second chance, even you michael". and what does he do then? COMMANDS HIS TWIN TO CLEAR THE FLOOR IN HELL. yes, i agree that michael should have been punished for his rebellion plan, but… he already has his wing cut off. now he’s stuck in hell, with no way out and is he supposed to learn his lesson? this is cruel. instead of this the entire season could have been centred on him – his journey to self-acceptance, learning how manipulating someone is toxic and starting to realise how to be a better person. at the end he could have become god (because amenadiel is such an obvious choice), which would create a beautiful connection – michael in heaven and his twin in hell.

- lucifer doesn’t feel like being god and that’s cool. damn. people died for him to win this place and he’s like “actually you know guys i’m not the right person bye”. while i believe that anyone should step out if they have a reason, but at the same time lucifer should have faced any consequences of his decisions. falling frog and kool aid in the river are not enough.

- adam’s plot feels just quickly sketched, not actually written. i really appreciate this take on toxic masculinity but it all felt too fast-paced. it’s good that they show this idea of “strong and not-showing-any-feelings man” kind of attitude, but it is impossible for ANYONE (especially The ManTM) to change their mind in a matter of a few days. it takes weeks, months, years even, especially given that adam is like a gazillion years old, he should have especially taken a long time to process this.

- carol is just too pure to exist. he’s also one of the most boring, plain and one-dimensional character i’ve ever seen. i feel like they gave him a problem with alcohol because the writers were like “hmmmmm he has to have some weakness. LET’S MAKE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC”. we don’t see any signs of his everyday struggle, why did he fell into this problem, how did struggle. it just feels like a dull plot device to show that he has flaws. oh and also he’s so pure that he doesn’t mind ella BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE. acceptance should have boundaries and violating someone’s personal space isn’t right.

- why did they forget about trixie again? yes, i know that scarlett estevez had another project but this does not justify the bad writing. the girl lost her father and we only see her crying once because of that. no signs of this affecting her everyday life, not showing any consequences of her relationships with other people, not  glimpse of any change in her behaviour. oh and also she loses lucifer too because time travel! great idea, writers! losing another close to her person would have been soooooo good for her psychic for sure.

- i also hate the idea that suddenly rory becomes the only child they care for. where is trixie when they spend their day on the beach? where is she when her mother dies? did writers forget about her as well as they did about michael?

- amenadiel being a police officer is… problematic. i was looking forward to this thread, i was kinda scared too and it turned out… meh. i’m white and not American, so this of course does not involve me at all, but i felt like this was not enough. harris basically said that there is nothing they can do to make it better for black folks. even though chloe and amenadiel want to make everything more just, we don’t actually see any change. the only thing is that harris becomes a detective (right? i’m not sure if i understood it correctly, so correct me if i’m wrong, please) which is a total contradiction of what she said before. suddenly she does not have to protect people anymore?

- in season 5 they stated that heaven and hell need to be fixed, as the system is unfair and unjust. at the end we don’t see any change, the only thing that is different is lucifer helping damned souls. it doesn’t help at all! these people still go to hell, they still suffer and there’s nothing that changed here! plus there is also this thing, that a sociopath who murdered people in cold blood goes to heaven (because he does not feel any guilt) and a person abused by her parents/partner/whoever goes to hell (because have been manipulated to feel guilt).

- dan making amends with trixie while… there wasn’t really anything to make amends about. like, most of the parents make mistakes while upbringing their children, but does this make them unworthy of heaven? i would have preferred dan to slowly regain his self-consciousness, how he positively affected the lives of people around him and by doing so – through conversations or maybe reliving some of the memories, he could have proved to himself that he is worthy of love and redemption.

phew, what a ride. i really liked dan being reunited with charlotte (it went just as i imagined) and mazeve dynamics. i even felt like they are finally a real life relationship – with people hurting each other by not understanding each other, but then talking and seeing other’s perspective. generally though, i’m very disappointed.

sorry for any mistakes, lacking commas etc. writing a text this long in not my native language was not easy.

[thekatebridgerton]

I usually love the brigerton mom but her relationship with hyacinth rubbed me the wrong way. She immediacy thought hyacinth was at fault for relationship troubles and she treated her like she was a problem child when all her children were problematic. Hyacinth isn’t even top 3 of her children regarding problematic /scandalous actions

...she isn't? Are you sure? We're we reading the same book? If I had to put her somewhere in the ranking, it would be next to Benedict.

Let's do a quick review of scandals and how bad Violet would see it from her perspective:

Benedict, whom we have agreed is probably her favorite child because he does take the award for #mostproblematic, with the whole, seducing the bastard daughter of an earl while she was a maid in his own house, chasing Sophie after she said no etc. And Violet helped him marry her. but at least he faces some sort of consequences for his problematic actions and ends his book learning from the experience.

Daphne conned the ton, her friends and family into thinking she was with Simon, but was that really super scandalous? She did marry him. Her problematic actions more or less. involved giving Violet grandchildren, so I'm pretty sure she'd get a free pass.

Anthony's almost scandalous action was trying to duel Simon, in his book he kissed Kate twice before marriage, and put his face on her boob, but that happened in Aubrey Hall, away from London and the ton, so minimum scandal there, plus he married Kate within a week.

Colin, he just kissed Penelope once, acted like a angry lovesick idiot and later seduced Penelope in a carriage outside her house with her whole family inside and sure he married Lady Whistledown, which counts as pretty scandalous. But we're talking about Colin's actions not Penelope's

Eloise well, she ran away from home and spent a week unchaperoned in the house of a widowed bachelor who had two children. It does sound pretty bad, But it was a house in the country, not in London and it was close to the house of her very married brother. How scandalous can that be if it got out?. She probably did worry Violet a lot so let's say Eloise comes second to Benedict.

Francesca. Has done nothing scandalous ever. Her mother even acknowledges that Francesca is the best at covering her tracks. If what she did in Scotland with Michael was published in Lady Whistledown, not even her mother would believe it. But for the record an unmarried widow having a wild rendezvous in Scotland with a rake does sound like a juicy scandal right up Pen's alley

We can leave Gregory out because of the whole 'roping his entire family into crashing a wedding' and facing no consequences for it, is really something else. Maybe by the time Violet got to Gregory and Hyacinth she'd just seen so much she was okay with turning a blind eye to all their crazy.

But let's get back to Hyacinth, shall we review the ammount of times Hyacinth broke into the quarters of an unmarried gentleman, in London, during the social season? She also bribed her maid into leaving her alone with said gentleman for unknown purposes, and let's not forget the whole trapsizing around London at different hours of the day without an appropriate chaperone just for funsies. During the social s.e.a.s.o.n Because if that got out it would definitely be a big scandal. Also Hyacinth is right up there with Benedict in the scandal of not respecting their love interest's privacy. But unlike Benedict, Hyacinth never faces consequences. She gets to stay exactly as comfortable as she was before she got married

Yes Hyacinth's family treats her like a child and yes her mother assumes everything is her fault, because to be fair when her siblings have marital troubles it's usually their fault. But Hyacinth does act like the world owes her something and disregards people's feelings quite often, if I were her parent I'd also be concerned about her.

Sometimes I wonder if it was really Gareth who didn't want to confide his feelings about his father to Hyacinth or if it was that she'd never given him any indication that she was going to be kind and understanding about the issue.

In that part I think maybe they were both at fault in their relationship problems.

He wasn't completely honest, yes, but maybe Gareth thought that Hyacinth was going to treat his concerns about his father as light-heartedly as she treated the concerns of everyone else, especially her family. And maybe Hyacinth expected Gareth to open up about his feelings completely because if he loved her he would be honest with her.

That just sounds like a two way problem to me. And while I don't agree with how Violet handled it, I can't help but think she might have been a little bit right.

[samdeancass]

CandyFloss

Requested by Destiel's kiddo on Quotev.

Pairing: Jack x female!reader

Genre: Fluff, tiny bit of angst.

Characters: Jack, Y/N,

A/N: Y/N is Crowleys daughter.

Description: Jack and Y/N are visiting an amusement park, where he has his first taste of candyfloss.

Jack had been through a very hard time lately with his father taking his powers and Dean being possessed by Michael. He was becoming overwhelmed with grief and anger; he hardly left his room and was struggling to come to terms with his new way of living: being human.

You had tried everything to coax him out of his room and you were beginning to feel hopeless. You knew that a demon shouldn’t feel so strongly for another being, but Jack brought out the best of you. He made you want to be good.

After your father’s passing; sacrificing himself for the sake of the world, you felt anger that you had never experienced before. You wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps, you wanted to be able to save the world, but still have people in the palm of your hands that you could control. You completely changed when you witnessed your fathers death, and the Winchesters could sense it. The brothers and you had become really close thanks to your father. It broke them inside seeing you so broken.

All of the anger and frustration melted away though when you set your eyes on Jack for the first time. You stood still when he knocked Sam and Dean down, completely unfazed by the situation. He stood up and cocked his head to the side in confusion before running off into the surrounding forest.

It’s safe to say that Jack had helped you through the worst time in your long life, he gave you something to hope for, somebody to love. He made you happy and has helped you become the hero that you wanted to be. Just like there are bad angels, there are good demons.

Now it was time for you to help Jack through this terrible time. Jack was always fascinated with human enjoyment and always wanted to try new things, especially candyfloss. Castiel had once told Jack that when he was human, he tasted candyfloss and that it tasted like flavoured clouds, soft and sweet. Jack had mentioned it nearly everyday since, so you decided to find somewhere that would both be fun and have candyfloss.

After about a hour of searching, you managed to find a nearby amusement Park and you knew that it was the perfect thing to cheer Jack up. You ran towards his room and knocked on the door, waiting for a response. When you didn’t get one, you slowly opened the door and entered the room, making sure to close it behind you.

You noticed a figure lying down on the bed in front of you and suddenly felt very sad. All of the human emotions where still very new to you so you felt each emotion very deeply. You walked over and sat on the side of the bed, running your hand through Jack’s hair.

“Hey, you. How are you today?” You listened for a reply but got nothing. Sighing you walked over to the other side of the bed to face Jack and switched the bedside lamp on. “C’mon, Jack. We need to get you out of this room. It’s really not good for you to be by yourself.” Again, nothing. You stood up and slowly walked towards the door. “Alright then, Jack. I suppose we won’t go to the amusement park and taste some candyfloss.”

Jack’s head lifted up off the pillow with his eyes full of excitement and wonder. “I want to go. Please, can we go?” A large smile erupted onto your face and you turned around, nodding your head. Jack leaped off the bed and ran towards you, engulfing you into a hug.

You took a car from the bunkers garage and started the drive to the park about 10 minutes after telling Jack. He was bouncing up and down in his seat, a large, excited smile taking center stage on his face. He stared in wonder at the large rides as you pulled into the parking lot. You switched off the engine and sat in the car for a little while, just staring at the wonder before you.

“Shall we go inside, Jack?” He nodded his head and you both got out of the car, making your way towards the entrance, hand in hand. Once you paid the entrance tickets, Jack immediately wanted to find the candyfloss stall and made it his first mission.

After what seemed like forever, you finally found the stall and bought two. Jack licked his lips when the vendor handed him the sweet treat and immediately delved in. His eyes went wide as the first piece went onto his tongue, the sweet taste taking over his senses. You smiled at Jack, happy to finally see him happy.

“Y/N, Castiel was right. This does taste like clouds!” You laughed at your boyfriends excitement and took his hand to guide him along the twisting paths of the park.

Each ride that Jack spotted, he wanted to go on and of course, he pulled you with him. The bumper cars were his favourite, he loved riding around and bumping into different people without having any consequences. Although, he did like winning prizes at the stalls. The smile on his face when he realised he won was absolutely precious.

When it was time to head back you wanted to go on one more ride: the Ferris Wheel. You and Jack handed the vendor your ticket and sat down on the seats. The sun was beginning to set, which made for a very stunning view. As the wheel began to move, you and Jack stared at each other and smiled. Today was the best day the both of you had had in a long time and you could see the difference in Jack already. His shoulders were no longer slumped and he was very relaxed. When the wheel reached the top, it stopped for a little while for you to enjoy the view.

You looked out of the window and sighed at the beautiful surroundings that faced back at you. “Thank you, Y/N.” You turned back around to Jack who was staring at you with a sincere but happy expression. “There’s no need to thank me, Jack. I am helping you through your hard time, just like you helped me through mine. It hurts me to see you upset, Jack. I had to try some way of making you happy, and this way worked.”

Jack took your hands in his and kissed the top of yours before leaning in and placing his lips on yours in a sweet, simple kiss. You stayed like this for a few seconds before breaking away. “I love you, Y/N.” You stared at him in shock. You didn’t even know that Jack knew what love was. You stayed silent in shock for a few seconds before replying. “I love you to, Jack.” You both embraced in another kiss until it was time to get off.

You stepped off hand in hand and made your way towards the car to head back to the bunker. The ride home was filled with smiles and hand holding, gestures that would have made you feel sick a few years ago. Jack had changed you for the better and you never wanted to let him go.

Once you arrived at the bunker, you and Jack headed straight to your room. You both lay down on the bed and held each other in your arms. After a little while, you heard soft snores coming from Jack. You looked up and smiled seeing that he was asleep with a small smirk on his face.

It meant the world to you for Jack to be happy and you were going to spend every moment trying to make that happen. He was the most important thing in your life and he deserved all the happiness in the world.

Tags: @akshi8278 @stellastyless

[murderousginger]

She’s A God - Part 2

Peaky blinder fic (Part 1 here)

Masterlist

Warnings: Sass. Alcohol. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 3,954

Finn was standing at your desk, shyly smiling down on you exactly ten minutes after your shift ended on Monday. Most of the women had packed up and left quickly, shooting odd glances at you as you continued working past the bell. You might as well do more work as you waited for the boy.

Finn's face was flushed and he looked like he had just ran there -- probably from whatever errands his brothers had him on. His clothes were slightly baggy, probably to give him room to grow in, and his hat hung off his head at an angle that gleamed the razor sewn into the cap. Your face broke into a warm smile as you stood up from your desk. 

"Hello Finn, I'm (Y/N)," you said as you extended your hand to him. 

He smiled and shook it, surprise etched on his face you even offered. 

"Hello Miss (Y/N), Tommy told me to meet you here for lessons?" Finn fidgeted as you took his shoulder and guided him into Tommy's office, grabbing a book from your desk at the last moment. Tommy had been elsewhere most of the afternoon, so there was no awkward passing after his housewarming, thankfully.

"Shelly told him a woman had snuck into his study," Lizzie whispered to you at lunch, her face a mix of amusement and annoyance. "He had bought a London whore for the occasion and thought it might have been her. Imagine his surprise to find you there. Shelly knew it was you, of course. Jealousy looks ugly on all women."

"Yes," you said, trying to keep a kind tone. The poor boy seemed nervous and out of place. "Your brother said you had trouble with reading and asked if I could help. Is that alright with you, Finn?"

Finn looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. 

"I don't have no issues with reading," he grumbled. "The letters and words rearrange and get all weird sometimes. I can read."

"I have no doubts you can, Finn," you reassured as you motioned to one of the two chairs in front of Tommy's desk. "You seem like a bright boy. Maybe you can just read some of this book to me, then? You'll be doing me a favor, really. Tommy said he would pay me to help you out. And I brought candy, so any page you read, I can give you some."

You pulled a handful of hard candies from your pocket as you sat down next to Finn. He eyed you cautiously. 

"They treat me like a baby," he said. "I'm not. You shouldn't treat me like a baby, either. I'm 16. I've cut people. I'm a Blinder."

"I have no intention of treating you like a child," you said solemnly as you looked out the door and leaned into Finn conspiratorially. "I just thought, since you have no issues with reading, we could sit here and read together, eating sweets, and tricking that brother of yours out of money. You help me with this, and I'll happily bring you cookies tomorrow."

Finn leaned in with his brows raised. 

"Cookies?"

"Any kind you like," you said as you handed him a candy before popping one in your mouth. "Now read me a page or two, please."

Finn put the candy in his mouth as he squinted at you much like his brother had at the party days before. You held your gaze to his and pushed the book closer to him.

"It's about pirates," you lilted as you nudged him with your shoulder. "They have even better adventures than your brothers do."

He ran his hand over the front before he opened it. 

"Treasure Island," he read slowly, "by Robert Louis Stevenson." 

You nodded for him to go on and he began reading slowly. You let him read at his own pace, only helping him sound words out after he could not get them figured out himself. You praised him, handing him another candy after a particularly hard word or completed page. It was slow going, and you had only finished a chapter or two in an hour, but Finn was looking more and more confident in his reading and he was quickly becoming interested in the story. 

"I think that's enough today, Finn," you said as you reached for the book and dogged the ear of the page and closed it. "Tomorrow we'll start chapter three."

"But I want to find out why Billy Bones attacked Black Dog!" He said excitedly. "That fight was legendary. And why do these people like rum so much? Everyone knows whiskey is better."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a brow as Finn blushed. 

"Everyone knows it, (Y/N)," he said. "That's why all my brothers drink it."

"Maybe it's only pirates that appreciate rum," you mused as you nudged him. "Rum is for mischief."

"Whiskey is for business, and we are businessmen."

The low rumble reverberated, making both of you jump and look at the man in the doorway. Tommy leaned against it, watching you with a small smirk on his face. 

"Just thought I'd check to see how you two fared," Tommy said. "Finn, how do you like her, eh?"

Finn slowly looked between Tommy and you, giving you a mischievous curl of his lip before he grinned and nodded at Tommy. 

"(Y/N)'s a good tutor, Tommy," he said as he stood from his seat. "I think I'm getting better already."

"Good good," Tommy nodded before he jerked his head to the side. "Off you go."

Finn looked back at you to be met with your grin and nod goodbye. He bound for the door and his brother, only to spin and take his hat off to look down at it in his hand. 

"Can you make lemon bars for tomorrow, miss (Y/N)?" 

You chuckled at the boy's attempt at propriety in front of Tommy. 

"Yes, Finn," you said smiling. "Read me chapter three and four tomorrow best you can and I'll send you home with the whole pan."

"Promise?" He said excitedly before elbowing Tommy. "We never get lemon bars at home."

You nodded and Finn spun around Tommy and ran out of the room, excited for the next chapters and his reward. Tommy stood like a statue leaning against the frame. 

"Did he mind well?" He asked, searching his pockets for a cigarette and light. He took his eyes off you to light the end, shuffling the lighter back into his pockets and blowing the smoke above his head. He quirked his head to the side as his eyes found yours again and he waited for your answer. 

"Finn was darling, Mr. Shelby," you said stiffly as you gripped your chair. "He will be an avid reader with wonderful comprehension in no time. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave for my own home."

He didn't move, so neither did you. 

"I've talked to my brothers, (Y/N)," he said. "Arthur couldn't pick you out of a crowd and John said you've only ever been professional with him despite his normal comments. Michael works in the office ten feet away and he says you are the only woman in the office that doesn't gossip and keeps to your work when the bosses aren't looking. I'm convinced the lot of them only heard you say 'Yes Mr. Shelby' or 'No Mr. Shelby.'"

You mirrored the tilt of his head with yours.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," you said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a reason you hate my family?" He said as he squinted his eyes. "Have we killed someone you love? Are you related to someone I'm not aware of? Or is it just me you actively despise?"

"Have you ever seen locusts swallow a field, Mr. Shelby?" You asked, meeting his eyes with the same intensity of a forest fire. "Without the right checks and balances, they'll decimate a field in a blink. You've swallowed Birmingham and you're already moving on to London."

"We've always made sure families were taken care of," he started. "Especially Birmingham families. And I've said to call me Tommy."

"In the aftermath, Tommy," you said as you stood up and went to grab your coat. "It's an afterthought. A reaction after your family hurts others. After your plans have consequences."

"And Finn is the only Shelby without blood on his hands, is that it?" He said as he kicked off of the doorway, taking up the exit as you stood under his gaze. 

You refused to flinch. You had been under a Shelby's nose your entire life, this wasn't new, just more literal than usual.

"Finn is a sweet boy that is willing to learn," you huffed. "I can find traits in all of you that I find admirable, but together you care for nothing but yourselves."

"Admirable traits, is it?" He said as he crossed his arms and raised his brow. "Do tell me. You've read enough books from the library I'm sure. Tell me about my family."

You faltered as your eyes went back to the ground and your tongue rushed to press against your teeth. 

"No," he stated simply as his hand tapped your chin to raise your eyes back to his. "I want to know. From a self-learned outsider, tell me about my family."

You sighed and rolled your eyes before you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

"Polly is strong but impulsive," you said quickly, as if reciting notes. "Arthur is obviously a sweet-hearted empathetic man that's been broken by his leaders and his vices to become the erratic explosive man he is today--"

Tommy scoffed as he raised his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Obviously," he said somewhere between a statement and a question. He waved his hand. "Go on."

"John wants the world handed to him on a platter and knows his charms and smile are the best way to get it. His aspirations barely go above women and drink. Ada, who I've seen rarely, is smart for wanting nothing to do with this operation. She tries to help those around her, from what I've heard of her in London. Michael was raised a nice village boy but has your ambition. I fear the day he actually gains power. And Finn is sweet and wants so badly for you to include him that he's willing to do anything. Dangerous for a young man his age."

"And?"

"And you," you exhaled tiredly. "Are very smart but your ego could suffocate anyone else in the room with you. Are you happy now? May I go?"

"No," he said as his arms dropped to his sides and he eyed you. His tone gentled to the point of startling you and you eyed him back. "You've noticed us, our strengths -- what you consider weaknesses--"

"Are weaknesses," you corrected as you crossed your arms and leaned on one hip to better look up at him. 

"Our weaknesses," he ground out. "Why?"

"You can't walk three steps in this town without hearing about a Shelby," you sighed. "You may not have noticed me but your family is impossible to avoid. Why do you think I work here? Better to work for the wolves than be preyed upon by them." 

"Is that some other latin phrase I should know?" 

Your smile held no joy as you watched Tommy Shelby finally remove himself from the doorway to let you pass. 

"No," you said as you stopped beside him and looked into his eyes one last time. "But here's one your family should learn if you ever want to stop ruling this town in fear: Ut ameris, amabilis esto."

"And that means?"

Your smile finally reached your eyes and you stepped out of the doorway. 

"You're a smart man," your mouth held in a tight line. "Look it up."

----

Tommy rolled his eyes and closed the door to his office behind her before he walked to his desk to put out his cigarette. He rummaged for another in his pocket and lit it. He inhaled slowly with his eyes closed before he sank into his chair and started shuffling the paperwork he needed to finish before he headed home. 

He looked at the door for a moment, knowing she would have been out the front door and walking through the city to get back to her place by now. He smiled softly as he leaned back and scoffed at the ceiling. He took another long drag of his cigarette and watched the smoke above him disappear. After a moment he finally leaned forward to work on his papers, pushing her and her words from his head. 

Once he got home, he nodded to the maid that greeted him and declined her offer for tea. 

"Not tonight, no thank you," he murmured as he moved silently through the house. 

He went into the study and poured himself a drink before he leaned on the shelf and looked back at his desk. The image of her leaning on it floated into his mind and he scoffed again, rolling his eyes at himself as if to shake her image away. 

Walking to the bookshelf that she had been looking through, he fingered a book out and sat down at his desk, taking a drink of his whiskey before he leafed through the pages. After quite some time, he chuckled and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He closed the book, chuckling to himself as he finished the whiskey he had forgotten about. 

"If you want to be loved, be loveable," he said softly.

----

The next few weeks went as they ever did. Other than the addition of working with Finn for an hour after work and the extra roll of money once a week at your desk, nothing seemed to have changed. You did your work, kept your head down, and thankfully the other Shelby's returned to ignoring you. 

You enjoyed your afternoons with Finn, and had easily made enough baked goods to fatten the boy up had he not been so active otherwise. He was always hungry and you had no problem feeding him as a reward as he progressed. He was quickly devouring the first book -- reading faster and more pages every day -- and you had happily picked out a few more books you thought he would enjoy that now waited in your desk drawer.

Tommy had been polite and distant, always out of his office before Finn appeared. One afternoon, you had walked into his empty office to see a note folded with your name on it. You looked at it, frozen for a moment, before you picked it up and opened it. It was a simple phrase, printed carefully. 

Amore et melle et felle es fecundissimus.

"Love is rich with honey and venom," you murmur with a smile. 

You slipped the paper into your pocket before you picked up a blank piece of paper and wrote your reply, Vincit qui se vincit. He conquers who conquers himself. You folded the paper and placed it on top of his seat as Finn came in. 

"Ready for today?" Finn asked, sitting down in his seat. "I bet we finish the book."

"I think you can," you answered with a smile as you rounded the desk to take your seat. "I have another I think you'll enjoy for after."

Finn opened the book to his marker and started reading. You allowed yourself a moment as you bit your lip, looking across the desk to Tommy's chair. Were you smart to play this game?

After that, a note appeared on your typewriter. You smiled when you opened the paper to read 'Aut viam inveniam aut faciam,' I will either find a way or make one. You scribbled your response, 'Malum consilium quod mutari non potest,' Bad is the plan that cannot change, and left it on his desk after your lesson with Finn. 

You continued passing Latin phrases back and forth every few days. Some of them were silly, others were motivational, but all of them had an undercurrent of a double meaning that you couldn't quite place. You both continued to be proper and professional with each other in person, but the cheeky Latin notes felt like they should be between two people far more close.

One afternoon, Finn showed up with a lopsided grin on his face. 

"Tommy told me to give you this," he said as he shoved the paper at you. "I tried to read it but that's not English, innit?"

You opened it carefully to read a scribbled 'Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.'

If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell.

You smiled. 

"No, it's not English," you said before playfully glaring at him. "What are you reading other people's notes for anyhow?"

Finn smiled sheepishly. 

"They never tell me nothin'," he said. "I wanted to know if it was about me."

You laughed. 

"It's not about you, Finn," you reassured. "Now, let's start your book."

An hour later, you hugged Finn bye. 

"Finn!" You called as you finished writing and folded the paper. "Give Tommy this."

"Tommy?" He questioned with a smile. "I think that's the first I haven't heard 'Mr. Shelby.'"

"Just give him the note, cheeky brat," you laughed. 

Finn stuck his tongue out at you and opened the note. 

"Desti-" he read and knotted his face, "destitutes vent--"

"Destitutus ventis, remos adhibe," you laughed. "It means 'if the winds fail you, use the oars.'"

"What's that even mean?"

"It's not your note, is it?" You taunted. "You don't need to know."

Days later, you found a note stuck under a bottle of wine in front of your door. You opened it, immediately recognizing the messy writing that had replaced the clean letters of the first few notes as time passed. 'Audentes fortuna iuvat,' Fortune favors the bold. You smiled and looked around to find no one. You brought the bottle in and locked the door behind you. 

You wrote your response, unsure of how to give it to him after the bottle of wine on your door. You held onto it, hoping you would find a perfect opportunity. 

----

"I don't think you'll need me anymore after today, Finn," you said as you hugged the boy one Friday months later. "You've read through that last book with no problems. Just keep reading and you'll be great."

"If I woulda known that, I wouldn't have read so fast," he frowned as he closed the book he just finished. "I liked seeing you in the afternoons. I even looked forward to it after the weekends."

You laughed. 

"You can still see me around and we can talk books if you like," you smiled. "Tell you what, you can come around on Sundays. I'll feed you lunch and you can tell me what you're reading, how's that sound?"

"You promise?" Finn asked as his eyes lit up. "Deal."

"Inviting Shelby's into your home now?" Tommy called from behind them at the doorway. "Did Finn break the Shelby curse and warm your heart?"

"Tommy," you said evenly. "I was just telling our Finn that he won't need me anymore, but he was welcome to talk books with me anytime."

"If you think he's done, I suppose it's done," he said. "Our Finn, run on home and we can talk about your future once I get there. I'll need a word with (Y/N)."

"Yessir," Finn said as he looked at Tommy's serious expression. He gave you a friendly smile and was out in a flash. 

"Thank you for the wine," you said quietly once Finn was gone.

"Thank you for getting my brother's reading up to speed," he said. "In only a few months, too. I should make my other brothers see you."

"I don't think they would be as receptive," you laughed and he smiled. 

"Probably not," he chuckled. 

"I haven't found a note knocking around my desk," he said, taking a step forward from the doorway as you stood from your chair. "Did I lose it?"

You watched him carefully, but couldn't help but smile. 

"No, Tommy," you said. "You haven't lost it."

"Tommy, you say," he teased as he stepped in front of you. "I've finally lost the chill of using proper names."

"Tends to happen when you trade notes like children. Or spies."

"Well?" He said as he smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Where's my note?"

You tilted your head to look up at him to properly meet his eyes. 

"Do you pour over them by candlelight, trying to decipher them with your books you hadn't read until I upset you in your study?" You teased, smiling up at him. "Do you look forward to my responses, desperate for the challenge?"

"I've not been desperate in a long time," Tommy said, looking over your face as he leaned closer. "But I do look forward to a challenge."

"Happy to give you one, then," you said, looking down to his soft lips before meeting his bright blue eyes. 

"Are you talking about yourself or my next latin phrase, (Y/N)?" He growled as his own eyes dipped to your lips, causing you to smirk. 

"Acta non verba, Tommy," you said as you circled around him and out the door. "Goodnight and have a good weekend, Mr. Shelby," you called as you walked away. "I'm sure it will be filled with dubious adventures and women who find criminal activity all too attractive."

----

One afternoon a few days later, Tommy called for you and Lizzie from his doorway, leaving the other ladies in fits of whispers as to what was going on. Lizzie and you both shared a look, cautiously walking together into Tommy's office. 

"Close the door," he waved at you as he sat down, "I need to speak with both of you."

You closed the door quietly and turned as Tommy sat behind his desk. He shuffled some paperwork and motioned for you both to sit. 

"Now," he said as he cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about investing, or rather creating, a foundation for the orphan children of Birmingham."

Lizzie immediately stiffened before she went to say something. 

"Now Lizzie is already bogged down with my other ventures," Tommy said as he spoke over her before looking at you. "And you have a good head on your shoulders as well as an eye for bullshit. This foundation is to be above board and not to be mixed with my other operations, and I'd like you to set it up and run it." 

"Me?" You stammered, "I don't--"

"Lizzie will help teach you the paperwork and such," he said as he leaned back with his hands on the desk. "I'll trust you to set it up and keep it running. You'll report directly to me about it, and hopefully it will do some good around our city. What do you say, (Y/N)?"

"I don't-- I'm speechless," you said, looking between Lizzie's shocked face and Tommy's cool expression. "I'm not sure I'm fit for the job."

"You're fit as much as anyone else," he said evenly. "I trust you'll make yourself an expert overnight with that brain of yours. That'll be all, ladies, I'll fill you in more as I gather the pieces."

Lizzie stood up and went to walk back out the door but you sat shocked, still looking at Tommy's placid face. 

"Why me?" You asked barely above a whisper. "Why not Polly or Ada or Lizzie?"

"Someone once told me 'deeds not words,'" he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I fully intend on living by that."

[beclynn-herondale]

hi! ❤ hope you are well, i'm so happy to know you liked my last robert analysis. it feels very safe and nice to write about him to you, so it makes me really glad that you're enjoying too. forgive me, it took me a while to write this one!

between the points you mentioned, what you said you think about his trauma got my attention first. what you think is right, and i thought it would be a good idea to help you with your conclusions if i explained robert's trauma in details.

to examine it closely, i separate robert's childhood trauma into three parts. i guess we could say he had three different childhood traumas. you probably remember it generally: rune experience, parents, and discrimination. each one was deeply connected to the others but had a different effect in some ways.

1- rune experience: it's kinda hard to people to understand what happened because its horribleness was complex. i'll try to summarize. it was robert's 12th birthday. first of all, robert was being burned alive non-stop. he wasn't having his flesh burned, he was something like "burning inside." how intense the pain was: it consumed his entire being, he lost the ability to think, the pain blocked any thought or memory he could have, so robert didn't know who he was, where he was or what was happening, because all his body/mind/soul were processing was the extreme pain. it was mortal pain, it was supposed to kill robert, he was supposed to die consumed but the burning pain. but it didn't. somehow, while he hadn't the ability to think or feel anything but pain, he had strenght to stay alive in pain instead of die. he was enduring something people shouldn't be able to survive to. in his state where his sould/mind was enduring differently of his body, there were demons, and they tortured robert physically and verbally. then, his family members appeared to him, basically saying he was worthless and should die. he really was supposed to be dead by then, and he could see it, he literally could see hell right waiting for him to finally expire. but it didn't happen. somehow he endured it. now, all of this, lasted one entire month. it's actually hard to imagine someone somehow enduring this for one entire month. i don't think any other character had to endure something like this, except maybe annabel. it's the worse i ever saw happen to a tsc character, it was an entire month. (it's very depressing how nobody could ever understand robert cuz no one else around survived something like this. annabel was tortured, buried alive and then painfully ressurrected, and went literally insane because of it.)

this had multiple consequences to robert. physically, he took a while to recover, but then it was stated his body was fine. the effects were mostly mental. after receiving his first rune, robert was supposed to continue his training, but he couldn't. other kids of his age were evolving their training, while he was doing nothing about it. he both hadn't the energy and couldn't do it, cuz he was afraid of steeles. something perfectly logical since a steele caused that month of agony. you know he eventually managed to learn to use steeles to be an actual shadowhunter. but it wasn't all.

the first rune is something normal that happens to all shadowhunters, and it's mostly something good. the way it was horrible to robert in a way no one could have expected, made robert develop extreme anxiety; because the worst happened to him triggered by something common. so while doing common things, robert would be always scared and anxious, thinking about the worst of the worst that could happen. while it wasn't much notable to other people, it harmed his development and behavior a lot, consequently harming his self-steem, cuz he couldn't do things right, he was always worried and overthinking everything.

to compensate it, robert became somebody who worked on two extremes: he was always overthinking everything, except in battle. in battle he wasn't what we define as brave i guess. he was fearless. valentine is the one who helped robert to achieve that. (we know his actual motivations, this isn't important now) the mental process valentine taught him was: robert's inherent fear and anxiety made him fail, and that made him despise himself (that's something robert does a lot for countless reasons). robert should not only embrace the fury he felt against himself, but it should dominate him, and he use its intensity to block his fear. then basically, robert should do a mental form of self harm, letting the strenght of his hate for himself take his mind and use this strenght to control his actions. robert's fury leading his actions, not his fear and anxiety. as expected with this process, robert then was able to engage in normal shadowhunter activities, but fearless when it came to physical risk. logically this would be very dangerous, but we can imagine how useful it was for valentine to have on his team a warrior like this who was such a big and strong man and centainly could take a lot of physical damage and pain (and i guess it shouldn't be any doubt that being so tough helped robert a lot to survive through the years). we know it was because of this robert felt he owed loyalty to valentine.

2- parents: first, something kinda interesting is that robert had other relatives and they were there when robert's first rune was made. we are informed that his state during that month of agony was a scandal and robert's parents were the ones being absurd. so we can assume his other relatives had nothing to do with it. another strong evidence is robert naming two of his children with names from his family, what indicates he didn't saw his entire family negatively. now his parents... let's never forget what happened to robert was supposed to kill him on incredible intense pain. andrew and phoebe deliberately let their child to die in pain so he wouldn't be a mundane. i personally classify them between the worst shadowhunters parents along with céline's, annabel's, valentine and tatiana.

after robert woke up, they (or anyone else) never cared to ask robert how he felt. all they wanted was to make everything seem normal, without caring about how robert was taking it. they never showed any regret about what they've done: they did the opposite of that, telling robert right on his face what they did and how they were sure that it was totally worth it to make him go through that to not be a mundane. it hurt (and traumatized) robert a lot.

love from parents and relatives is supposed to be the first love someone gets. and robert didn't have that. if his parents showed love to him on his first years alive, it never mattered because these two traumas mentioned made robert forget anything about his parents from before his first rune. he couldn't ever remember them as actual parental figures of love. the only parents he remembered and recognized were the ones who left him to endure that, looked proud of it and never cared about its effects on him afterwards. as far as it counted, robert lived a loveless childhood. as i mentioned, andrew and phoebe wanted everything to be as normal possible, so they just acted as robert's parents as if anything happened, but it was pointless and felt cold. after knowing what they did to him (what they let happen to him), knowing that they didn't actually love him as their child, robert couldn't have a bond with them, he couldn't even be comfortable around them. it's described that their presence was what intensified robert's loneliness the most. so he didn't spend much time around them, he stayed in his room.

without his parents' love, robert's first experience with love was when he was 13 years old, with michael. it was setting a standard of love to him, with the long-term consequences afterwards being devastating. (i guess someone could even connect robert not recognizing his parents affection with his future performance of fatherhood, but that would be mostly guessing and i rather work with things i can prove. another good guess i think would be connecting his loveless childhood to how robert during his teenagehood had messy limits between his love for michael and his affection for maryse and didn't know how to handle or recognize it. i mean mostly things like, if michael was robert's best friend/parabatai and maryse his romantic partner and probably future wife, why did robert see maryse and women in general as a threat to michael's place in his life and their parabatai and best friend relationship? he saw valentine having a parabatai he loved and a girlfriend he wanted to get married to, and still freaked out about a woman as his wife replacing michael who was his parabatai, what didn't make any sense. i know people joke about robert being "clueless" about michael but it isn't much funny with this context. finally, another guess would be connecting robert's discovery that his parents' love for him was faulty through they letting him hurt to his beliefs that what he did to michael proved his love for michael was faulty. you can deliberate about all of these conjectures if you want).

3- discrimination: before his first rune, robert had other kids to play with, but he wouldn't remember much of it. yeah, we can say robert doesn't remember anything about how he was treated by people before his first rune. robert doesn't know a life without trauma.

since what happened to robert was a political scandal, with everyone trying to save robert and his parents wanting him to keep his painful and mortal rune, what happened to him was kind of general knowledge. then, no kid wanted to play or train with him. at first he was still recovering, but then he couldn't move foward because he didn't have anyone. he didn't want to be around his parents' coldness and no one else wanted to be around him, quite literally. other people would be around him only when being forced, and then would stay the most distant of him possible, to never get physically close of him, as if to not catch a disease. this is absolutely dreadful to a child.

being treated like this hurt and traumatized robert terribly. being around any one was horrible, so he spent most of the time hidden in his room. not being able to improve on anything because of his fears and anxiety and not having anyone to train with or even to socialize with, and basically never being able to move on about what happened, robert hated to be alive and wished to be dead, wished the rune had killed him as it should have, because he thought no death could be worse than his life, so be dead would be better. this state of mind dured an entire year before michael came around. a lot of damage had been done by then.

being treated like he was "sick" and ostracized left a huge psychological wound on him. to him, discrimination was one of the worst things ever, for something that was never his fault and he never choose to.

(one may think that if robert hates discrimination, it doesn't make sense to him to dislike downworlders, but it actually does. all robert wanted was to be a normal shadowhunter, and he had deeper reasons than most to be passionate about being one. disliking downworlders would be an ideal average shadowhunter thing to do. but robert was far from ignorant. he didn't think downworlders were animals or demons and was far more inclined to defend downworlder segregation than downworlder extermination. of course segregation is something horrible in general and should never be defended, but with downworlders being different sub-species, it wasn't as absurd as the extermination valentine defended, and robert being actually smart and open minded, we know he actually changed his beliefs).

now, to him, one being discriminated by their peers was one of the worst things that could happen, and the perspective of being discriminated terrified and triggered robert deeply. we know the perspective of homosexuality freaks robert out because of the discrimination, marginalization and "anormality" experience that comes with it (and robert is a 60s kid and shadowhunter society is a conservative mess, so it would naturally seem so much more taboo to him), what scared him deeply. we see him getting extremely anxious over himself, michael and alec about the perspective of homophobic discrimination.

robert only started training with runes after his 14th birthday. his training was late, and between his 12th and 14th birthdays, half of the time was extremely traumatizing, the other half he spent most with michael (who helped him a lot about everything). but still, it was a very big share of his childhood-teenagehood and he didn't have the feeling or normality. everything i said about his anxiety over shadowhunting, specially over runes, applied intensely during his entire teenagehood, but robert went to the academy with michael where he was having normal training and final got to socialize a little. he loved so much to feel a little normal. he still felt like a weak and useless trash, but at least he was doing normal shadowhunting things and living like a teenager. the problem was: he wanted to live his entire teenagehood, and he just couldn't do that. training is supposed to end when shadowhunters are 18 years old. robert would stay at the academy until he was 19, and still didn't seem enough. while he was older than his fellows, he felt far less mature. much of his development time had been lost, and he would never get it back. in this context, it made very sense to robert's girlfriend be a younger girl and his admiration for a younger boy (valentine), and there were jokes about him being old, but what bothered robert the most was that he should soon live an adult man average life with wife and kids, when his perspective of life was being with michael in the academy. we also know how that went... and he married maryse when he was about 21/22 years old and maryse about 19.

forgive me for any grammar mistakes. i think this summary can help a lot! at least i hope it's useful to you or anyone else who read it! writing it was very thoughtful (and it's really a huge joy for me to explain things about robert, if you haven't guessed) and i hope to start working on my next ask soon

xoxo, take care of yourself, kind fellow ☺ thank you for your attention

First of all,. I'm sorry for getting to this late.

Second, I don't think I need to add anything. This is written very well, and gave me a deeper understanding.

And I am once again saying: let Shadowhunters get help with their trauma 😭

Also, TSC has a lot of bad parents. But it sadly represents real life 😔

Thank you for taking the time to write this out. I enjoyed reading it. And I agree with a lot that was said.

[ziracona]

Hello! I have always believed that Michael needed better doctors and good treatment. He was simply billed as "Evil". Sometimes I think that at that time they were unaware or ignorant of mental illness, and that is why Michael did not recover. I wish it had been treated better. I would like to know your opinion about it ;v;

Oh, absolutely. Michael is a very tragic character, and what happened to him was almost entirely Loomis’ fault, secondarily the system and his parents’, and like onyl 0.8% his own. It’s true that mental health aid has historically been really bad in most places, and even today treatment and acceptance—even in specifically medical settings—tend to be abysmal. Of course people knew less than they do now about how psychological stuff works, but bias, cruelty, and superstition as well as a system that enables and even to degrees outright encourages that is to blame for the awful treatment people woth mental illnesses and personality disorders faced and continue to face, not just a lack of knowledge, and the history is really heavy and awful to look over. : ( It’s horrific some of the things doctors have done and do to people just trying to get help.

Like, in Michael’s case, we’ve had a name and understanding of psychosis since the 1800s. Canonically, by the time the poor kid was six years old, he was hearing voices telling him to do bad things to people. He told his parents, seeking help, and they did nothing to help him—just told him it was his imagination—despite knowing hos grandfather had suffered the same symptoms. If they had only taken him seriously and given him therapy and possibly medication too, Judith never would have died. (I am not goong to say it every time, but all this information is official canon) Michael’s reason for killing his family members is wanting the vocies talking to him to be quiet, because it’s agonizing. If you’ve ever had intrusive thoughts (stuff like “pull into oncoming traffic” or “break that and see what happens” and such that don’t actually compell or force you to do it at all, and are always things you as a person deeply do not want to do, but nevertheless are really annoying or distressing to hear in your head), imagine that cranked up to 1000, endless and constant, but from voices that seem to come from around you instead of in your head. Especially as a young child, with no understanding what is happening to you, this would be incredibly scary and distressing—doubly so when dismissed by your parents, whose sole job is supposed to be to love and protect you.

The voices say they’ll be quiet if Michael kills Judith, so Halloween night, he does. Important to note here Michael is recently six years old at the time, which developmental psych literally is not old enough to have a complete understanding what death itself is, let alone complex morality. You /cannot/ be evil at six, you simply don’t have a complex enough understanding of right and wrong or of consequence to /be/ evil. Also at this age, usually kids see death as a vague concept, but one that applies to people they don’t know only, not to them and their loved ones. In Halloween 1978, immediately after stabbing Judith, Michael looks away while he keeps doing it, and his breathing speeds up in a scared way. He barely looks at the body, and immediately goes down stairs to wait for his parents—probably for them to fix it—and does nothing to flee or hide what he’s done. He looks traumatized when they take his mask off. (Lots of little notes here like that Judith when she sees him seems annoyed but not very, and when he attacks her, tries to shield herself and call to him to stop, rather than fleeing or fighting back, which [appealing instead of fight or flight] is pretty exclusively something you only would use if attcked by someone you are on good terms with—I mean, Michael is six—if Judith had /tried/ to fight back, no way she would have died—so there’s less than nothing to indicate they had anything but a loving familial sibling relationship. But if I list all these I’m gonna launch into my six page Michael Myers meta so I will speed through the rest.)

Anyway! Sorry, I have many feelings. About...everything. Including Michael for sure. So, immediately after killing Judith, Michael stops talking. He also shows other psychosis and trauma readily recognized side effects, like catatonia, slowed movement. In Halloween 1978c Dr. Loomis claims he tried to treat Michael for eight years, then spent another seven trying to keep him locked up because he realized he was evil. This is a /blatant/ lie, as in film canon Loomis, by Michael’s review hearing I believe four months in? Six or less for sure, I believe it is four. Loomis has /already/ become convinced Michael is a demon in human form, faking his symptoms, and itching to kill again. The other doctors think Loomis is crazy, as does the other doctor who examines Michael, but they’re awful people so they let him stay Michael’s doctor anyway, even though they refuse to move him to Litchfield maximum security. By this time only a few months in, Loomis is canonically also threatening the six year old in his care and constantly telling him he is an evil being who wants to get out and terrorize again. (Also, I will die enraged the sentance Michael gets for killing Judith is to remain locked in solitary in a sanitorium for /15/ years, until he turns 21, at which point he will be tried as an adult for murder??? The fuck?? You CANNOT charge a 6 year old’s crime in adult court! ‘Tried as an adult’ is meant for like, when a 17 year old dismembers their family and eats them! It’s for particularly heinous crimes, committed by someone /very/ close to being legally an adult, and that /only/. The idea of waiting fifteen years to try someone as an adult for something done at age six is laughable and sick).

Okay this is already long, I get carried away rip. Uhhh, anyway, yeah. In Smith’s Grove, Michael is visited by mom and Laurie once, then never sees any of his family again, because his dad hates him and forbids the others—finds out because Laurie is four and talks that they went /one/ time, and physically beats four year old Laurie for mentioning his name until she trauma blocks out ever having had a brother. From then on, Michael spends /fifteen/ years and all the dest of his developmental stages of childhood in a sanitorium with Dr. Loomis—a man who on wild religious superstition grounds assumes by his own admission /on sight/ that Michael is evil, and no other human contact. According to canon, Michael spends at least four hours of /every/ day with Loomis, his /only/ human contact, who threatens him, promises to stop him, and endlessly barrages him with “You’re evil, you’re not human, you want to kill again, I /will/ stop you,” and nothing else. He also canonically keeps Michael overdosed on a type of antipsychotic that, while a fine drug if used normally, if overdosed can deeply worsen symptoms, and can cause permanent brain damage.

Honestly, if a six year old is exposed yo major trauma, none of their issues are explained, legitimized, or believed, and almost all of their developmental stage is spent with endless voices they don’t know the cause of suggesting murder and violence, one human being and authority figure telling them over and over and over for fifteen years with no other constant in their life or human contact period that they are a demon in human form who wants to kill and is /going/ to do so again...? How else was that story ever going to end? I’ve said it before, but that’s beyond conditioning; it’s lab growing a human child to one day walk out and murder Laurie Strode with a large kitchen knife.

I stand by Halloween is a greek tragedy more than a slasher, and Michael and Laurie are both victims. He’s the Asterios, she’s the Ariadne. Loomis the Minos, the real villain. (Or the Poseidon choose your poison).

Anyway, I 100% agree! If he had just gotten help from his parents, Judith would have never died. If he’d had good doctors, none of the events of 1978 would have come to pass, or anything after it. Loomis single-handedly causes the deaths in 1978 himself through years of cruelty, and bigoted bias towards a small child in his care who needed his help, not his abuse, but he chose to break as much as he possibly could despite his responsibilities as a doctor, an adult, and a human.

If you’re interested, I did a canon-deep-dive character study short story on Michael on AO3! Halloween is such a sad story but it’s fascinating. God, poor Michael and Laurie deserved so much better than they got. It’s a testament to Michael’s character that even after 15 years of Dr. Loomis, he really only kills his intented target(s) in search of quiet from the voices, and anyone who sees him/would be a threat, and not other people. Makes no attempt to kill any of the kids in Halloween 2018, and only kills Bob when he literally opens the door to his hiding spot and Michael is found and Bob becomes a threat to him. In H20, after Michael has had 20 years on his own, you get arguably the least brutal Michael, who intentionally passes on killing the mother and child, and the security guard he walks right past, because they don’t see him and thus he doesn’t /have/ to. Halloween II is less intentionally avoiding, but even then he still does the same multiple times too, like with the old lady making a sandwich, or the scene in the incubator room. Anyway he desevered better fuck Loomis all my homies hate Loomis.

[itsadamcole]

you’re not broken

fem!reader x kyle o’reilly

reader and Kyle go back to reader’s home in Philadelphia for Christmas. little does Kyle know that reader’s mother isn’t the nicest person .... “i promise you that you’re not broken”

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: angst, mentions of death / plane crash, verbal assault, fluff

— day 3 in a row ... out of (hopefully) 25 —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 2

***

You smile as you walk up to the front door of your childhood home. Your boyfriend's hand in yours. You hope to God that your parents and siblings will be nice to you. Maybe because Kyle is here then they might.

Christmas at home hasn't been the same since your older sister's plane crash. It's been two years but since the year after she died, your family hasn't been treating you like they used to. They've started comparing you to your sister that passed, telling you that you'll never be like she was, telling you that you'll never achieve the same success that she did in WWE.

It hasn't been the same since she died. You miss your sister. You were best friends and tag partners. She was so understanding when Kyle asked you to join the Undisputed Era and was so supportive when you had a storyline against her after you joined the Undisputed Era.

Kyle knows about some of what your family has said to you, but he doesn't know about what they've said about you and comparing you to your sister.

Speaking of Kyle, he senses you're nervous even though you have a smile on your face. He tightens his grip on your hand and he says, "Relax, Y/N. If they say something to you then I'll make sure to say something back to them. No one hurts my girl without consequences."

You look up at Kyle and say, "You're the best." You smile.

Kyle smiles down at you and pecks your lips before you knock on the door.

There is shuffling behind the door as you smooth out the front of your dark red dress and move closer to Kyle.

Your younger sister, who is thirteen years old, answers the door. "Y/N! You're here!" she says happily.

"Hey, shortie," you say, laughing. "You're not exactly short anymore, are you. You're almost as tall as me. Have you grown since I last saw you?"

She giggles and says, "It's been a little bit since you've seen me, Y/N. Come home more often." Her giggles stop and she starts to pout.

You hug your younger sister and say, "I would love to come home but I have a title to defend." You look at Kyle. He smiles at you.

Ever since your parents changed their attitude toward you, you've stayed away from Philadelphia. You've been staying with Kyle in Orlando to be close to the Performance Center and Full Sail. You haven't been back home since July and it's now December. Your sister turned thirteen in the time you've been away.

"I know," your younger sister says. "I just miss you."

You kiss the side of your sister's head and say, "I miss you too. You can always come down to Florida. I'll even buy you a plane ticket if you want to come visit. Maybe get Y/B/N to come with you since he's 18."

Your older sister was almost 30 when she died. You're 28. There's a ten year difference between you and your brother and your youngest sister is 13.

Y/S/N says, "If Mom and Dad will let me go. They've been strict since the accident and they won't even let us get on a plane."

"I'll talk to them tonight," you say. "Maybe you guys can come spend New Years with Kyle and I."

Kyle nods and says, "The boys will be there too with their girlfriends and wives but we'd love to have you come down, Y/S/N."

She smiles and says, "Yay." Your sister skips inside the house and you sigh, looking up at Kyle.

"Are you naturally that good with kids or what?" you ask.

Kyle laughs and says, "Naturally that good."

You smile and reach up, pressing a kiss to Kyle's lips. You walk into the house holding Kyle's hand.

"Mom!" you call. "I'm here!"

Your mom says, "In the kitchen, sweetheart!" You walk into the large kitchen. You're greeted with the smell of roast beef as soon as you walk into the kitchen.

Y/B/N sits at the kitchen island with Y/S/N and they're playing something on Y/B/N computer. You run up behind your brother and attack him with a hug from behind. "Hey, baby bro," you say.

"Jesus, Y/N," he gasps. "You scared me and I'm trying to win as imposter."

That's when you realize he's playing Among Us. You see his name in red. "Ooh," you giggle. "Let me in at some point tonight. I wanna kick you ass."

You, Kyle, and your siblings laugh. You mother scolds, "Y/N! Language please."

"Ass isn't a bad word, mother," you sigh. "Relax."

Kyle looks at you then looks at your mom, who says, "You know such language is not allowed in this house."

You roll your eyes and say to your brother, "I'll play after dinner, if I'm still here."

Your brother nods and you take Kyle's hand, leaving the kitchen and walking into the living room. Your dad sits on the couch with wrestling on the TV.

"Hi, daddy," you smile, kissing the top of his head. "What are you watching?"

Your dad smiles and say, "Hi, pumpkin. I'm watching one of Shawn Michaels' old matches."

You sit beside your dad and Kyle sits beside you. "Nice to see you again, Mr. L/N," Kyle says.

"You too, Kyle," your dad says. "Is there a match the two of you would like to watch?"

Kyle says, "How about Randy Orton versus Drew McIntyre at Hell in a Cell? That match was amazing."

You dad says, "I agree. It's such a good match." He puts it on. "You have good taste in matches, Kyle."

He laughs and says, "Y/N and I have very similar taste in matches. We both like the matches that involve cells or weapons. Y/N likes tables."

"They're the worst to go through in real life but it's fun to watch other people go through them," you say.

Your dad laughs and says, "Your sister liked table matches too. She said the same thing. They were a pain to go through but she loved watching them."

Your mood tanks at the mention of your sister. Kyle notices this and takes your hand. You rest your head on his shoulder and watch Drew lose his title to Randy.

It's close to twenty minutes later before your mother calls, "Dinner!"

Your dad gets up, walking to the dining room. You look up at Kyle and you say, "Whatever they say, either ignore it or just let me handle it, okay?"

Kyle says, "I'm jumping in if it looks like you need help. I'm serious."

You nod and walk into the dining room with Kyle. Your mother is serving your father dinner. A lot sits out on the large table. A plate with cut up roast beef, corn sits in a bowl, mashed potatoes right next to the corn, biscuits, green beans, and a bowl of mac n' cheese all sit on the table.

You help yourself to some mac n' cheese and say, "Dinner looks amazing, Mom."

"Thank you, Y/N," she says. Her voice is cold. Obviously she's still mad about you saying the word 'ass' in front of her.

Kyle grabs some roast beef and takes a bit. "Mhm," he hums. "This is the best roast beef I've had in a long time."

You smile and say, "Mom slow roasts it in the oven. It takes all day but so worth it." Kyle smiles and takes another bite.

Y/S/N says, "Mom, can Y/B/N and I spend New Years in Florida with Y/N and Kyle?"

Mom looks at you then at your sister before asking, "How do you plan on getting back here, Y/S/N?"

You look at your mom and say, "I can accompany them back. Kyle and I leave in two days to go back to Orlando so we can just book Y/S/N and Y/B/N seats on the same flight as Kyle and I."

"Please, Mom?" your sister pleads.

"Yeah, please?" your brother chimes in.

Your mom looks at your siblings and says, "You both know how I feel about planes. They crash."

Your sister gets a sad look on her face and you say, "It's very rare, Mom. I've flown plenty of times."

"You were supposed to be on the flight that Y/OS/N was on," your mother snaps. "You realize that, right?"

A pang of hurt hits you in the chest and you say, "I'm well aware but it's not my fault that the plane crashed, Mom."

Your mother looks at you from across the table and says, "It should've been you on that plane, Y/N. Instead it was your sister, who actually made this family proud."

Kyle says, "Woah, okay. Mrs. L/N, that's not fair on Y/N's part. She had no idea that the plane would crash."

Tears well up in your eyes and you say, "I make this family proud too, Mom. I've held tag titles, I currently hold the only women's singles title in NXT. I'm in a group that has made history in NXT. I've made history with Y/OS/N as longest reigning and most reigns as WWE Women's Tag Team champion."

Your mother says, "Your sister held the Raw Women's title for a record breaking 450 days. How long have you held the NXT Women's title for?"

"348 days, and counting," you spit at her. "I'm only behind her by 100 days, which I plan on breaking. Then I plan on breaking Asuka's longest reign of 510 days just to prove to you that I can do every fucking thing that Y/OS/N did!"

Your mother's eyes widen and she says, "Curse one more time in my house and you will never be allowed back in."

You stare at her and say, "Fine. Fuck you, Mom. Fuck you for ever comparing me to Y/OS/N and fuck you for never being proud of me even though I've achieved the same success as she did." You look at your siblings. "Go upstairs and pack a suitcase. I'm taking you two with me."

They nod and run upstairs. You slam your silverware down on the table and you stand up. Your mother says, "That is not how you talk to your mother, Y/N."

You cry, "You have not been my mother since my sister died. Not the way that you've been treating me."

As you walk away, you hear Kyle say, "She's grieving too. She knows that it should have been her too, and she'll carry that with her for the rest of her life. She doesn't need her mother of all people telling her that it should've been her in the plane instead of Y/OS/N. Her sister was her best friend and she lost a lot that day too."

Your sister and brother walk down the stairs and you look at them. Your sister runs to you and hugs you. Your brother hugs you too. You hug them back.

Kyle walks out into the foyer and you look up at him. He says, "Come on. I'll change our flights to tonight and we can be down in Florida by midnight. We'll buy Y/S/N and Y/B/N some clothes when we get back to Orlando."

You nod, leaving the house with Kyle and your siblings.

***

It's right after midnight when you, Kyle, and your siblings get back to the house you share with Kyle.

You moved in with Kyle about six months ago after a year or so of dating. The house is three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and two floors. You sigh as you walk in the door.

Kyle sets your siblings up in the guest bedrooms as you go and lay in your bedroom. You finally change out of the dress and get into one of Kyle's shirts. You curl into a ball and let out what you've been holding in.

Your face is in your pillow and your makeup is being cried off your face.

The door to the bedroom closes and Kyle sighs, "Your siblings are in bed and they're both all set up in their rooms."

You sit up and look at Kyle. He looks at you and his face falls. He grabs a box of tissues and you say, "I'm a mess, I'm sorry." You take a tissue and wipe your makeup stained tears away.

"You're okay," he says, sitting next to you. "It's okay to cry, Y/N. You don't have to be strong every day, especially after what you have been through."

You crawl over onto Kyle's lap and say, "I feel broken, Kyle. I have since my sister died in that plane crash. I feel like I haven't healed at all."

"Hey," Kyle says. "I promise you that you're not broken, Y/N. You're sad, you're grieving, but you're not broken."

You start to cry softly and say, "I miss her, Kyle. Why couldn't it have been me instead of her?"

Kyle says, "Don't say that. Please don't. I need you here. Your sister and your brother need you here. The WWE Universe needs you here. Adam, Roderick, and Bobby need you here. Don't let your mother tell you otherwise."

You look up at Kyle. He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. You say, "I love you, Kyle. I'm so in love with you."

Kyle smiles at you and says, "I love you too, Y/N. I need you here. Selfishly, a part of me is glad you were on that plane because I don't know what I would do without you."

You lean in and press a lingering kiss to his lips. Kyle kisses you back before he pulls back and says, "Marry me."

"Kyle," you say, meeting his eyes.

He says, "I'm serious. Marry me. You can come to my family's house in Canada for holidays, we can spend the rest of our lives doing this. I love you, and I want to start a family with you."

You don't hesitate to nod and say, "Yes. I'll marry you, Kyle."

Kyle smiles and kisses you. You smile into the kiss. You smile for real for the first time in a very long time.

That smile doesn't leave your lips as you lay with Kyle in bed, cuddles up to him. He holds you in his arms and your legs are intertwined with his.

His fingers run through your hair. Your eyes are closed and he says, "I don't have a ring yet, by the way. I didn't even know that I was going to propose until I did."

You giggle and say, "We'll go ring shopping eventually. I just want to lay with you right now."

Kyle shifts a bit and gets comfortable. You smile and begin to doze off.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Kyle whispers. "I forgot to tell you at midnight."

You mumble, "Merry Christmas, Kyle."

Then you fall asleep.

[marril96]

Hopefully Forever

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A misunderstanding between friends leads to conflict and jealousy.

A/N: Based on a prompt by the lovely Loveless00 from AO3. AU, set post 15x03.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

The atmosphere in the Bunker was dark, somber, as if the sky had turned gray and poured down a never-ending stream of rain. There was no usual chatter, no inappropriate jokes and the barking of laughter you usually found immensely annoying and now yearned for. Yearned for normalcy because this was not normal, far from it, and you hated it.

Unease roiled in your stomach like a whirlpool, your shoulders tense with discomfort. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go home, far away from the gloominess, though, at this point, you were certain it would follow you anywhere you went.

Jack was dead. The rupture to Hell had been closed. Runaway ghosts returned to their rightful place. There was a problem with Belphegor absorbing the souls and attempting to make himself god, but that, too, had been dealt with. The fight was intense, brutal. It had taken a lot out of everyone. By the time you, Rowena, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had arrived at the Bunker, you were all collectively exhausted.

The sun was bright in the sky the entire trip, shining in your eyes even as you leaned on Rowena's shoulder and closed your eyes in a feeble attempt to rest them. Clouds were pearly white, sky the brightest, most beautiful blue. There was irony in that, as if God himself were playing an elaborate joke.

Given what you'd found out these past few days, you wouldn't put it past him.

An attempt at celebration was made, whiskey taken out and offered, but no one was in a party mood. Least of all Sam and Dean. It was understandable; they'd only just lost a boy who's been a son to them. Lost him to a man — a being — they trusted, only to end up betrayed. Who would have thought God, of all people, could be evil?

You were never a big fan, but that one time you'd met him years ago he seemed nice enough. Friendly. Nowhere near evil. Amara had been right back then (well, aside from the whole ending the world thing). You'd teamed up with the wrong deity.

"You alright?" you asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few hours.

Rowena, exhausted, eyes framed with midnight crescents as if she'd been struck, gave a small nod. "Aye."

You could tell she wasn't, though, given everything that happened, she was as okay as she could be. The fight had taken a toll on her. At one point, when all hope seemed lost at defeating Belphegor, she'd offered a sacrifice of her life, but you were quick to put a stop to it. Before Sam could even consider acting on their fate, you'd made it clear she wasn't dying — and, if she somehow did, Sam would be joining her soon after. Knowing you meant every word, she dropped the subject.

Accidents were one thing. But no matter how much you appreciated Sam for all he'd done for Rowena, how kindly he'd treated her, you would never let him live if he were to take her from you on purpose. Even if she were to give her blessing. You weren't going to lose her; not again, and certainly not for good. Not without consequences.

In the end, through everyone's joint efforts, Belphegor had been taken care of. Without a single life lost.

You squeezed Rowena's hand and pulled her to stand closer. Sitting in a chair, your head perfectly fit against her stomach. She let you nestle, her other hand caressing first your cheek and then your scalp.

"Are you?" she asked in that gentle tone that was so unlike her, that she reserved only for when the two of you were alone. Considering no one paid you any attention, you might as well be.

"Yeah. Just tired."

You would have headed straight home, but Lawrence was closer than the town you were in, so you decided to hitch a ride with the boys.

"We'll go home soon," Rowena said.

"Mmhm," you mumbled, comfortable despite the unpleasant fabric of her dress. You'd told her it was a ridiculous thing to get changed into, amidst a fight no less, but there was no changing her mind.

"We should have a toast," Sam suddenly said, startling you from your thoughts. He raised his glass of whiskey. "For Jack."

Everyone followed almost automatically, glassed up in the air.

"For Jack," Dean said, gulping the entire glass.

"For Jack," Castiel said with a nod, not one for drinks.

Rowena, too, joined in. "For Jack."

As did you. "For Jack."

The drink burned at your throat. You set your glass aside, face scrunched at the unpleasant taste.

Rowena, the experienced Scot, downed hers without issue.

"He was a good kid," Sam said. "We… we couldn't have asked for better."

That he was. You were no fan of kids, but there was something about Jack that made you like him. He was just… sweet. Kind. Good-natured, despite his parentage. Even after he'd lost his soul, he'd tried to do good. He'd done bad things, had made bad choices, but never intentionally. Never maliciously.

"He wasn't perfect, but he was our son," Sam said, eyes red with tears. "We loved him."

"That we did," Dean agreed, refilling his glass and gulping the contents.

Rowena's eyes prickled, almost as crimson as Sam's. You squeezed her hand in comfort. She wasn't the boy's biggest fan initially, but all it took for her to fall in love with him were a few kind words and a smile. He'd won her over in an instant. She would never admit to it, but you could tell she saw a bit of Fergus in him. The son she'd lost, that she'd abandoned. The son she would never forgive herself for not being able to see grow up.

Jack had lost his soul in order to get Michael out of her. In a way, she felt responsible. No matter how many times you assured her it wasn't her fault, she was adamant she bore part of the blame.

"He'll never be forgotten," Castiel said.

"No," Sam said, tears falling down his face. "He will not. We'll never…" He put his glass down. Gulped. Sucked in a breath.

"Sam?" Dean inquired, worried.

Shaking his head, Sam rushed past him. Past Castiel, and you, and Rowena, and up to the bedrooms.

Your heart clenched. Poor man. He'd tried so hard to save Jack, had fought so hard, only to lose him when he least expected it. It wasn't fair.

As you'd come to know in these past few years, life was rarely, if ever, fair. Fate, a cold-hearted bitch, had a tendency to strike the blindside. Sneak up like a criminal and hit where it hurt the most.

"I've got this," Rowena said when Dean started after his brother, holding her hand up to stop him. She lowered her glass next to yours and told you, "I'll be back in a flash, love."

A kiss to your scalp, and she was gone.

It made sense that she, of all people, would talk to Sam. It was him that had noticed she was hurting after her ordeal at Lucifer's hands. It was him that had given her a safe space to talk about it, and had, for the first time ever, opened up about his own trauma. It was him that had first given her a chance, when his brother had thought her nothing but a wicked villain.

The two of you loved each other, truly, deeply, but you could never understand her the way Sam did. It was a blessing, in a way; you'd never suffered the way they had, had never experienced that kind of agony. But you would be lying if you said you didn't wish you could comprehend it.

Now that Sam had lost a son, it was yet another thing the two of them had in common. Yet another thing you couldn't relate to.

Another blessing, as far as you were concerned, and, at the same time, a curse. Because, instead of being here, holding your hand, letting you lean on her, letting you feel her, she was there with him. You'd almost lost her mere hours earlier, and she was with him.

It was a selfish thought, and you instantly chastised yourself for it. She'd gone to comfort a friend, as he had in the past. She didn't have to spend every waking moment with you.

It wasn't healthy to want her to.

But, in some strange way, you were already missing her.

*****

Rowena walked in without waiting for a response for her knock and tenderly closed the door behind her. Sam was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, face hidden in his hands. If he took notice of her presence, he didn't show it. Didn't make a sound, a single gasp or a groan.

"Samuel?" Rowena said softly. The same way he'd said her name back when he'd decided to approach the issue of Lucifer, when he'd noticed she was hurting.

He was the one hurting now, and she wanted to return the favour.

You'd been there for her since day one and she appreciated it immensely. You'd held her hand, held her as she cried and wept and sobbed. You'd woken to her screams countless times in the middle of the night and whispered sweet nothings until she'd felt safe again. You'd stood by her, comforted her, loved her at her very worst, at her ugliest. Had never once given up on her, no matter how hard it was. No matter how bad the memories of her horrifying death had hit her.

You'd been there through it all.

But you didn't understand. You couldn't, having never endured anything remotely like it. Rowena was grateful for that, had hoped you would never even come close to understanding what she'd been going through. What she was still, even years later, going through.

Sam, on the other hand, knew exactly what it was like. He'd experienced Lucifer's cruelty first hand. Even though they were enemies, he didn't hesitate to offer her advice, to extend a helping hand. For a hunter, the man was kind to a fault. He'd had no issue talking to her about his experiences. Had no qualms about answering her calls when she couldn't fall asleep and didn't have the heart to wake you — and why would she? As much as you wanted to help, you didn't get it. You would — Rowena hoped; gods, she hoped — never get it.

Sam did. He had advice. A listening ear. Just hearing that soft "I know" every time she'd describe a new nightmare, a new feeling of dread, made Rowena feel better. Made her feel less alone for there was someone else out there, someone just like her.

Were it not for you and Sam, she doubted she would have managed to keep her sanity.

"Everything's fine," the hunter muttered, wiping at his face with his calloused hands. "I'm fine."

Just like she was fine after Lucifer. He might fool his brother with that nonsense, but Rowena knew better. She knew him better.

"Bottling it up will only make it worse," she said.

She would know; she'd kept her emotions in, had forced herself to not react, to not feel, until she got her power back and decided she couldn't — didn't want to — keep it in anymore. Until she'd exploded, literally, at Death herself.

"When I lost Fergus…" She gulped. Swallowed down a rush of sadness, of guilt that still ate at her like acid. Of all the things she'd done, she would never forgive herself the wrong she'd done her son. "When I heard of his demise, I completely lost my direction. And, well, you know how that went down."

She still wanted him back. Gods, she wanted it. Wanted her second chance. Hated herself, this world, God himself because she would never get it.

"It's okay to feel."

It was something you always told her, drilled into her, despite her conviction against it, until it stuck. She'd spent so much time, so many centuries, not feeling, that feeling was scary. It chilled her bones. It hurt. But it was necessary. It was what made her human.

"Jack was a lovely boy." The loveliest. Rowena wasn't a fan until she'd met him, until he spoke so kindly to her and gave her that smile that melted all the ice in her heart. Unlike what she'd thought, he was nothing like his father. He was a good person. A good boy. Another child she'd allowed herself to care for and lost because that appeared to be her curse. "You raised him well."

Sam raised his head. Allowed himself a sliver of a smile. "He was a good kid."

"He was," Rowena agreed. "You did your best for him."

The hunter shook his head. "It wasn't enough. He's still…"

He's still dead.

"You can't save everyone, Sam," Rowena told him.

"He was my son! I should've…" More tears fell. He wiped at them with his sleeve. "I should've done more."

Carefully, Rowena stepped towards him. Laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You were there for him." Unlike her with Fergus. "You cherished him. You loved him." The things she didn't allow herself to do until it was too late. Until it didn't matter anymore. "Wherever he is now, I'm sure he appreciates it."

Unlike Fergus, Jack went to his death loved. He wasn't alone; in his few short years of life, he'd never been alone. He'd never been abandoned.

Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah. I just… He should be here. He didn't deserve to die."

"Children never do," Rowena said. Not even when they were centuries old and rulers of Hell. No parent wanted to lose their child.

Sam looked up at her, wounded puppy eyes meeting hers. Devastated. Broken. "Rowena, what am I supposed to do?"

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She'd asked you the same thing once, a sobbing, shaking mess in your arms, guilt rummaging her from the inside out. "Keep living," you'd told her. "He'd want you to." And she did. No matter how much it hurt, she kept on living. She allowed herself to smile again, to laugh. To feel joy, even as grief was tearing her apart.

She didn't have to forget Fergus to move on.

She just needed to accept that he was gone.

"Keep living," Rowena said. "Jack wouldn't want you to suffer, would he? Keep him here." She brushed her hand against his scalp. "And here." Then his heart. "But don't let these feelings hold you down. You're a survivor, Sam Winchester. So survive."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Easier said than done."

"Och, aye. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."

It was hard, but he could do it. Just like she had done it. She'd fought tooth and nail for it; fought herself, her heart, but in the end she'd managed to get her life back as much as she could.

A fresh batch of tears spilled from Sam's eyes. In a trembling voice, he muttered, "I miss him."

"Och, dear, I know." Rowena squeezed his shoulder in comfort. "I know."

His arms were suddenly around her waist, and, before she could react, he buried his face in her stomach and wept. A giant of a man, and he wept like an inconsolable child. Tears drenched the fabric of her dress, the cold brushing over her skin.

Rowena stood still, startled. Unsure how to respond. It was one thing when it was you, but this was Sam. Big, strong Sam. The fearless hunter. Her best — and only — friend in the world.

"It's okay, Sam," she said, patting his back. Rubbing gentle circles over it.

She let him hold onto her. Let him cry his eyes out and drench her dress. Let him seek comfort the way she'd sought his. He was fragile, a porcelain doll of a man. Easy to crumble. Trying his hardest not to, even as cracks enveloped his body.

Losing a child was the hardest thing a parent could endure. Even centuries earlier, when she'd forbid herself from loving Fergus, when she'd left him without a shred of regret, the news of his — first, human — death had pierced her heart like nothing before ever had. It was one thing to leave him, one thing to know he was among the living, but to find out he was no longer there? That he no longer breathed the same air, walked the same earth, looked at the same moon? It was too much even for the cold, heartless Rowena.

Losing him two years ago had hit twice as hard. This time she'd allowed herself to feel… something. Love, she'd realized, much too late. The thing that used to scare her, that she'd thought made her weak. She loved him now — she really did, more than she thought she was capable of. The way she should have loved him when he was a child. She'd gotten a second chance, and she'd managed to blow it.

It only made her miss him more.

Despite the hardened man he'd grown into, Fergus had been a gentle child. He was soft spoken, shy. Had loved to be held. Preferred to curl up against her rather than sleep on his own cot, no matter how cruel she was. No matter how much she hurt him.

Rowena would never forgive herself for not doing right by him.

Sam, at the very least, had that in his favour. No matter what, he'd never given up on Jack. Had never hurt him. Even when it was hard, when Jack had lost his soul and did horrible things, Sam never stopped loving him.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sam pulled away and started rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed of falling apart in the arms of a person he never thought he'd get to call his friend. "I didn't mean to, you know…"

"It's fine," Rowena shrugged him off. Put on a friendly smile. "Good thing you didn't off me, isn't it?"

The hunter gave a small smile. "Definitely."

They joked about it now, but, at the time, Rowena was more than willing to put her life on the line. After all, everything fit — a demon mad with hunger for power, Sam, her. The prophecy fate had foretold, of her death at his hands. It was perfect. It was magic. And, if there was anything Rowena believed in, it was magic.

Had you not stepped in, had Dean and Castiel not found another way, things would have played out as intended. As fate said they would.

Rowena was okay with that. The last thing she wanted was to leave you, but if all the cards were right, if she could make the world safe for you to live in even at the cost of her not being in it anymore, she wouldn't regret a thing. No matter how much you hated her. Magic came first.

You came first.

"I'll kill you," you'd said — spat, bitterly, venomously — as Rowena had shoved the knife in Sam's hands. "I swear to god, you lay one hand on her, and you're dead."

"Y/N—" Rowena had tried, only to be cut off.

"No! I'm not losing you. I can't. Either you both live, or you both die. I don't give a damn about fate, or the world. You're the most important thing in my life, and I'm not gonna let some hunter take you from me just because you say it's fine. It's not fine with me."

Rowena knew you would do it. You wouldn't hesitate, not for a moment, to avenge her. Even if she was okay with dying. Even if she'd resigned to her fate.

You loved her too much for your own good. The fact both flattered and frightened her.

Sam got to his feet. Sucked in a large breath. He was a giant of a man, towering over her, but still broken. Still a sad wee thing. Not a single intimidating bone in him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About that. I didn't wanna kill you."

She didn't exactly want to die, either.

"I don't know what I would've done if it had come to that."

He would probably be dead, sipping martinis down with her in Hell.

Rowena decided to keep that particular comment to herself.

"I still mean what I said back then," he said with such determination Rowena didn't have the heart to squash. "I want to change our fate."

The truth was, it couldn't be changed. They could try, but she doubted there would be results. Fate was a clever thing; it took what it wanted, exactly the way it wanted. Rowena doubted she and Sam would be one of the few lucky enough to trick it.

She strived for it, but she didn't allow herself to hope. She couldn't for hope had done nothing but lie through its pearly white teeth.

"Me, too," Rowena said. And she did, she truly wanted it. She just didn't think it would accomplish much.

It was worth a try, though. Anything that allowed her to be with you, to have you for more than just a few measly years, was worth at least a consideration.

"I don't wanna lose you," Sam said.

Rowena offered him a smile, one of those that reciprocated his words without her having to utter a single one of her own. You were the love of her life, but she needed someone on the outside. Someone who knew what it was like to live in fear and wake up soaked in sweat.

She needed a friend.

"You're getting sappy, Winchester," she teased.

"Sorry," Sam said with a flicker of a smile. A tease of his own. "I just… I really like having you around."

"Likewise," she told him. He was a good person. Gentle. Kind. Witches and hunters weren't meant to be friends, yet here they were, defying odds. Hoping to defy fate, as well.

If they didn't make it, if fate played out as it was supposed to, at the very least you wouldn't be alone. You and the Winchesters weren't the best of friends, but they would be there for you. They would protect you, if any rogue hunters were to come calling.

Rowena would be leaving you in safe hands.

"But don't tell anyone I said that," she joked. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"You got it," Sam said with a chuckle.

He stepped toward her. Laid his hands — his massive, calloused hands — on her shoulders; a surprisingly tender gesture for a giant such as him. His eyes fell on hers, soft and lovely. A warm smile grazed his face, lit it up in spite of the tears still drying on his cheeks.

Rowena stared, frozen. Not daring to move for she feared it would make everything worse. He was going to hug her, wasn't he? He was going to wrap his arms around her and envelop her in a bone-crushing hug like the bloody sap that he was, and there wasn't a thing in the world she could do about it.

Oh, well. As much as it disgusted her, it was just a hug. It was a thing friends did. She would survive. So long as nobody saw.

It had taken her a while to get used to your hugs, and even more so to allow herself to initiate them. Maybe it was time that she stopped averting hugs from friends, as well.

It was a human gesture, she reminded herself. It wasn't a weakness. It didn't hurt. Just the opposite — it was a sign of love. She didn't have to throw her arms around every person that smiled at her or engage in sweet talk with strangers.

She could hug a friend, in private, away from prying eyes.

She mentally prepared herself, readied her arms to lock around Sam's back, but the embrace never came. Instead, the hunter's eyes fell to her lips, and so did his mouth, and before she could process what was going on, he was kissing her, full force, tongue breaking in.

Rowena shoved him off with all the strength she could muster. "Samuel," she said, completely and utterly baffled, "what in hell are you doing?"

"Yeah, Samuel," you said from the doorway, a storm brewing in your eyes. Furious. Deadly. "What in hell are you doing?"

As if things weren't already bad enough.

Bollocks!

*****

There were only so many stories about Jack you could listen to without tearing up. You weren't close to the boy, but, damn, all the little anecdotes Dean and Castiel shared about him made him feel like family.

It wasn't a hard feat to accomplish; he was a good person, a good kid. Easy to love and get along with. The only Winchester (well, technically) you genuinely liked to be around.

"There he was," Dean was saying, lips twitching with humor, "flipping through Busty Asian Beauties with this confused look on his face. When I snatched it back, he asked why they were all naked. Sam was pissed I left my magazine out in the open, but, man, it was worth it." His face turned dark, somber. He finished what had to have been his fifth glass of scotch. "It was worth the memory."

It surely was. It was weird how random things, however meaningless, seemingly insignificant, made for some of the best memories. Like that time Rowena had gotten up on her tiptoes to grab something from a higher shelf and spilled the contents all over herself. Or the time she was teaching you a spell and you'd turned your hair purple on accident — and had kept the color until it faded naturally, much to Rowena's utmost annoyance.

Every moment mattered. However small, it had value once it became a memory. Once the person you shared it with was gone, forever.

You took a sip of your drink and grimaced at the taste, but gulped it down in stride. It was easy once you got the hang of it. Once it started making the reminiscing more bearable, started making your eyes stop welling up with tears you were barely holding back.

These were private moments. Intimate. Meant for family which you would never be part of. It felt wrong to listen in on the grief, to intrude on it.

You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Rowena.

She'd been gone an awful while, and you were missing her immensely. What was going on with her and Sam? Had the hunter fallen apart — literally — and she had to reassemble the pieces, one little bit at the time?

You understood he needed comfort, understood Rowena's need to provide it, but it was taking too long. Way longer than it usually took them to talk.

It would be rude to interrupt. But, at the same time, it would be rude to stay here, to invade on someone's grief. To sit around awkwardly while they shared memories that meant everything to them, and not a single thing to you.

You were tired. Overwhelmed. Events from earlier still replaying in your head, an endless rerun of fear and desperation. All you wanted was to curl up with Rowena — in your house, in your bed — and fall asleep to the gentle beats of her heart.

Finishing your drink, you rose up to your feet and headed for Sam's room. If Dean and Castiel noticed your absence, they didn't comment on it, lost in their reminiscing.

The hallway was quiet. Not a single noise within earshot; not a mosquito, not a fly. It was weird, but a welcome sensation nonetheless. Silence beat the quacking of crowds and the sounds of busy traffic. One of the reasons you used to hate staying in hotels Rowena loved. They were lovely, the highest of class, but there were too many people. Too much noise.

It had been a struggle to convince Rowena to settle down in the suburbs. She'd only relented once you'd agreed for it to be a wealthy one. The woman was nothing if not classy.

Sam's room was silent. There was no muttering, no soft, hushed voices. No noise of movement. You knocked shyly, once, twice. Had they gone somewhere else to talk? If they had, where? The bunker was large; there were rooms you'd never been to. Rooms you were pretty sure Sam and Dean themselves had never been to.

They could be anywhere.

You felt your phone in your pocket, prepared to use it if Rowena weren't here, and then slowly pushed the door open.

You expected to find them sitting in silence. Expected to find Rowena whispering words of comfort, and Sam with his face buried in his hands. Hell, expected an empty room.

Expected anything — everything — other than the two of them standing close to each other, so close their bodies brushed together. His hands on her shoulders, holding her steady, in place. His eyes on her mouth, his lips connecting with hers.

Rowena pushed him away and said, "Samuel, what in hell are you doing?"

Your teeth clenched. Hands balled into tight fists. Stomach churned with unease, with anger that bubbled and boiled. Magic burned in your veins, ready to break free at your command. Ready to attack, to obliterate its target.

"Yeah, Samuel." You spat the name like it was filth, the worst of poisons. "What in hell are you doing?"

Startled, Rowena spun toward you. Her face, pale as that of a ghost, was pure shock. Fear for you were certain she knew what was to come. She knew you.

"In fact," you hissed at her, "what in hell have you been doing?"

You didn't want to imagine the possible scenarios, didn't want those images in your head, but they kept coming. Sam and Rowena's hands twined together. Lips locked in a kiss. Mouths wide in smiles. Lost in each other, Dean and Castiel and Jack forgotten.

You forgotten.

You shook the thoughts off. Tears prickled at your eyes; you willed them back, didn't dare let them fall. It's not real, you told yourself. It didn't happen.

But what if it had? What if their bond — their unique, impenetrable bond — drew them to each other more than it already had? What if it made them realize they were it for each other, soulmates forged in pain, in trauma no one but the two of them could comprehend?

They'd both suffered under Lucifer. They'd both lost a child. They understood each other better than anyone could ever understand them; understood each other's grief, struggle to sleep at night.

It would only be natural for them to fall for each other.

You'd loved Rowena for years, but you couldn't measure up to Sam. You couldn't protect her. Couldn't comfort her the way she deserved. Couldn't understand the pain she was going through daily, even now, years after her horrid death at Lucifer's hands.

Sam could. He knew exactly what it was like. He could give her advice on how to deal with it, teach her to cope.

All you ever did was hug her, tell her you loved her, and hope for the best.

It wasn't enough. You weren't enough.

"Nothing," Rowena said. "I've done nothing. This isn't—"

"I-I'm sorry," Sam said. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't… I didn't mean to..."

"What, shove your tongue down her throat?" you snapped.

"No, that's not—"

You cut him off sharply. "I have eyes, Sam!"

"There was no tongue," Rowena said.

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

Tears spilled down your face, defying your containment. A part of you always knew something like this would happen. Rowena was too big of a person, too grand, too powerful to settle for a lowly witch such as yourself. It was only a matter of time before she decided she'd had enough and moved on to someone better.

You were an idiot to think it would last forever.

Rowena sighed, then, sucking in a deep breath, looked you in the eyes. "Nothing happened, Y/N. I promise."

There was sincerity in her tone. Honesty. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe nothing had happened.

But…

"I know what I saw," you said.

He'd kissed her. He'd held her, and looked at her, and kissed her, and he'd meant it. She'd pushed him away, but that didn't change the fact that his lips captured hers in a way they shouldn't have. Not while you were dating her. Not while she was your girlfriend.

"She's telling you the truth," Sam said. You whipped a glare at him, and he held his hands up in a placating matter. "I misunderstood the situation and I kissed her, but she — she pushed me away. She didn't do anything. It's on me. I swear."

You scowled. Looked from him to Rowena, back and forth as his words settled in.

"Is that a habit for you, kissing other people's girlfriends?" you spat bitterly. "I've heard rumors about your unconventional dating history, but holy shit!"

Sam ignored the remark. "It was an acc—"

"Oh, don't bullshit me!" you snapped.

"Y/N—" Rowena tried.

You held up a hand. "No! He doesn't get to bullshit his way out of this."

Talking to her, giving her assurance in the middle of the night when she couldn't fall asleep was one thing. You didn't like it, but you knew it was necessary. Rowena needed a friend. Needed someone who knew what she was going through, who could comfort her in ways you couldn't. Needed a good, loyal friend.

She didn't need another lover.

"Darling, please," she said softly, placatingly. "Calm down."

You stared at her, incredulous. "Why are you defending him? Did you want to kiss him?"

"Would I have pushed him away if I did?"

"You tell me."

She sighed, frustrated. "Goodness, lass! Are you hearing yourself?"

"Am I supposed to be okay with my girlfriend making out with her best friend?"

"We were not making out!"

"We weren't," Sam confirmed. "She was there. She was nice to me, a-and I just… I don't know why I did it."

"You did it because you wanted to!" you screamed, and, as your anger flared, so did your magic. Without you even having to shout out an Abi, a force knocked Sam backwards and slammed him into the wall.

If he didn't want to kiss her, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have laid his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with lust in his eyes. Wouldn't have tried to make excuses.

You should have known it would lead to this. Their bond was strong; it was only a matter of time before one of them caught feelings. Intense friendships like that didn't stay friendships for long.

To think you used to encourage it. Despite your unease at Rowena spending time with the man fated to kill her, you'd encouraged her to talk to him. Encouraged her to open up, to be herself with the one person in the whole wide world who knew what it was like to live with that kind of trauma.

And for what? For him to try to take her from you?

"Y/N!" Rowena exclaimed, startled by your outburst. "Calm down, love. It's okay."

"None of this is okay!" you yelled.

The cupboards and closets shook as your magic pulsated, wild, unstable. Drawers rattled. Lights flickered.

"You have a right to be upset," Rowena said, taking a careful step toward you. Two. Three. Her eyes trailed the trembling furniture before settling back on you. "But you need to calm down, darling. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

You wanted to do plenty of things you would regret, needed to do them, the urge so strong it hurt to resist it, but she was right. You needed to calm down.

For your sake. For Rowena's.

It had been an eventful day. Draining. A rollercoaster of emotions. You had no issue with hurting Sam, no issue with killing him for you'd already wanted to do so earlier, but it didn't take a genius to know harming a hunter in his own home, with his aggressive, overprotective brother and an angelic friend inside.

It would be suicide.

A part of you didn't care, though. A part of you wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him pay for wanting to take away the one person you'd had left in your life. Sam had lost Jack, but he still had a family. He had Dean, and Castiel, and Eileen, and Jody, and Donna.

You, on the other hand, only had Rowena.

No matter what he was feeling, how caught up in the moment he was, he had no right to try to take her from you.

"What the hell's going on here?" Dean demanded, running toward you with Castiel in tow. His eyes fell on Sam, grimacing on the flood, cheeks streak with tears, then shifted to Rowena, and finally to you. "What happened?"

His tone was more an order than a question. He demanded an answer, and he would get it.

A childish part of you wanted to counter him just to be difficult. Instead, you said, "You raised Sam, right? Should've taught him not to touch things that aren't his."

"What are you talking about?" Another demand, no less firm than the first.

You brushed the tears clouding your eyes. Cursed the new ones that instantly replaced them. "Ask him."

Settling one final flare upon the younger Winchester, you turned on your heel and walked out. You couldn't stay here anymore. Couldn't stay in this room, in this Bunker. Couldn't breathe any more of this stale air.

You felt your magic subside, a raging storm fading into a warm summer breeze. You could have killed him for what he'd done, what he'd tried to do. Should have killed him.

If it were anyone else, you would have.

You hoped you wouldn't come to regret it.

*****

Well, that certainly was, as people today tended to say, a shiteshow.

Rowena breathed in, deep and hard. Her racing heart slowed, muscles sprung free from the tension. This certainly wasn't the maddest thing you'd caught her doing, but it was bloody near the top.

She knew how uneasy you were about Sam. Knew you disapproved of their friendship, of them being anywhere near each other ever since you'd found out he was fated to kill her. You wanted her safe, away from danger, but you didn't complain. You knew she needed someone like Sam in her life, and you didn't want to try to take him away from her.

Only to walk in on him kissing her.

Rowena couldn't blame you for your reaction. It was extreme, yes, but so was the situation. It wasn't every day that you walked in on your girlfriend's best friend kissing her.

She would have been angry, as well. She would have caused an even worse scene.

"Sam are you okay?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine," Sam said, rising back to his feet.

Dean's eyes whipped around from him to Rowena, confused, angry. He eyed the shifted furniture, the drawers that had fallen open as slivers of your magic roamed the room. "What the hell happened?"

It was a long story, one Rowena wasn't willing to tell. Not now, after everything. She sighed. "I'm afraid we are going to have to cut our visit short."

Castiel tilted his head. "Why?"

Sam's eyes, uncertain, hurt, shifted to Rowena. She instantly looked away, avoiding his stare. She wasn't going to talk about it. Not now. The two of them needed to talk, needed to settle this mess his so-called misunderstanding had gotten them into, but Rowena needed to sort it out with you, first.

The last thing she wanted was for you to think she wanted Sam to kiss her. She cared about him, she did, but you were the one she loved. You were the one who'd taught her it was okay to love, that it wasn't a weakness. That she was still capable of it.

That she still deserved to be loved.

She would be an idiot to throw it all away for a hunter.

She felt for Sam; it wasn't easy to lose a child. It was only natural for him to seek comfort in her. But not like this. The two of them would never be anything more than friends.

"Rowena—" he started, but she put her hand up, cutting whatever it was he wanted to say off. She didn't want to hear it. Not now.

"We'll talk later," she said in a tone that left no room for argument. She shot him a look that said as much, softer than a glare but still intense. Still clear that, as much as she understood his vulnerability, she wasn't happy with what he'd done.

Her heels clicked as she stormed down the hallway, eyes flying wildly and up to the library to pick up her bag. The Bunker was unusually quiet, damp air colder, atmosphere gloomier than earlier. Rowena spotted her glass, undisturbed where she'd left it earlier, refilled it, and gulped the contents down.

Some liquid courage wouldn't hurt.

She found you outside, leaning on the railing, eyes glued to the road.

"There you are!"

You didn't look at her, didn't move a single muscle. Instead, you simply said, "The cab'll be here soon."

The coldness of your tone stung like a slap to the face. She was certain a slap would hurt less. "You called a taxi already?"

You shrugged. "Figured you'll either come, or you won't."

"Well, I'm here."

"Good for you."

Rowena supposed she should have seen that coming. She walked up to the railing and lowered her bag to the ground. "Y/N, we should talk."

"Maybe," you said, feigning nonchalance. Voice breaking at the edges for, no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide your emotions from her. You weren't that good a liar.

"I really didn't want Sam to kiss me," she said. Poured all her honesty, all her emotions, raw and pulsating, into those words. She wanted you to know she meant it. Needed you to believe it, to believe her.

She loved you with all her heart, in ways she'd never loved anyone before.

Losing Fergus' father had turned her heart cold and cruel.

Losing you would kill her.

She would never do anything to risk it. Would never do anything — would never dare — to hurt you to the point you wanted to leave. Not on purpose. She hoped you knew her enough to know that.

You said nothing. Did nothing, made not a single movement. Your eyes remained glued to the road as if you were in a trance.

Rowena's heart sank. It broke her to see you like that. You had every right to be upset, to be angry, but it hurt to be treated to nothing but silence. She would prefer to be yelled at, to be insulted and cursed at out loud, to nothingness.

"We were just talking," she said when the silence got too long, too much to handle. Too suffocating to breathe. "About Jack. About what we've lost. I suppose he took it the wrong way." Wasn't that an understatement of the century? Sam owed her an explanation, and she hoped he had a good one. As hurt as he was, he had no right to do this to her. No right to cause trouble in the first meaningful relationship she'd had in centuries. "I pushed him away. You saw that."

Your lip trembled; finally, a reaction. A tear slid down your cheek. "It wasn't… pleasant to walk in on that." You spat the last word out like filth.

Rowena gave a nod. It certainly was not; far from it. If it had been her, there would have been far more damage than some half-opened drawers. You'd handled it well, for a witch. For a girlfriend as protective as yourself.

"Would you be chill if it was you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but, with a snort, Rowena said, "Hell no."

"Exactly." You breathed in and out, pondering on the situation, on the words to come. Squinted against the blinding sun. When you spoke up, your voice was trembling like a bridge amidst a hurricane, "I just figured it was gonna happen, sooner or later."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Sam." You sniffled as tears drenched your face like a downpour. "I can't give you what you need. Not like he can."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I can't understand you like he can," you said with a whimper. "I can't make you better. But he can. You've been doing so much better ever since you started talking to him."

Rowena stared as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. Baffled. Dumbfounded to her core. You'd been there for her since day one. Even back when she was an evil witch who didn't give a damn about you, you were at her side. Not once had you given up on her. Not once had you turned your back on her. All she knew about love and kindness, you'd helped her rediscover. You'd helped her reawaken those parts of her she'd thought were long gone.

To think she would throw it all away for a hunter…

Sam had been an immense help. He'd been there for her when she was at her worst, at her most vulnerable. She'd come to care about him in ways she never thought she would. Had come to call him a close friend.

But that was all he was — a friend.

You, on the other hand, were the love of her life. Sam Winchester could never measure up to that.

"Sam is my friend," Rowena said, looking you straight in the eyes. Making sure she got her point across, loud and clear. "It's true he's been a tremendous help, but he's nothing more than a friend." She grabbed one of your hands. Squeezed it so hard her knuckles flashed white. "He is not you."

No matter what he did, how good he treated her, he would never be you. Not even close.

"You're my wee lamb," she told you. A small smile bloomed on your mouth, and she grinned, victorious. "My lovely lass. My darling. My—"

"Okay, I get it," you said, chuckling. "You love me."

"I bloody do."

"I love you, too."

Oh, she knew. She'd known since the very start.

"I just… I don't wanna lose you," you admitted.

"You won't," Rowena assured you. "I'm hard to misplace, love."

"I don't know. You are kinda small."

She pouted, feigning offense. "Mean."

You laughed. Then, face growing serious, said, "I don't want you to be alone with Sam anymore. It's not that I don't trust you — I do. But I don't trust him."

"Okay," Rowena said.

She usually would have fought such a demand. She was an independent woman, tough, strong willed. Nobody's little plaything. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, with whoever she wanted, no permission needed. No permission wanted. But, despite every single nerve in her, every cell, every fraction of her being, wanting to rebel, she understood why you were asking that of her.

Sam had crossed the line. You'd trusted him with her, and he'd broken that trust. Had crushed it in a way neither you nor Rowena had expected.

It may have been a moment of weakness, a moment of sheer vulnerability, but that didn't make it right.

"I will sort this out, darling," Rowena promised.

"Okay," you said with a small nod. "You do that. Because if I…" You swallowed, hard. "If he tries anything again…"

You would do more than just throw him into a wall.

The implication was clear. The threat lingering around the words left unsaid.

"He won't." Rowena swore it on her life.

Sam was a smart man; he could be reasoned with. He knew what he'd done was wrong.

He would be a bampot to try anything similar again.

As much as Rowena cared about him, she cared about you more. You came first. That much had to be clear to him.

Your hand captured in hers squeezed back, Fingers twined in an unbreakable knot. You gave her a smile, one of those bright, genuine ones that always made her heart jump. "You're my girl."

"You know it, dear," Rowena said, loud and proud. Ready to shout it to the moon and back.

She leaned against you, lowered her head on your shoulder. You pressed a soft kiss to her scalp and wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. Never wanting to let her leave.

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

You were stuck with her, for as long as you wanted to be. For as long as this cruel, cruel universe allowed it.

Hopefully forever.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​ @oswinthestrange​ @songofthecagedmoose​ @apurdyfulmind​ @getthesalt-sam​ @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials​ @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @mintymarshmellows​ @midnight-lestrange​ @osterhagen​ @impala-1979​ @gracib16​ @feelsandotps​

[spaceskam]

92 or 98 for malex? 💗💗💗

92. “I want you to be happy.” & 98. “Take a deep breath.”

ao3

For a king who had been hailed as a genius, Alex found that Michael was a goddamn idiot.

“What is wrong with you?” Alex breathed, tears already covering his face as he stared at the man he loved more than anything. It was late and the rest of the castle was asleep aside from a few guards, leaving them stuck with speaking quietly over candlelight.

Alex Manes had been found as a toddler, abandoned and hungry with an infection on his leg. The queen at the time had taken pity on him and brought him home, letting a doctor do what he needed so he could learn to walk again. With a specially crafted leg funded by the royal family, Queen Nora gave him to her staff as sort of a side project. He grew up inside the castle as the son of 20 different women who doted on him like their own and 20 different men who thought it was their duty to teach him to be a man. It made him skilled in a vast number of trades as the king and queen watched. 

By the time he was 10, they realized how intelligent and capable he was and began letting other, higher staff members teach him things like how to read and write. He was 15 when he was granted tutoring sessions alongside Prince Michael where they became close friends, but things didn’t start becoming complicated until they were 16.

King Heinar died, leaving the throne to Michael who was panicked and sad, but he took on the duty. Alex took it upon himself to help him to the best of his ability, but they soon found that their attraction ran deeper than simply friendship. They talked through royal plans while naked in bed most nights, sharing thoughts and ideas and it never bothered Alex when Michael passed them off as his own.

At 17, Queen Nora suggested that, for appearances' sake, it would be best if Alex officially became a Gentleman of the Bedchamber. It would explain why they were so close without stirring the wrong kind of gossip. There had already been publications of drawings with Michael as a giant baby with Alex spoon-feeding him political ideologies. People were already assuming, so he agreed.

Alex’s duties for the last five years as Gentleman of the Bedchamber was to be Michael’s closest companion, to help him dress, to wait on him when he ate, to guard his chambers when he was most vulnerable. He quite typically did none of that. His sword and prosthetic leg usually laid beside them on the bed for easy access, but no guarding or servent-esque duties took place. Alone, they were equals. That was their rule.

Which worked quite fine until Michael had to begin courting a young princess. He needed heirs after all and that was something Alex couldn’t provide. It made it harder to steal time alone with him, harder to show affection, harder to stop his heart from aching in a way he couldn’t heal. Because as of tomorrow, Michael would be married and he would need to begin working to provide heirs. Loyalty was no longer an option.

“What is wrong with you?” Alex repeated, feeling disgusted not for the first time as he stared at Michael. He looked sad and lost like he did most days lately. “How dare you ask that of me? I know you are a king, but I am not your plaything. I never have been and I refuse to let you treat me as if I am.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Michael insisted, struggling to keep his voice down, “I just need you there, beside me, to give me strength.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Alex scoffed, “What we have is ending tomorrow morning for good and you want me to stand beside you as it happens? You want me to stand in front of everyone as you rip my heart out of my chest?”

Michael stared at him, bottom lip quivering as he let his tears flow freely. Alex assumed he didn’t have any control over them. He gasped a desperate little breath and wiped at his face, but Alex didn’t back down from staring. He knew he had no right to be angry, he knew what he was getting into when he first laid with a king, but, God, he was.

“It’s normal for kings to have mistresses,” Michael said weakly, the same argument he brought up every single time they’d spoke about this since it came apparent that he would need to get married, “It’s normal. We can still be together. I don’t love her, it’s pure politics. I’m sure she’ll have her fair share of men as well.” 

“You don’t understand,” Alex said, shaking his head, “You simply don’t understand. Mistresses are normal because you have power. This is all power. The fact that I am forced to have a title simply to be close to you is all power. And I don’t want a love that has any sort of fucked up imbalance in it any more than I’ve already accepted. I refuse to be some sort of mistress. You either have only me or you don’t have me at all. That’s how it’s been for years and that’s the only way I’ll take you.”

“Alex,” Michael begged, coming closer. Alex took a step back. “Alex, this isn’t an option for me. I have to produce heirs.”

“I know,” Alex said, sniffling as he wiped his eyes, “Which is why I can’t stand beside you at your wedding. I’ll attend, I have to, and I’ll take up duties as the Gentleman of the Bedchamber, but I no longer can be anything more. I can’t take it.”

“Fine!” Michael said, falling to his knees and taking Alex’s hand to place over his heart, “Fine! I won’t touch her! I’ll marry her for appearances and I’ll only touch you. Fuck heirs, fuck it all, nothing matters without you.”

“And what if people find out that your marriage hasn’t been consumated? What happens when she asks you won’t touch her? And what happens when she is publically and ritualistically shamed by your people for not producing heirs? She doesn’t deserve that either,” Alex said, “The only way is to stop. You marry her, you learn to love her, you have children with her.”

“I don’t want that! I want you!”

“Michael,” Alex said, resting his hand on his wet cheek. His face was a wreck from crying and Alex assumed he couldn’t look much different. Still, he looked in his eyes and told him the truth. “I want you to be happy. For that to happen, you need to let go.”

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head, “I can’t be happy without you.”

He dropped his head forward, resting on Alex’s stomach as he wrapped his arms around him. He didn’t seem to have many intentions to let go. It was times like these that Alex realized that, although they’d grown up at the same time under the same roof, they were taught many different things. For example, Alex was taught that all good things come to an end eventually. Like when Sir Aubrey, the only other man he’d met with an artificial leg, died the night he told Alex he had a surprise trick to teach him at his next sword lesson. Years later, Alex still wondered what it was.

And, years from now, he’d wonder what it would be like to have had Michael to himself for eternity.

“I’m going to sabotage my own wedding,” Michael said into his stomach. Alex huffed a humorless laugh, losing a bit of inhibition as he dropped his crutch and combed through Michael’s hair for the last time. Michael held him upright easily. “I-I’ll insult the priest. I’ll forget what I’m meant to say. I’ll trip and need a doctor.”

“Your new wife doesn’t deserve that. Give her a nice day,” Alex insisted. Michael squeezed him.

“Stop it, you’re too kind. If you must push me away like this, you’ll have to make me hate you,” Michael stated firmly. Alex laughed softly, closing his eyes as he slowly started to get to his knees. Michael helped him, eyes still full of sadness as they found themselves face to face. Alex wanted to kiss him, to grab him and run away, to go somewhere that they could be together without consequence.

But Michael was a good leader, the best they’d had in years, and Alex played a crucial role in making that happen. Neither of them could leave for the sake of their country.

“I’ll make you hate me,” Alex promised, taking his face in his hands, “Just you wait.”

“Good luck,” Michael said, chin raised and jaw set in determination despite his wet eyes, “Nothing you could do would make me hate you. I lo-”

“Shh,” Alex said, shaking his head as he put his thumb to those lips that he’d kissed daily since he was 16 years old, “Take a few deep breaths. You need to calm down before you go back to your room.”

Michael shook his head. 

“I’m not leaving until I figure out a way around this,” Michael stated, “We think best together, we always have. If anyone could come up with a way to make this work for everyone, it’s us.”

Alex’s shoulders dropped as well as his hands, scared to touch Michael when he was speaking that way. It was too easy to fall into habits he hadn’t had the chance to break quite yet when he did. He still wanted to touch him, still wanted to find a solution, and it made it harder to stand his ground when Michael wanted to do the same.

“Michael, we’ve already tried. We’ve been trying,” Alex said weakly. Michael looked at him for what felt like an eternity and Alex stared back. It was easy to get lost in his face again and just think about what could’ve been.

But then Michael’s eyes widened.

“We haven’t tried one thing,” Michael said. Alex, refusing to get his hopes up, eyed him suspiciously. “We haven’t tried talking to her.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked hesitantly.

“I mean,” Michael said, already moving to get to his feet. He grabbed Alex’s crutch on the way before holding out his hand to pull Alex up as well. “We need to talk to my soon-to-be wife. Maybe she has someone I don’t know about that she had to give up for me. Or maybe we can have her fake a pregnancy and adopt. There are other options, but if she’s going to be my wife, she’ll need to be included. And I want to keep you, so we need to ask her. Come on.”

“Come on? Michael, it’s the middle of the night,” Alex said, though his heart was beating in his chest. He knew telling this woman would be a very risky thing and she could easily confirm the suspicions of people, but she was their only option. 

“Yes, and our wedding is in the morning. We’re low on time,” Michael said, pulling him just a little bit closer, “I refuse to lose you, Alexander. You are a gift from God himself and I don’t intend to give you back.”

Michael kissed him to seal his promise and Alex was couldn’t say no. This was their last chance to have a future and if that meant doing something reckless, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much to stand beside him as he married someone else if he knew he was still all his.

[onaperduamedee]

Disco 3.05 “Die Trying” bullet point review

Bullet point review under the read more. SPOILERS FOR STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 3.05:

Saru’s logs this time!

Captain. Number One. Oh, my heart. He’s trying so hard to channel Philippa. There’s a lot to say about the Klingon war being a consequence of Philippa’s mistakes as well, not Michael’s, and the way Saru clings to her as a paragon of Starfleet ideals, when Michael has always seemed to cling to her as a person rather than a symbol, is bound to explode in his face.

The quest for Michael’s mom is still going on.

Everything about the visuals of this new Starfleet is stunning: the tree of life, the flying rainforest, but all that glitters…

Look, the way these nerds are reacting to finding Starfleet again is heartwarming but it’s also so very clear that they are setting themselves up for disappointment. The writing is going for dystopia, I’m telling you. The crew is the opposite of genre-savvy here, and that’s pretty unnerving.

VOYAGER SHE IS HERE YES I’D LOVE TO HEAR THOSE STORIES

(I am sorry I know important conflict between past and present Starfleet is happening but Michael’s peeping ear is so cute!)

The examination for Adira is a bit gross, ngl. Everyone is obsessed with them as a medical case.

Starfleet deciding to erase the ship from History had consequences! That’s what happens when you screw with recorded History. I like this a lot. They are also technically in another timeline.

The needs of Starfleet ahead of the needs of your crew. And Michael bristling with disagreement the moment she hears the Admiral’s words. I love Michael’s mutinous heart to distraction.

Some of us might not ever recover. Interesting, so Michael is back to having her identity be wrapped around Starfleet’s ideals. From what we saw in 3.03/3.04, she isn’t there yet, but this suggests a) she made her choice in reverting back to this state, b) the process is proving more trying than expected.

(Grouping people by department. What does that make Georgiou? Bother in chief?)

Debriefing is my favourite trope in genre fiction. It’s an opportunity to let characters break the 4th wall and offer meta commentary, and this is exactly what they are doing. The gag of Reno’s snack is both hilarious, and extremely telling about her character.

Captain/dominatrix, I mean, yes, but you looked amazing Tilly.

Nhan resisting, though. I love her and it’s no wonder she likes Michael.

I love seeing Michael try to convince Starfleet into being helped. It’s such a Michael thing.

Extremely wicked even for a Terran. God, Georgiou’s whip smart. I am really, really digging the way they are displaying just how shrewd she is this season. Often, her being one step ahead had been credited to her knowing everything, but she’s also incredibly astute and observant.

A seed-vault! I’ve always found them really cool and a vault in the space equivalent of the Far North is a great setting for an episode.

Everyone on this ship being proud of Discovery is so endearing.

Every time I see Michael in command there’s a furnace of pride (and gayness) in my chest. I love her so effing much.

As much as I enjoy the cute Keyla/Joann moment, I hope Joann particularly will be given more than supporting Keyla through her PTSD.

Real air, real me. I can’t tell you how much I love Nhan right now. She’s so beautiful.

This episode is following quite closely the Airiam episode: a remote location, difficult to access because of storms/mines, an abandoned station with no clue as to what happened, ominous projections…

Play with it. Georgiou’s not a cat! He is treating her really creepily and I appreciate that she calls him out on it almost immediately with her line about fetishization.

Care about, again. Yeah, Michael is her weakness and he just found Leverage against her.

The interior of the vault is gorgeous and futuristic and weird and I LOVE seeing this in my sci-fi.  

Nhan’s line about diligence and poverty is all the more striking that beyond the real world evident implications (for immigrants marginalized people, in the military as well), it sheds a light on Starfleet and the way it obviously excludes people from its so-called utopia, while also fetishizing those who haven’t joined.

This vault is an actual vault with dead bodies. They are using a lot of horror tropes like in the Airiam episode.

His grief seems to have disconnected him from reality. Hard season 1 Michael truth here. Or just young Michael.

Barzans have a different conception of death! I love this. More anthropology in sci-fi, please.

The scene with the current Starfleet officer observing the crew in action and being awed by Michael’s command the engineers’ prowess is interesting: it’s dynamic and fun, but in no way could they be read as dysfunctional, even by Starfleet standards. It’s extremely telling on the state of the Federation and the way the crew perceives themselves.  

Again, Michael’s grief not being about herself but someone else. In another cave. This is parody at this point. That said and I am all for Michael talking more about the way losing her parents (and others) affected her: Michael is a creature of grief, always has been.

I don’t want to see Nhan go, not remotely, but that conversation between Michael and Nhan is stunning and fond and emotional and unfair and fitting in ways that the Airiam funeral wasn’t to me. The way these two women are in awe of each other… It’s just breathtaking.

I appreciate that Nhan’s decision is obviously a result of loss and trauma. It’s the pendant to the post-traumatic growth that Culber diagnosed Michael with: some people just completely change their life and leave. 

Their paths HAVE TO cross again otherwise I will be rioting.

That’s not why it’s called the Dark Ages, Saru. It’s a controversial term for medievalists.

I mean, the Admiral is right: that’s an unsteady crew right here. So perhaps you should OFFER THEM A PROPER PSYCHIATRIST I DON’T KNOW?!?

Challenge accepted. Michael is so cocky, I love her so much.

So, the Burn has something to do with a melody? I feel like this is an odd observation to make for an anthropologist, but okay, we are doing this.

OH NO WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO PHILIPPA?!? ALL MY JOKES ABOUT HER HAVING PLOT-ARMOR! That said, the scene was wonderfully acted and it’s another reminder SMG and Michelle Yeoh have great chemistry, however you read it.

The Federation is its people. One living organism. I’m so weirded out by the fact that this is a chapter of my fic; Michael being confronted to an officer who is so stuck up she realizes this isn’t at all how she sees Starfleet and she questions her place there.

I am not terribly happy with the way the show has decided to go back to faulting Michael for her disagreement with Starfleet. And Saru keeps flinging back at Michael a past he knows to be painful to her. He feels so threatened by her, even when he is in charge. That’s one of the reasons I’ve never warmed up to their friendship: a friend who constantly tries to keep you in your place, below them, isn’t really a friend. Also, Michael undermining everyone because she’s sharper than them is GOOD. Her pride and bluntness make her so relatable as a woman in a professional setting too. Saru needs to check his ego.

Good conflicts and weird confrontations (in a good way). It was creepy and fun and made great use of technology for the mystery (Doctor Who’s Library nod?). As much as I want Tilly to be shown more being friend with Michael, everything about Nhan and Michael was glorious. I enjoyed it despite whatever they are doing with Michael (I’m not sure they know).

It took me a day, but I’ve figured out what didn’t work with the episode for me: the episode would have worked much better if it had been written and directed as horror. The coldness of Starfleet culminating in… whatever happened that fucked up someone as terrifying as the Emperor? The discovery of the tombs and the poor man stuck in grief, almost robbed of his death by Starfleet? The heart of the episode lied in moments that were BEGGING to be engaged with as horror. And treating them as such would have even benefitted the more warmhearted scenes like the crew arriving at HQ and Michael and Nhan’s goodbye by contrast. It’s something that DW does regularly too and I think that was a real missed opportunity. I really enjoyed the episode, but it could have gone further.

NEXT WEEK: PHILIPPA NO

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Broken Arrow

Of all the windows she could see from the front of the building there was only light behind a single one of them. That told Felicity everything that she needed to know.

With large steps, she crossed the distance towards the steps and hurried upstairs. Michael and Joe, the two night guards were standing in front of the doors, smoking a nightly cigarette. As soon as Michael, the older of the two, saw her, he stubbed out his cigarette and held the door open for her.

“Good evenings, Mrs. Queen.”

“It’s rather a good night,” Felicity replied with a tired smile, “good evening to you too.”

When she stepped through the open door, she looked at Michael. He didn’t seem willing to follow her inside for the usual security check. She perked up her eyebrows at that, but he just waved it off.

“If you wanted to kill your husband, I’d assume you did it at home.”

“Very true,” Felicity replied, “which is why I will get him home now.”

“About time.” Joe, who was still standing next to the ashtray, took a puff of his cigarette. “He’s going to work himself to death otherwise.”

Felicity nodded her head in agreement before she turned away and headed towards the stairs. Joe’s words were still echoing in her head. She knew that he was right. Oliver was going to work himself to death if he continued the way he was handling things right now.

It had been a week since Starling City had been shaken by another earthquake. Again, the Glades had been hit the most. Again, buildings had collapsed and buried people beneath them for hours until they had been found. Again, people had died. Again, a Queen family member was taking responsibility for it.

This time, the Queen Family wasn’t to blame though.

Felicity shook her head slightly when she turned into the hallway which led to Oliver’s office. He was probably brooding over papers that told him the number of casualties and critically as well as slightly injured people the earthquake had caused or how much it would cost to fix the damage. Maybe, he was even reading some of those stupid articles that stated how the damage could have been minimized.

It was stupid, Felicity thought to herself and shook her head once more, how easily the Queen Family or at least Oliver had been blamed for the consequences of the earthquake. Felicity got that the people living in the Glades were putting their blame on him because they needed somebody to blame. That high-ranking politicians of the city were doing so wasn’t fair though.

Oliver hadn’t done anything wrong. He had optimized the earthquake warning machines and the fitting protocol regularly. He had handled the critical hours and days after the earthquake well. He had even gone out there and helped people in person because he hadn’t just been reacting to the earthquake as mayor but also as a good human being that cared about this city deeply. There was nothing that Oliver could blame himself for.

Still, in those eight days since the earthquake, Oliver hadn’t come home. She hadn’t seen him at all except from the few video calls they had had. No call, with or without video, had lasted longer than ten minutes though. Oliver had always been busy.

After eight nights that Oliver had caught little to no sleep, Felicity had decided that enough was enough. Somebody had to stop him. Who would do it if Felicity wasn’t going to do it?

The door to Oliver’s office was opened slightly. Felicity knew that he usually liked to have it closed because the many noises from the hallways were distracting him. Oliver heard a lot better than most people. His years in hell had trained him to have his eyes and ears open for any possible danger, and he was almost unable to switch that off now. If Oliver had left the door open, he must had been deep in thought because he even closed it when nobody was there.

Felicity put her flat hand against the door and pushed it open. Oliver was sitting behind his desk. The jacket of his suit was put over the backrest of his leather chair. He had opened the first two buttons of his shirt and he had rolled up the sleeves. His hair was tousled as he had probably torn it again and again. Although Felicity couldn’t see his face, she was sure that it looked tired if she got to take a look at it.

That Oliver didn’t notice her standing in the door told Felicity how deep in thought he was. He was hypervigilant most times, so his lack in attention said a lot about his current mental state.

When Felicity cleared her throat, Oliver flinched. He ripped his head back, looking at her with threatening eyes that grew a lot warmer once he realized that it was her standing there and nobody else. A long sigh of relief fell from his lips in one moment, be he already frowned worriedly the next.

“Are the kids alright?”

“Not really, no,” Felicity replied, stepping into his office and approaching his desk slowly, “because they haven’t seen their father in a week.”

Oliver sighed once more, closing his eyes. He kept them closed for a long moment, pinching his nasal bridge. He was shaking his head softy.

Felicity watched Oliver. Seeing his face, he looked even more exhausted than she had assumed from what she had seem from the door. The shadows under his eyes were almost black. His eyes were small and slightly swollen. He hadn’t shaved, so his stubble had actually grown a lot thicker.

Eventually, Oliver rested his head back and looked at Felicity with tired eyes. Smiling sadly, Felicity lifted her hand and put it to Oliver’s cheek. He leaned his face into her touch instantly. His nose pressed against her wrist, breathing her in.

When his eyes locked with her the next time, there was an almost defeated expression in them. He knew that she wouldn’t let him get away with what had happened the last week easily. She wouldn’t just let him apologize and come home with her. They both knew that Oliver wouldn’t be able to relax until he had got everything off his chest.

Nodding his head slightly, Oliver straightened up a little. His hands moved over the mess of papers on his desk. He pulled some of the closer, while pushing others away and even trashing some. Felicity waited patiently.

“So, our priority is to make sure that the people who have lost their homes. Some of them are living with friends and family. Others are still in the emergency homes. I have bought some multifamily homes in the names of Starling, so everyone can move into provisory homes by the end of the next week. I have also made sure that the building companies that are assigned to rebuilt the collapsed buildings are supported.”

Felicity could see that Oliver was calming down as he talked to her. She guessed that everyone had been so busy with their own assignments in handling this crisis that Oliver hadn’t had many people to talk with aside from the daily meetings that had taken place. Oliver needed someone to tell him that he was doing great and doing everything he could though. John usually did that for him, but he was handling crisis management in regards to some crime issues and currently out of town for that.

“Apart from that, the need for psychological help has grown immensely. The new earthquake has triggered the old trauma that a lot of people still have after the Undertaking. I have located two advice centers for people in need.”

Still listening to everything Oliver told her, Felicity got up from the desk. She walked around him to take position behind him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, massaging them. She could feel the tight knots that had built in his muscles.

“I have already visited some of the patients that are currently treated at Starling General,” Oliver continued to explain, “and there are problems with taking care of the family’s children in six cases. I have managed to shelter all these kids with responsible local families, so neither of them had to be given into the care of child protective service and- oh my god.”

When Felicity dug her fingers tightly into some particularly hard tension in Oliver’s muscles, his eyes rolled back into his head before they fluttered shut. He leaned more and more back, pressing his tight back into the touch of her fingers. His head fell back onto the backrest of his chair. His fingers grabbed her wrists, keeping her hands exactly where they were.

“Sleeping on the couch is not good for you.”

“I have slept on worse.”

Felicity knew exactly what Oliver had been going through in the years that had followed the Gambit’s shipwreck. Sleeping on cold ground had been the least of his problems back then. It did offer a quite visual impression of what he must have gone through though.

With a sigh, Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders from behind and leaned her face against his. Oliver moved his cheek against hers a couple of times.

“You are doing great,” Felicity whispered with her lips brushing against his ear, tightening her arms around him, “the best anyone could.”

Felicity knew that Oliver wouldn’t exactly agree with her. He knew that he was doing well, but he was always looking for ways to improve. He was that kind of person, always aiming for more even if he was doing great already.

“You have to relax now,” Felicity told him with soft voice and kissed the shell of his ear, “because you can only do more of the good things you already have been doing when you are relaxed and energized to do so.”

Oliver sighed, snuggling his head against the side of her face once more. When he turned his head, he brushed a featherlight kiss against the corners of her lips.

“I am not sure that I can relax then.”

Pulling back slightly, Felicity watched Oliver’s face. She could see that he meant it. He had honest doubt that he could relax. He wanted to because he knew how important it was to her and to him too, but he didn’t know if he could. There were too many things stuck in his head and too many thoughts making his stomach tighten.

“Back-up plan then.”

“Back-up pl- hm…”

The moment Felicity stepped around his chair and dropped her coat to the floor, the words died on Oliver’s lips and he hummed instead. His right eyebrow perked up slightly while he was letting his gaze travel down her body. She was only wearing one of his shirts, panties and her shoes since she had already been in bed when she had decided that it was time to get her man home.

“I figured that if you couldn’t be convinced easily,” Felicity said slowly, straddling his lap and pressing the juncture of her legs against where he was already growing hard in his pants, “if I came with good arguments.”

“I am already convinced.” Oliver put his hands to her hips, pulling her even closer and rubbing his hips against hers. “My body could need some motivation to pass out though, and we both know what happens after sex.”

Felicity chuckled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Oliver usually passed out within ten minutes after sex. If he had to, he could delay his death-like sleep until night, but sex always made him quite tired. Hopefully, it would help him here too.

“It’s going to be my pleasure to help you relax.”

With that, Felicity leaned forward and captured Oliver’s lips in a kiss. It started out slow and gentle. It was a sweet way of welcoming each other back. There were no words needed for both of them to understand that they loved each other and had missed each other terribly. They hadn’t spent a week apart in like forever.

Soon, their kiss grew into more though. Their lips opened to the touch of each other’s tongues. They danced together slowly and intimately. Felicity’s hips shifted closer against Oliver’s in response. They picked up a rhythm of their own, thrusting against Oliver’s hips at the same time that her tongue stroked against his.

Their rocking movements spurred them. Oliver’s hands moved from Felicity’s hips over her legs to her knees. From there, they started a slow path up her legs again. They pushed the hem of his shirt up her body, getting them out of the way for the touch of his hands.

His touch felt so good, Felicity thought to herself and thanked him for the warmth he spent on her skin by gently biting into his bottom lip. Goosebumps were spreading on her skin wherever he touched her, and a warm shiver of absolute comfortableness was running down her spine.

“Oliver.”

She whispered his name into the kiss. It was a sign of how turned on she was and how she wanted to move things along. At the same time, she knew that whispering his name that hoarsely while her hips were thrusting against his turned him on beyond belief. She could literally feel the blood rushing towards his groin.

Oliver stroked his tongue against hers one last time before he grabbed hold of her hips and pushed her further away from him. He grabbed hold of his belt, but Felicity was too impatient to wait until he had unfastened it. She pushed his hands away, making work of his belt quickly. She unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper at the same time. Oliver wiggled his hips, helping her to pull his pants and boxers down in one go.

Hovering over Oliver’s lap, she stroked her hand through his hair and pulled at some strands lightly. Oliver angled his head back. His eyes locked with hers. His pupils were blown wide, and his fingers tightened around her small hips.

Felicity felt her heart skipping a beat. She had missed Oliver so much, even more than she had known so far. She knew that she was her own person, and she had insisted on having something for herself for a long time already. Still, she only felt like she was whole if Oliver was around. He was such a great part of herself, and she didn’t feel inferior when she admitted that she needed him to feel whole. It just showed how close they were, and how they had made the right decision by getting married to one another.

Slowly and with her eyes still locked onto Oliver’s, Felicity sank down onto Oliver’s cock. He stretched her perfectly in that special way that was so familiar and still felt so excitingly new every time. Her slick walls welcomed Oliver gladly, snuggling around his hard cock and squeezing down on it gently.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, they both stilled. Oliver’s fingers tightened around Felicity’s hips for a moment longer before they moved up her body. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel the warmth of his hands. They made her feel warm and caused her to sink even more against Oliver’s chest.

When Oliver’s fingers reached the nape of her neck, tickling the sensitive skin there, Felicity released a hum. As low as the sound she made was, it vibrated through all of her body and made her need for Oliver grow even more.

Oliver put his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her down towards him. Their lips met in a searing kiss while their hips picked up a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. Felicity sighed into the kiss, her hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt at the shoulders and tightening around it.

With the way they moved, their hips thrusted together harmonically. Whenever Felicity thrusted down, Oliver thrusted up to meet his rhythm. Her clit rubbed against his pelvic. Both made her pleasure rise quickly, causing her to feel hot and cold at the same time and making her need only more.

When it came to Oliver, she always needed more. She needed more of his hands roaming over her body. She needed more of his lips stealing hot kisses from her mouth. She needed more of his hips thrusting against hers and touching spots inside of her that only he had ever managed to stimulate.

Their joint moans echoed through the room as they moved towards the peak of their pleasure. Since the door to the hallway was still left ajar, Felicity was sure that it could be heard outside of Oliver’s office too. The building was empty though, so Felicity couldn’t care less. Actually, the thought of how their sounds of pleasure were echoing through the entire building only turned her on more.

Soon, Felicity felt the peak of her pleasure nearing. Her need for breath grew too much to take at the same time. She pulled back, finally managing to take in a shallow but urgently needed breath. Oliver tried to chase her lips for a second, still wanting more. As soon as his eyes locked with hers, he could see how close was so. Instead of trying to chase her lips any longer, he stayed with his eyes locked on hers.

Their thrusts grew quicker and more urgent. Their hips chased towards the relief they both wanted and needed. Felicity’s stomach was tightening. All of her thoughts, her feelings and actions were revolving around that release. She wanted and needed it so much.

With only a couple more thrusts, they both fell over the edge. Their moans turned into one when Felicity angled her head down and caught Oliver’s lips with hers. Kissing each other, their hips continued to move together lazily, trying to get the last of their pleasure.

Once the last waves of their pleasure had run through their body, Felicity broke the kiss. Her lungs were burning for air. Resting her forehead against Oliver’s, she smiled. She knew that, if she told him how out of breath she’d feel, he’d joke about working on her condition. She’d remind him that the first to have failed their phenomenal sex life had been his cock or little Oliver as Felicity liked to call him just to tease her husband.

“What are you smiling about?” Oliver asked her and nudged her nose with his. “What is so amusing?”

Chuckling slightly, Felicity pulled back and looked at Oliver. “Just us.”

“You thought about your bad condition,” Oliver guessed correctly, “and then you thought about Little Oliver. Of course you blended out the part where your vagina was so exhausted that your doc told you not to have sex anymore, right?”

Felicity grinned. Oliver knew her so very well. It was why her marriage with Oliver meant the world to her. She had never felt as understood as she felt when she was with him. She had grown up feeling misunderstood all of the time. With Oliver, she felt utterly safe, protected and understood though. Everyone who was in a relationship should feel the way she was feeling when she was with Oliver.

“Of course.”

She leaned forward to peck his lips gently. As soon as her lips touched his, Oliver framed her face with his hands and deepened the kiss though. Felicity couldn’t do anything against it. She just melted against his chest, responding to the kiss.

Oliver was the one to break the kiss this time. He looked at her with a soft smile that made Felicity brush her thumb against the dimple there.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, “it’s time to go home.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Yes, it is.”

They cleaned themselves up before they left City Hall hand in hand, on their way back home to recover from the long hours without each other.

* * *

I'm sorry, guys! I am going through a terrible writer's block. I barely haven't written anything in the last weeks, and I can't get myself to it either. Maybe posting some chapters will help though...

* * *

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[dalekofchaos]

Undertaker’s Streak never should have been broken

Nearly 7 years later and I still think it was dumb to end the streak. I even think it was dumber to let that steroided freak of a part timer be the one to do it. It did not help or elevate anyone. It ended one of the few things I had to watch on Wrestlemania every year. 

The Streak was special, sacred, a spectacle and important. 

It was stupid. Brock Lesnar did not need it. He’s Brock fucking Lesnar, the Beast Incarnate. There was absolutely NOTHING he needed to build up. All he needed was to look good trying to end The Streak.

Someone like CM Punk or Bray Wyatt, yes I agree they would’ve been better, but considering how both men were treated by WWE, do you think it would’ve done anything for them when it’s all said and done?

You killed the golden goose. You killed the one reason why old school fans like me actually fucking gave a fucking damn year after year after shitty storyline after shitty storyline. I was done with WWE after the Benoit murders due to how they cultivated an environment that allowed Benoit to lose his fucking mind. But I had one bright spot. The Undertaker and his Streak. And you killed it for Brock?

I don’t care if it was Vince or Taker’s call. Letting Lesnar to be the one to do it was fucking stupid. Where in the  hell did anyone involved with this stupid decision think this was a remotely good idea? You would have thought that if going into it you knew that this special thing was going to come to an end, this special thing that so many wrestling fans like myself and so many more held near and dear and sacred to their hearts, you would go out of your way to make this feel like something truly transcended, something truly iconic, something that truly would stand the test of time. But instead what you decide to do was drop The Streak after TWO DECADES of fucking investment to a guy who's a part-timer that advertises a sandwich shop on his short pants and his matches. Bad build up in a bad match and a bad decision as it happened. It's one, it's two and it's three! It was surreal not only because the streak was over and the realization the truth smacked us across the face like a ton of bricks, but it's over like after two decades and THIS is how it ends after over two decades after so many memorable moments and so many memorable matches and so many times where you feel it was this close ti veubg vrijeb abd then somehow someway it wasn't. This is how it's decided that it's gonna end? This is gonna be the nightcap to over two decades of fucking legend? Over two decades of awesome? Over two decades of accomplishment? Over two decades of something that will never ever be touched again by anything in the WWE or professional wrestling as a whole? This unfullfilling, unsatisfying completely idiotic piece of shit is what we got instead and to me the truth of the matter is it will always feel like it was a great big slap in the fucking face. It's like after all this time, Vince laughed and was like "eh, fuck you fans, who needs you, this is how we're gonna do it" and this is dumb on so many different levels. Of all people, Taker decided he wanted to drop his streak to Brock fucking Lesnar...why? Let's evaluate this for a second. This is the same Brock less near the heading into Wrestlemania XXX was 1-2 and from a logic standpoint this sure as shit doesn't make any sense at Wrestlemania. Need I remind everybody that this is the same Brock Lesnar that just one year earlier couldn't beat Triple H at Wrestlemania 29. The SAME Triple H, OH THAT BY THE WAY The Undertaker beaten him in back to back years at Wrestlemania!Including what was a glorified two-on-one handicap match the end of an era Hell In A Cell Match where Shawn Michaels was a special guest referee and not to mention he beat him in 2001 at Wrestlemania 17. So Brock Lesnar, a guy with a career losing record at Wrestlemania, the guy that couldn't beat Triple H, another part-time wrestler at Wrestlemania 29, is now able to beat The Undertaker who was 21-0 at Wrestlemania and had beaten Triple H THREE TIMES at the biggest even of the year...THREE FUCKING TIMES! And Lesnar couldn't do it once.... 7 years fucking later and it didn't do shit for Lesnar or shit for WWE in general. Need I remind you WWE gave it to someone who left the WWE high and motherfucking dry after Wrestlemania 20. Do we all forget how much time and energy and investment the WWE put behind Brock Lesnar in his first two years on the main roster in the WWE for all the people who still defend this bullshit decision, these are all the same idiots who pissed and moaned about Cena and Roman. DING DONG DUMB DICKS. Do you not realize if Brock Lesnar didn't leave the company high and dry after Wrestlemania 20, they wouldn't have had to sit there and build up John Cena and later Roman Reigns to the point where they had to play it safe with them so they wouldn't be big enough to leave?? At least Cena stayed until he felt his time was over. Roman is awesome and his status is well deserved. Brock did not deserve it. It was dumb 7 years ago and it's still incredibly dumb and stupid. Of all the people in the Streak who could've beaten it, you're telling me Brock Lesnar is greater than CM Punk, Batista, HHH or Shawn Michaels. I would've accepted John Cena or Roman Reigns and it actually would've fucking meant something. Brock was never around much, he's made it pretty fucking clear he doesn't care about WWE, the fans or wrestling in general, all he cares about is fucking money. You wasted two decades of build up for this part-timer and waste of fucking money and again, it was not worth it and incredibly stupid. You could've given it to CM Punk and he would've stayed. You could've had HHH win at at the end of an era match and it still would've meant something. At least with HHH being involved in the day to day operations of the WWE, imagine how much more it would mean if HHH had actually been the one to end the Strak at Wrestlemania 28 end of an era match and then he turns around and loses to Daniel Bryan at Wrestlemania 30 But no, you gave it to someone who didn't give a flying shit about the fans or professional wrestling. 7 years later and this decision was still fucking dumb. You can say whatever you want about Cena and trust me I was not a fan and I would've been just as mad 7 years ago if he was the one to end the streak because of what it represented to me as a wrestling fan, at least I would've known that he would have respected it, he would have appreciated it, he would have understood it and you actually would have gotten more long-term return on that very very long-term inveestment that you made as the WWE into that Undertaker character into the freaking streak! And what did it end up doing? Really at the end of the day what was the point of this? I mean if you really think about it, here's some things that have just really stand out to me. The fact that it was The Undertaker's call doesn't make it the right call. 7 years later I don't believe it was the right decision. Even those people that we respect the most sometimes make the dumbest decisions possible. This was dumb, it's just one of these things, well it was a great, shocking and surprising moment in Wrestlemania, well I bet it fucking was and the reason nobody saw it coming was because of a bad build up, a bad match in a dumb booking decision. It was a bad post-match reaction to it. It created a terrible Wrestlemania moment and some very detrimental dire bad consequences to the night to think about it. Instead of talking about Daniel Bryan's victory, they would be talking about Undertakjer's streak being broken and the shock and awe. Shock and surprise is not always good. You could take a shit or yank out your privates in the ring and I promise you tons of fans in that arena would be thinking what the fuck just happened? That's pretty much what happened. Who did this benefit? NO ONE! Did the fans want this? NO ONE FUCKING WANTED IT! Did it benefit the WWE? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT! The decision to end the streak was incredibily selfish. This was something a lot of fans were incredibily emotionally invested in. This was the only thing that kept me interested in WWE and Vince just had to ruin it. Vince just had to go with his old "eat shit and like the taste of it mentality" and shove this fucking part timer down our fucking throats for the next 6 fucking years. Choosing to end The Streak was selfish, incredibily selfish and incredibily stupid. I don't care if Undertaker wanted it to be over, The Streak still mattered. Why not preserve your legacy with the streak intact? Let's look at your career after the streak. Bad matches and you still come back every year. Taker was very loyal to Vince and the WWE, so why the fuck would you choose to let the asshole who left WWE 10 years ago when they clearly needed a star for the tremendous honor of breaking your legendary undefeated streak? You could've chosen a young guy who needed and deserved the honor to enhance his career. If The Undertaker doesn't care about his Streak, Legacy or career, then why should we? Why the fuck should I? 20 years and it was for nothing. Taker might be at peace with it, but I never will be. 7 Years and I am still pissed. It was incredibily selfish for Taker, Vince and the WWE to sit there and decide at Wrestlemania 30 to end it when it should have been all about Daniel Bryan and it should have been all about him overcoming the odds and obstacles. It ultimately became about The Undertaker  and his Streak ending. I will always believe the decision was a dumb one and I will never accept it.

Undertaker never should have lost. As Arn Anderson said “He should still be sitting here unbeaten. It's as special as anything has ever been, it's more special than anybody that won a world title. It's one of those things that comes along every so often and the character fits the angle. Leaving him undefeated would've been perfect. Let him walk away, let him retire, let him get put in the hall of fame all in one year and let that record, whether it would be 30-0, that's something monumental.”

And yes, I do believe Undertaker should have been undefeated with 30-0 and retire with the Streak in tact. After defeating Brock, these are potential Streak victims I could foresee

Wrestlemania 31:Sting(JUST THINK ABOUT IT. Undertaker returns after Wrestlemania XXX, no Bray Wyatt and we’re on the road to Wrestlemania, before he could even make his announcement. All of a sudden everything goes black. And we hear this  “When a man's heart is full of deceit... It burns up, dies... And a dark shadow falls over his soul... From the ashes of a once great man, has risen a curse...A wrong that must be righted... We look to the skies for a vindicator, someone to strike fear into the black hearts of the same man who created him... The battle between good, and evil has begun... Against an army of shadows, lies a dark warrior...The prevailer of good... With a voice of silence... And a mission of justice... This is Sting.” Sting’s classic Crow theme plays and as he makes his entrance to the ring. The stare off happens. Sting aims his bat at Taker and challenges him to Wrestlemania. Undertaker’s eyes goes white and gives him the throat cross. Sting vs Undertaker at Wrestlemania 31. Sting makes his debut in a way he should have appeared in WWE challenging The Undertaker at Wrestlemania. The Pheonom vs The Icon. WWE’s legend vs WCW’s legend. Perfect.)

Wrestlemania 32:Braun Strowman

Wrestlemania 33:Roman Reigns

Wrestlemania 34:Kurt Angle(Ronda would be facing Stephanie in a singles match instead, so we get the match we should have gotten at Wrestlemania 22)

Wrestlemania 35:Elias

Wrestlemania 36:AJ Styles

Wrestlemania 37:Aleister Black

Wrestlemania 38:The Fiend

The night prior, Undertaker is inducted into the WWE Hall Of Fame. At Wrestlemania, Undertaker beats The Fiend and becomes 30-0. The night after he announces his retirement and a tribute show for The Undertaker goes off. The perfect send off for The Undertaker.

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 24

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Word Count: 4,942

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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

She felt it in the air the second they exited the plane. Vacation was officially over and the heaviness of the ‘consequences’ from the events over the past week bore down on her shoulders like a fifty-pound boulder - not unmanageable, but annoying enough to notice. She knew she should call Harry and let him know she landed safe and sound like he asked. She knew they should have a conversation about their mindset on where their friendship stands. But none of that seemed important right now. It was late. All she wanted to do was hug her parents and go to bed. 

Zoey’s mom practically balled at the sight of her eldest daughter, elated to finally have her home after being on the other side of the country for four months, though she knew the reasoning for her visit wasn’t a pleasant one. Her dad, on the other hand, was more empathetic. He was always the voice of calm and reason, and he always did his best to put himself on her level. He didn’t need to say anything. His hug said it all. All-encompassing, warm, and tight. It made her feel safe and understood. It made her feel loved. The only time an embrace made her feel like this in the past four months was when she was with Harry. The realization would have been enough to make her cry if she had the energy.

During the whole ride home their mom blathered on about how happy she was to have them home and asked about every little detail of their trip to Rome but gave them no room to speak as she carried on talking. Zoey and Katie shared a look with their father, who glanced at them in the rearview mirror, and they could see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards in a knowing smile at their impatience as the red brake lights from the car ahead of them illuminated on his face, making them stifle a giggle. 

Their mom was still talking by the time they reached home. Their dad collected their luggage from the trunk and followed the girls inside, flicking on the landing light. She would have stayed up all night talking to her daughters if he hadn’t stopped her.

“Mary, they’ve had a long flight. We should let them get to bed,” her dad sweetly said, leaving their bags by the coat rack beside the front door.

Their mother halted her talking, turning her head to see her daughters standing slouched, eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay open while deep, dark circles formed under their eyes. Mary’s hands fell to her side and her head drooped in defeat.

“Oh, alright. The bedroom is all made up for you two. We’ll talk more in the morning. I love you both,” she gave them each a tight hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” the girls yawned, hugging and kissing their dad goodnight.

Just before they began to climb the steps, Mary called out, “Oh, Zoey!” catching her attention, she turned to look at her mom with an eyebrow raised in the middle of a yawn. Her mom continued with a smile, “That friend of yours...Harry? The one that arranged all of this? He’s a sweet boy. You tell him we really appreciate him looking after our girls for us. I was worried about the crowd you’d get into over there in LA, but if they’re anything like him, I know you found yourself a good one.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just grinned, nodded, and continued up. From the way she worded it, she wasn’t entirely convinced her mom understood who Harry was, which was shocking because you’d think that Katie would have made a bigger deal about it after having met him. Although her parents weren’t home when he first stopped by and knowing how protective her parents were, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that Katie had failed to mention a boy in their home while they were away, especially if said-boy was a famous musician. Plus, her parents didn’t keep up to date on current pop-culture. She made a mental note to talk to them about it at some point during her stay when she was a little more aware and lucid. 

It was only 10 PM, but it could easily have been 2 AM by the weight of her legs as she climbed the steps. It felt like she had rocks in her pockets weighing her down, she almost debated falling asleep right there on the steps. Luckily, she made it to the room, unable to close the door with enough force to fully shut, it cracked open with a sliver of light from the hall running a glowing line of orange on the wall where Katie’s bed rested. She was already passed out on top of her sheets, shoes still on. Zoey managed to kick hers off before plopping on the air mattress in the center of the floor, pulling the blanket haphazardly over her face before sleep overtook her.

The clanking of pots and pans and the loud echoing of her mother’s voice as she bellowed to her husband in the morning stirred Zoey and her sister awake, both girls groaning and shoving their faces into their pillows. Neither of them got the ‘morning person’ gene that both of their parents seemed to have. Reluctantly sitting up, Zoey checked her phone briefly to see a few missed texts from her friends letting her know that they were home and wishing her good luck on her visit with Paul today, as well as a missed call and text from Harry, who simply texted her to sarcastically say ‘Hope your plane didn’t crash’. She grinned, rolling her eyes and almost texting him back before the smell of bacon and eggs wafted into the room, catching her attention. She’ll text him later, she decided, practically skipping down the stairs to the kitchen.

Throughout breakfast, she listened to her family gush over her being home and how happy they were to have her back. Her mom, and to her surprise, her dad as well went on and on about how much they wished she would move back home and how they could turn their office into a room for her if she wanted, doing their best to convince her to stay by reminding her of all the things she’d miss out if she went back to LA, like their traditional fall farm trips and week-long Christmas celebrations filled with light-looking and gingerbread building competitions. And she had to admit, she missed it here. It was no Italy, but the view of their green backyard with their old swing set and trampoline, and the taste of her mom’s cooking filled her with nostalgia.

With each bite of food, her mind became clearer and more awake, reminding her of the reason for her visit. Pops. Katie offered to join her in visiting Paul, but, honestly, she needed to do this on her own. It’d be hard enough seeing Paul, knowing of what was to come, but she’d also be forced to see Michael, whom she hasn’t been around since the day she left, and she didn’t know how he would handle seeing her again. 

The whole drive over to Pops’ house she twisted and pinched the ends of her hair, nervous. How was she supposed to act? She’s known these people for five years, but what do you say to the people you care about after not speaking for months, knowing one of them was going to die? Was there proper etiquette in situations like these? 

As she pulled into the driveway and looked at the front of the familiar brick house, her heart ached. It looked just the same as she remembered it, with beautiful hydrangeas lining the flower bed and a flag hanging from beside the door adorned with flowers inside of a watering pail that read ‘Home Sweet Home’. Before she could even turn her car off, the door opened and out stepped Michael. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, but had recently gotten a haircut which made him look more mature, despite his sleeve of tattoos and choice of clothing; a baggy white shirt and some black skinny jeans. A hesitant smile formed on his face as she got out of the car, meeting him halfway up the driveway.

“Thanks for coming,” he hugged her, squeezing her tightly.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and sunk into the embrace, the sound of his voice and the weight of all that it carried pressed down on her with him. She was doing fine up until then, and the realization began to kick in. Her palms clenched the back of his shirt a little harder while she forced back the tears that threatened to expose themselves. He knew. And he held her a little longer.

When they pulled apart Michael coughed and took a deep sniff, avoiding eye contact to try and poise himself. As soon as he felt he had his emotions under control, he looked up, and faltered, taking his first good look of her since she got here.

“Your hair is down,” he noticed.

She blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “Yeah.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking back at her before nodding, “It looks nice. Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “Come in, he’s waiting.”

Too many thoughts were running through her head at the moment and she couldn’t hone in on one in particular. She felt guilty for being here, knowing how Michael was still struggling to come to terms with the end of their relationship. She felt like she was somehow flaunting that she had moved on and was happy, even though she knew that she’d never do that. She worried if she was giving him the wrong impression by coming, concerned that he’d think there was a chance of them rekindling their relationship. She was afraid to see Paul, wondering if he would treat her any differently now that she wasn’t dating his son anymore. And how would Michael’s mother feel having her back in the house after practically abandoning them for months?

But all of her worries seemed moot when she stepped into the living room, greeted by enormous smiles and cheers at her arrival. His mother stood from the couch, barrelling towards her and pulling her into the warmest embrace, pressing their cheeks together and praising her appearance while stroking her hair. Zoey couldn’t help but giggle. It was such a typical greeting of hers that it was almost amusing. 

Paul, on the other hand, stayed on the couch after a few failed attempts at getting up. He looked frailer than the last time she saw him and was very obviously tired. His eyes looked sunken and his skin looked dull, but he had the same bright and mischievous smile as always, shaking his head at the sight of her.

“You leave us for LA and come back a whole new person,” Paul motioned towards her changed appearance; hair down and dressed more confidently. “You look great, Zo-bear. California looks good on you.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Zoey smiled sweetly, making her way over and gently hugging him. 

His hugs weren’t as tight and encompassing as they once were, but she still felt every ounce of love he contributed and her heart only sank more. The tears she tried so hard to hold back threatened to spill again, and she hiccupped in an attempt to conceal it, but Paul noticed. And the look on his face when she noticed her glassy eyes was enough for Zoey to lose her fight as they began to fall, trailing down her cheeks. 

“Whoa, hey now,” Paul whispered, wiping her tears away with his thumbs while clasping his hands on either side of her face. He managed a playful grin and said, “No crying in my house. I’m not dead yet.”

The four of them crowded together, Zoey being sandwiched in between Michael’s parents whom each took a hold of either one of her hands as they urged her to tell them all about her trip to Rome. Mr. and Mrs. Katro had always welcomed Zoey with open arms, instantly taking to her maturity and charm from the second they met her, and they always made it clear to Michael that he couldn’t do much better than her. It was something that Zoey was proud of; her relationship with her boyfriend’s parents. She knew how lucky she was; not many people were as fortunate. 

That being said, when she and Michael broke things off, she was so worried about how his parents would react that she avoided seeing them, not even saying goodbye before she left. She was grateful that there were no hard feelings, but it now left her with a ton of guilt, no matter how kindly they treated her now, she had to live with the way she decided to leave the first time around. How could she go back to California now? She wanted to be here for Paul. He always treated her like family. How could she go home knowing that this time around it would be their final goodbyes? Knowing that she wouldn’t be here for his final moments? How could she leave knowing that she wouldn’t be here when Michael needed her support the most? Especially after all he did for her when Jess died. The more they talked, the more thought she put into her parents' offer of letting her move back home. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Pops was doing a good job at deflecting all of the more serious discussions surrounding his cancer, making light of the topic, and turning everything into a joke. It was a typical response of his. He was never too serious, and Zoey knew he’d react like this. It was his way of protecting his family and showing his strength, but she could see it in his eyes; he was scared. Still, the day was filled with mostly laughter and talk of old memories. 

She had stayed longer than expected. It was getting late, now, and Mrs. Katro invited her to stay for dinner, which she agreed to. So, while she cooked, Zoey, Michael, and Paul continued to talk about California. They wanted to know more about her life in LA and the new friends she made. She told them all about Nancy and Rory, her wonderful roommates who were so fun to be around. They were interested to know about their popularity, recognizing Rory’s name swirling around in the various pop-culture social media accounts, though they didn’t closely follow those kinds of tabloids. Pop-culture wasn’t necessarily in Michael’s radar. He tended to stray more towards the punk-rock scene, being in a small-town band as a guitarist, himself, which always amused her as he was the sweetest, most gentle guy she’d ever met. 

She continued informing them of her co-worker friend and confidant, Andy, as well as giving them a general summary of Brett, deciding it was probably best not to discuss the intimate details of her relationship with the Australian hunk with her ex-boyfriend and his father. Zoey didn’t even bother talking about Harry. They may not be into pop-culture, but they definitely know who Harry is, and she wasn’t exactly keen on talking about him when she still wasn’t sure what was going to become of them.

“So, I was thinking,” Michael eased, leaning his elbows onto his thighs. His skinny arms flexed a little as he looked over at her, “I don’t know what your plans for tomorrow are, but I thought maybe we can go over to Jess’s house and visit her parents.”

Zoey grinned, looking at Michael. As she said, he was always one of the sweetest guys she knew. His parents raised him well. She nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Are you going to his show with us tonight?” Paul asked.

Zoey cranked her head to the side, confused, “Michael? I didn’t know he had a show tonight. Must be embarrassed to take me out in public,” she joked, “I don’t blame him.”

The father and son laughed and Michael put his hands up, “No, come. The guys would love to see you. We’re playing at Slyfox.”

“My old bar?” Zoey asked, earning a nod. She hadn’t been there since she quit after Jess died. But she had to admit, she missed her old co-workers. It might be nice to see them again. “Yeah, sure. Can we stop by my house so I can change, though?”

Just as Michael was about to say something, her phone began ringing in her pocket. She pulled it out to see Harry’s name displayed on the screen attempting to Facetime her. Paul noticed her hesitation and urged her to take it. 

“Go on, answer it. You’ve been talking to us all day, we’ll just be in the kitchen helping Carol.”

Zoey nodded, quickly excusing herself to the back deck before she answered the call and Harry’s face popped onto her screen. It was dark on his end, a soft, warm glow barely illuminating his face, making the picture grainy, but she could see the almost surprise in his eyes when he saw her.

“You answered. Wasn’t sure you would. I haven’t heard from you all day,” Harry said, his British accent sounding more foreign to her after going over twenty-four hours of not hearing him or Rory speak. 

She winced, “Sorry, I’ve been a little distracted. What’s up?”

Harry shrugged, “Not much. Met with Mitch and the boys for lunch. Talked about getting some time in the studio soon. What about you? How was your visit with Paul?”

“I’m still here, actually. But it’s going well.”

His eyes widened, but she couldn’t quite see the expression, “Oh, sorry. Do you want me to call you back tomorrow?”

“No, it’s fine. They’re just making dinner now.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry hesitated, “Well, how are they?”

Zoey sighed, pacing the length of the deck. She had been trying to remain positive, but seeing Paul like that was hard. And knowing that Michael would soon be left without a father was heart-wrenching. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave here in three days. How do I say goodbye to them?”

Harry frowned, nodding understandingly, “I know. It feels like you’re abandoning them, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah!” she huffed, slumping in one of their patio chairs, looking through the window to their kitchen, both parents and their son laughing with each other as they gathered around the stove, “My mom offered to turn their office into a bedroom for me if I wanted to move back here.”

“You’re moving back?” Harry sat up suddenly on his bed making the light shift on his face.

“I don’t know,” she groaned, “I was thinking about it.”

“But what about Nancy and Rory? And your job? You love it in LA.”

“I know. I just don’t know if it’s worth risking missing his final moments. Michael’s going to need me.”

“Yeah, but you can always fly back,” Harry countered, “He’ll have his mom and his friends, too.”

“I know, but…”

“I know you feel like you have a responsibility,” Harry cut her off, “but you also have a responsibility to yourself. California has been so good for you. Don’t jump into a decision yet. Just think about it.”

Zoey nodded. He was right. Moving across the country isn’t easy. She needed to weigh all of the factors before making such a big decision. She got a better look at him, his hair extra floppy, and his swallow tattoos peeking into view at the bottom half of the screen. He was shirtless.

Zoey glanced back through the window to make sure the three family members were still preoccupied before she started the conversation, “I miss you,” she said.

Harry nodded, a small smirk twitching at his lips, “I miss you, too. And that rose tattoo.”

In seconds, her mind flashed through all of their little moments in Italy; hidden kisses, discreet hand-holding, sneaking away to have sex. Did he think about it as often as she? They still needed to have a conversation. She didn’t know if she was supposed to act like it didn’t happen, or if there was some sort of expectation from her. She needed to know where to set her boundaries. 

“About that. Should we maybe talk about that, or….?” she trailed, “I just don’t really know what the expectations are. Like, is this something we’re going to explore, or was that just some sort of vacation booty call?”

She could see the discomfort as Harry tensed up. He stuttered, “I-I don’t know.”

Her heart dropped. How could he not be sure when she hadn’t been more sure of anything in years? How could he deny the chemistry and the ease of it all? “What does that mean?”

Harry’s eyes darted around, trying to find the right words to say. But the more he thought, the more he flustered he got, “You know how hard this is for me.”

“How hard?” she recoiled, offended by that response. Not because it could mean he wasn’t interested in her in that way, but because of the lack of an answer she got with it. It was a simple question. Why did he have to beat around the bush? Why was his response to a simple question so defensive? “You’re talking about the situation with Rory?” she verified, earning a slight nod from him but before Harry could speak, she interrupted, “Your excuse with Rory was that you were touring and relationships during a tour were complicated. You’re not touring now, so that must not be it.”

Harry shook his head, “No, it’s not that. I don’t know. You mean a lot to me. You know that. And believe me, Italy was amazing. Like...amazing. But I haven’t been able to talk to you the same way since.”

Zoey’s eyes furrowed at his condescending tone. She repeated, “You can’t talk to me the same way?”

Again, before Harry could respond, they were interrupted by the squeaking of the back door sliding on its track. Michael poked his head through elongating his mouth in an apologetic expression for his intrusion and softly informing her, “Sorry, just wanted to let you know that I told the guys you’d be coming tonight and they’re stoked, and I just got off the phone with Mrs. Lewis and she’s expecting us for lunch tomorrow.”

Zoey forced a smile, “Okay, great. Thanks.”

Michael nodded and shrank back inside, closing the door behind him. She turned her attention back to her phone to Harry who sat confused, “What’s going on tonight and tomorrow.”

Zoey rattled from the interruptions, shook her head, and answered, “Michael has a gig with his band at the bar I used to work at, so I’m stopping by to see some old co-workers. And tomorrow we’re going to visit Jess’s parents to see how they’re doing.” But when Harry scoffed, she was taken aback, “What was that?” she urged.

He shot back, his tone icy, “You’re sitting there forcing a conversation about the future of our relationship meanwhile you’re spending the entire weekend with your ex-boyfriend who’s still in love with you? That makes perfect sense. Is that why you want to move back there? It’s to be closer to him, not Paul, right?”

Zoey’s mouth fell, shocked by his insinuation. This is not how she wanted the conversation to go. She wasn’t expecting this to turn into an argument, and she felt stupid for not realizing that it could have. She knew that there would be consequences, she just didn’t know if it would be good or bad. She supposed this answered that question. Still, frustration rose from within her gut. Harry knew her better than most. She even hazard a guess that he knew her better than Michael. How could he even think those things?

She felt the urge to defend herself, and she did, her demeanor angrier now, as she tried her best to keep her voice down, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Harry, I’m here because a man that I love and respect is dying. And I tell you that while I’m visiting that man, who will be attending the show tonight, by the way, I’ll also be visiting the parents of my dead best friend. But you’re concerned that my ex will be with me when you should be more concerned with the fact that I have so much death surrounding me that I feel like I’m dying myself. You, of all people, should understand that,” she spat. 

Anger rose in her as she continued, “How often have I even mentioned Michael to you aside from when you’ve asked? You don’t think I would have stuck around here if I still wanted to be with him? I’m the one that ended our relationship in the first place. Meanwhile, you’re over there not even sure of what you want to do about us. I’m just another indecision in your little black book of could-be girlfriends. Another idiot that left it all out on the table just for you to shrug your shoulders at.” 

Zoey began to laugh. She couldn’t help it, she always had a bad habit of laughing at inappropriate times. But how could she not? She felt stupid to believe that she could be anything more to Harry. It was a miracle enough that he even knew who she was. But she didn’t deserve to be one of THOSE girls. If the past year has taught her anything, it’s how to love herself more. She deserved better. “You say I’m forcing this conversation, but you could just have easily told me that you didn’t want to date me and it would have been fine. I would have let it be and we could have carried on like things were. Instead, you make excuses like you always do. You say you can’t talk to me the same as you used to, but who’s fault is that? I haven’t hidden anything from you. I haven’t treated you any differently. You can’t blame a kiss on the lack of communication. The lack of communication is because of your own insecurities, not because we fucked.”

Harry listened. She knew he was hanging onto every word she said. She knew that she had plucked at one of his heartstrings by the tremble in his jaw and his unsteadiness of his hands, but he needed to hear it. She wasn’t saying any of this to be mean. She couldn’t fault him if he didn’t want to be with her, but he also needed to understand how his actions made people feel. His indecisiveness in relationships and the assumptions he makes based on nothing but jealousy affected more than just herself. And if anyone can get that through his head, she could. Even if it meant ruining their friendship.

Her demeanor had calmed, though her head and chest were still pounding. She sighed, looking at Harry through her phone, “I’m sorry you feel like you can’t talk to me anymore. Really, truly I am. You’re my best friend and I wish it weren’t that way. But if we can’t be honest with each other and say what we really feel…” she paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not she wanted to say the words. But she saw no way around it. She valued herself and her friendships more than that, “...that’s not the kind of friendship either of us deserves.”

There was a long silence. So long she was sure the sun would set any minute. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice quivering, “What are you saying?” 

Zoey’s head fell, not wanting to see the sadness in his eyes. She still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, but she needed to have faith in her decisions. There was too much on the line right now than to be selfish enough to force a seemingly one-sided friendship. Her voice was soft, so soft that it was barely audible in a desperate attempt to hide the shakiness as she spoke, “I’m sorry, H. I’ve got to go.”

Harry’s phone went back to the home screen as Zoey ended the call, and he stared at it, half expecting to see Zoey’s face reappear at any minute, laughing and telling him that she was just kidding. But, when that didn’t happen, he screamed and threw his phone across his living room, loudly clamoring as it collided with the bottom of the wall and bouncing several times along the hardwood floor, sliding the length of the room. Why the fuck was he like that? Why did he always have to immediately jump to offense as soon as anyone got too close or things got too uncomfortable? He did it to himself every time. She was right. Every word she spoke. 

In truth, he never suspected she thought anything more of her relationship with Michael than what she said in the past. She never gave him any reason to doubt her. Harry believed her, so he didn’t know why he would even accuse her of anything else. The accusation was impulsive to him, immediately jumping to it because that’s what typically happened when in situations like these; the girl he was interested in always left him for someone else. Just like Rory and Brett. He fucked up. He knew he did. But how does he fix it?

KEEP READING

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